His name wasn’t really Jesus, it was Jerry.  And I didn’t meet him in a bar; he just took me there after he fed several dozen homeless people in the park, offered them Communion, and then healed a sick man.  Ok, he didn’t really heal him, but he got the police to contact a medic who came and took care of the guy.  When he’s not passing out sandwiches in the park, he is hanging out with the marginalized of society, those who have been burned or disillusioned by the church, the homeless and the bartenders.  You can understand why I got the two mixed up at first.

The cool thing is that all those things…that IS his church.  He is an ordained Methodist minister, and the church has appointed him to serve this demographic in Denver.  It’s called AfterHours Denver.  The “congregation” meets regularly in the basement of a bar to make peanut butter sandwiches, have a word of teaching, discuss for a few minutes, and take communion.  Most of its ministry, though, is feeding and clothing the homeless of Denver.

My last post talked about service and how much energy the church I am working with has devoted to service.  AfterHours, though, radically challenges our entire understanding of what “church” means.  It is not one of many ministries in a traditional church or one line in a budget – it IS the church.  It doesn’t have a “church service” – the church IS service.

I mean, the call to worship at their basement gatherings is making peanut butter sandwiches together.   They don’t do a monthly food drive, and they don’t collect offerings to donate to homeless shelters – instead, they are at a downtown park every day (except for Saturday) passing out sandwiches.  I came on Thanksgiving Day, and we passed out over 50 long-johns for the winter weather.  All while Jerry offered everyone the chance to come to the Communion table as “a reminder that God loves you.”

As Jerry put it, “We might not have the financial power of a wealthy congregation, but we can say that we fed 5,000 people this year.”

Peter Rollins tells a particularly potent parable (say that 5 times fast) that speaks to the reality of a church’s mission.  To quote/paraphrase, it goes something like this:  A good Christian man dies and finds himself at the entrance to the pearly gates.  St. Peter greets him and invites him to step inside.  As the man is about to place his first foot down on the other side, he pauses and looks back at his friends standing behind him – some Christian, some Hindu, Buddhist, Atheist, Muslim.  He asks St. Peter if they can come in.  “Sorry, you know the rules,” is the reply.  He stands there, one foot hovering over the threshold, and he thinks about his reference point: Jesus, the bastard, the outsider, the heretic, the criminal, the unacceptable.  And he brings his foot back outside of the gates.  “I think I’ll stay out here with them.”  St. Peter suddenly breaks into a grin and cries, “Finally.  Someone gets it.”

It was actually Jerry that shared this parable with me – you can check it out in Rollins’ brilliant Irish brogue here.

What this story and AfterHours Denver suggest to me, is that perhaps we need to re-evaluate how we do church.  Maybe we spend too much time making sure the choir sings beautifully for the congregation and not enough time making sure they share this gift with broken souls who could use some healing music.  Or maybe we focus too much energy on programming within the church building and not enough on standing with the social outcasts.

I’m not saying that churches can’t serve their congregation, have a nice building, or make beautiful music on Sundays.  I think there is a vital element of church that centers on worshipping in community and learning alongside others of your faith who can push you intellectually and spiritually.  I just wonder if we might need to shift the balance a little.  Have a Bible study at a bar.  Worship alongside the homeless every now and then.  Go make relationships with the people you serve instead of just putting money in the offering plate.

That’s all I’ve got.  What do you think?