‘My house shall be called a’ … tavern?
ABaptist, a Catholic, and a Pentecostal walk into a bar. Not really, or not really the Baptist. Most Baptists I know wouldn’t walk into a bar, although we’ll gleefully listen to country songs about those who do. But let’s forget the joke and examine what’s happening in the various denominational groups in America, particularly regarding the church names they are taking on.
Less than three miles from my house up U.S. 41 north stands “Freedom Church.” Nearby also on 41 is “Cedarcrest Church.”
Within a three mile radius from my front door sits “North Star Church” on Blue Springs Road.
Just off Nance Road in Acworth sits “Tavern Church.” Not kidding. To the south closer to the city of Kennesaw are “LifeBridge Church,” “Sojourn Church” and “Become Church.” One of our daughters attends Passion City Church, a huge contemporary but true to the faith church in Atlanta.
None of these churches bear a denominational name, although at least two of them are affiliated with the 16 million-member Southern Baptist Convention. Even so, from their names one would be hard pressed to discern the theological beliefs of the congregations. In the past, church names were declarative. If you had even a scant knowledge of what denominations believed, you knew what to expect at Faith Lutheran, First Presbyterian or Eastside Baptist. Not so much today for the churches with such curious names.
The height of contemporary is illustrated by a church that used to lie just off of I-20 east of Atlanta. Its name, “Church in the Now,” is about as modern or perhaps post-modern as a name can be. “Now” may be the best example there is of a modern church trying to cater to every imaginable taste. A mega church, “Now” closed its doors in 2014 after its pastor revealed that he was homosexual and a large exodus occurred. According Georgia, “Now’s” former pastor is now married to a man and is pastor of “Metron” which we can add to our list of modern names.
What is behind the rush to disassociate from denominational designations or to start churches independently and take on names that are disorienting? Reasons vary.
Evangelical churches typically do so to reach more people. For instance, while an “old line denominational” name such as “Baptist” might prejudice a seeker, the name “North Star Church” might not. In truth, Baptist congregations are autonomous and as non-hierarchical as can be, but how would secular millennials know that?
Along with name changes and the rejection of anything older than yesterday, what happens at modern churches before and during worship services might not surprise. Rest assured that nowadays you can approach the Most High God with coffee in hand and a doughnut to boot. If such casualness stretches Billy Graham’s favorite hymn, “Just as I Am,” a bit too far, it honors Kenny Chesney’s hit, “No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem,” but for a purpose.
That purpose, as related to me by young adults who attend very contemporary churches, is to “acknowledge that new wine will not remain in old wineskins,” a reference to Jesus’ claim that His gospel of grace could not be held in by legalism. Hymns, it is argued, are old wineskins that can no longer contain the new wine of the Christian Gospel. Newer wineskins are needed. Though that argument is tempting, it is a specious argument, given the fact that so much contemporary church music is commercially inspired, unlike the hymns of Charles Wesley and others.
Traditionalists cannot deny that denominationalism is waning, if not dying. Perhaps denominations are old wineskins as well. But neither can contemporary sympathizers deny that they are forming new denominations when they build networks of the new churches they are starting and so flamboyantly naming.
As for worship houses, today’s worshipers under 50 don’t necessarily equate beauty, symbols or organ pipes with spiritual experience. Who needs arches, buttresses or other such architecture to take one’s thoughts off the cares of the world and pitch them toward the Most High God? Why make an idol of a cross?
Much of today’s organizational and musical flux in Christianity is part and parcel of the spirit of independence and localism that is sweeping Europe and America in politics, culture and faith. That spirit resists old structures, old ways and old songs.
The most beautiful churches still belong to Catholics. They invite us to look up. The least substantive songs belong to contemporary evangelicals. They call us back to youth, leaving behind the glories of hymnody and harmony that pointed us away from ourselves.