For the past two weeks, we've been talking about the WHY behind our move toward Modern Worship at 9:00 and Traditional Worship at 10:30.
We've talked about worship.
We've talked about community.
This week, maybe we should talk about a chair.
Look around on Sunday morning.
We know these chairs.
We know who sits where. We know who sings every word and who quietly closes their eyes. We know who arrives early and who slips in just before worship begins. We know whose laugh carries across the room.
There is something beautiful about that.
To know where you belong—and to know that others will notice when you aren't there—is one of the great gifts of being Church together.
But there are empty chairs too.
Some of them haven't always been empty.
You may remember who sat there.
Others have been waiting for someone we haven't met yet.
So perhaps there is one more question worth sitting with:
Who isn't here?
Maybe someone who hasn't been inside a church in years.
Maybe someone who tried church and didn't find what they needed.
Maybe someone who wondered whether there was really room for them.
Or for someone they love.
Maybe someone with questions they weren't sure they were allowed to ask.
Maybe someone who knows plenty about what Christians are against but isn't quite sure what we're for.
Maybe someone who simply hasn't been invited.
We don't know all their names.
But God does.
And perhaps that is reason enough to make room.
Not because what we already have doesn't matter.
It does.
The hymns that carried us through grief matter. The music that helped us celebrate matters. The prayers we know by heart matter. Choir and bells and organ and liturgy matter. The people sitting beside us matter.
They matter because somewhere along the way, through these things and these people, many of us discovered a place where we could encounter God.
And maybe that is precisely why we should care about the empty chair.
What could help someone who has never felt at home in church find a place here?
That question is at the heart of The Gathering.
Not how to make church cool.
Not how to make everyone like the same music.
Not how to replace something old with something new.
How do we make room?
Room for a different sound.
Room for a different rhythm.
Room for questions that don't have tidy answers.
Room for silence.
Room for laughter.
Room for something unexpected.
Room for the leaning and nudging of the Holy Spirit.
Room for someone we haven't met yet.
This Sunday, October 18, we will gather for another pilot of The Gathering.
Come.
Come if Modern Worship is exactly your cup of tea.
Come if you're curious.
Come if you're skeptical.
And maybe especially come if you already know that, given the choice, you'll probably be sitting at 10:30 on November 29.
We need your eyes too.
You know what it feels like when worship feeds you. You know what sacred feels like. You know when something helps you encounter God—and when something falls short.
So worship with us.
Listen.
Pay attention.
Whose voice is present?
Whose might still be missing?
What surprised you?
What made you think?
What might help someone in that empty chair discover that there is a place for them here?
And if something makes you lean toward the person beside you and whisper,
“Whoa. We should do that at the traditional service,” tell us that too.
Because maybe The Gathering isn't only about creating something new at 9:00.
Maybe it can teach us something about 10:30.
Maybe it can teach us something about ourselves.
And maybe, if we're willing to pay attention, that empty chair can teach us something about being the Church.
On November 29, our Sunday morning rhythm will change.
But the invitation remains as old as the Gospel:
Come and see.
There is room at the table.
There always has been.
We know some of their names.
God knows all of them.
Let's make sure they know there's a chair waiting.
~ Rev. Loren
