The Loft

Behind the register, there is a post-it that reads "You might be the only Bible someone ever reads," to remind us that church is not a building.

I remember a man, the first year we were open, who came in every morning to have coffee. He would often mention his disinterest in church, giving the impression that it wasn't Jesus that bothered him, it was the Christians who liked to talk about Jesus that bothered him. We'd talk and nurse our cups of coffee, and he'd leave with the promise of returning the next morning. It didn't take long before his presence in the mornings and our conversations became protocol.

One morning, one of the occasional off-handed remarks about church business reached the ears of our "regular." He swiveled around, "You mean this is a church?"

For a second I wasn't sure exactly how to answer, or if I should respond with something that would clearly separate us from the other churches he'd mentioned for the past six months. Instead I just said, "Yes."

I could almost see the gears shift in his head once he figured out that he'd been sitting in a church the whole time he was talking about not wanting to go to one.

The church wasn't a building anymore.

The church had become the very people who poured his coffee every morning.

The gears in our own heads shifted to the post-it behind the register which suddenly became more real. (more)