Invent a Church

Look deeply into your soul, into your imagination, and give yourself permission and encouragement to envision the church of your fondest dreams. What would it look like? What would it feel like? That’s what this is all about—creating a real church that looks and feels like the collective dream where every soul has voice. What would you create?

For me it would be a place that was totally authentic. You could come as you are and be as you are. You would not have to put on your “church face.”

The church would be a vortex of unconditional love.

It would be a place where real people could come and share their real selves, which includes the ugly parts as well as the mighty and lofty. That is, it would be a healing place. People could come and say, “I feel empty. I feel bewildered. I feel lost. I feel overwhelmed. I feel angry. I feel repulsed.” Whatever it is they could come with their true feelings and place their feelings and themselves in the love vortex.

Church would also be a place where you could “come as you are” if you were in a state of bliss and wanted to celebrate and share that bliss.

Or it would be a place where you could just come to be and not feel as if you have to do anything. You would not be forced or coerced to participate. At the same time, while it would be more than okay to just be, church would also provide a stimulating and encouraging atmosphere for stepping outside your comfort zone. Church would be a place where you could accept the challenge of stepping beyond fear.

I have heard ministers use the expression “thank you God” a lot. Sometimes that expression still triggers in me the response that someone is telling me to thank an entity who is outside of myself. (I grew up learning that God is a judgmental being, a personality.) I want a church where I know that I thank God by all that I do there, whether it is meditating, gazing into someone’s eyes, hugging, singing, chanting, whatever else it is. I want a church where I enact “thank you God” by moving among people and interacting with them, by being love, by being light, by being God.

I want a church where people can discuss things openly and honestly. That includes a bunch of real world problems and experiences. Did you just lose someone important to you and are dealing with grief? Are you bored in your marriage and are contemplating an affair or divorce or are anxiously searching for more meaning in your relationship? Are you single and filled with the ache of loneliness or starved for human touch? Have you had a paranormal experience, such as a near-death experience, seen a vision, heard a voice, been visited by a spirit entity? Are you ill and are afraid of death or dealing with isolation or rejection? Are you down on your luck or mired in depression? Are you plagued by a stalker or an arch-rival? Whatever it is, I would like to see church (or by extension the spiritual community) be a place where I could find answers and contribute to others finding answers to life’s challenges through sharing, discussion, listening.

To that end, I would like to see church having a fluid structure. The flow of the day could move as it had to move. People could come and go as they needed. Seating would be circular to facilitate more of a feeling of community. If the flow got into some “heavy stuff,” the structure could be fluid enough to assist healing. If the flow got into “lightness of being,” it could drift into that direction without clock-watching. There would be lots of hugging and music and dance and other energy-enhancing activities.

Church would walk the talk of love thy neighbor, of unconditional love. This would not be a façade; it would be real. This kind of love welcomes diversity and supports total inclusion. The spiritual community would be a safe harbor as well as a means to generate love; it would be a love power plant. It would be a place to blast through pain. It would be a place to share joy in all its forms.