Jesus told us to be two things: the salt of the earth and a light on a hill. Being the salt of the earth means bringing the message of Christ to people. Being a light on a hill means bringing people to the message. Both approaches are necessary and important.
I want to share a unique way Adventist churches can be a light on a hill to our communities. Actually, I don’t just want to share my thoughts with you; I’d like you to share yours with me as we perhaps develop this idea together.
A few years ago I had one of the most special experiences of my life: being in the Old City of Jerusalem on Friday evening. I watched as Jewish families streamed toward the Temple Mount plaza, hand in hand, ready to welcome Shabbat with prayer, fellowship, Jewish dancing, and, most of all, joy!
Many of the televised images we see of the Temple Mount are quite stoic—Orthodox Jews praying at the Western Wall. But on Friday nights the atmosphere changes dramatically as youth join in. (To see a short video click here.)
What I liked about this experience was the beautiful sense of community bursting forth among the Jewish people.
Of course, for me, there was an additional specialness to the evening. As the Sabbath shadows fell, it was familiar and it was good. At that moment I realized that to be a Seventh-day Adventist was to be a Judeo-Christian in the best sense of the word. We honor the old treasures as well as the new (see Matt. 13:52), and we desire to share these treasures with the people around us. With so much renewed interest among Christians in their Jewish roots, we have a wonderful opportunity to do that.
So I’ve been wondering: What if our churches created their own gathering places on Friday evening—places so beautiful, so inviting, that even people outside our faith community would want to come and experience them, or at least drive slowly by? The purpose of these places wouldn’t be to mimic the Temple plaza, which has a deep meaning all its own. Rather, in our own meaningful way we would celebrate our salvation rest in Christ with the arrival of Sabbath rest in an Edenlike oasis from the noise of secular culture.
Here where I live, in Collegedale, Tennessee, we’re exploring the idea of a Sabbath plaza, where people could gather on Friday evenings to enjoy fellowship, pray, discuss Scripture, eat a picnic supper—whatever their hearts desired. (No decision yet on Jewish dancing; perhaps an outer court?)
In many ways an environment like this is reminiscent of the beautiful community we find in Acts 2, where early Christians “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. . . . Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts” (verses 42-46).
So what would a place like this look like? That’s the fun part: creating it together with our individual communities in mind. Maybe it’s full of fountains and flowers; maybe there are warmers in the ground for the winter. Maybe there’s a special prayer tree, or an area where people stand face to face at podiums to discuss Scripture, like a Jewish havruta. Maybe there’s an outdoor baptismal spot. Whatever the specifics, it’s one of the most beautiful places around—the kind of place people want to come and see.
Remember: this wouldn’t be a program. We have enough programs in our churches. This would be a place where spiritual community happens spontaneously and naturally.
What kind of place would you and your friends and your family look forward to going on Friday evenings—to celebrate Christ, to break free from secular culture, to welcome the Sabbath with friends new and old?
My e-mail address is [email protected]. I’d love to hear from you.
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Andy Nash is a journalism professor, lay pastor, and author of Paper God. This article was published August 18, 2011.
