About a year ago, a friend of mine took me to see a new Presbyterian church built near her home in Uxbridge. “You've gotta see it!” she said.
As we drove up Main Street through the village of Leaskdale, we passed by the original St. Paul's church where Lucy Maud Montgomery worshipped when her husband was the minister many years ago. And then, there it was, the new St. Paul's, not 500 yards further up the very same street.
It was very impressive.
I thought, it looks like a recreation centre, or a library, or a concert hall – it's gorgeous! And I was right. We walked into the open building and as we looked around it was everything I imagined: a recreation centre with a gym, a library and a sanctuary with a raised stage large enough for a wonderful concert.
No organ. No altar.
State-of-the-art sound system and overhead screen.
How did this happen?, I wondered.
My friend and I quickly connected with the associate pastor, Liz Honeyford, and when I asked the “how” question, she had one word for me: prayer. And then she went on to tell me that this church, which had dwindled to 35 members, had mushroomed into well over 500 people!
What are they doing here? I wondered.
Recently, I drove up to Leaskdale and walked through those doors again, on a Sunday morning.
The parking lot was full and people were spilling out of the building after the 9 a.m. service, while others were talking over coffee as they stood around in groups in the spacious foyer. There were people of all ages: families, teenagers and old folk walking in with canes. I could hear jazz (love it!) and when I looked into the sanctuary, I saw messages and reminders about church events flashing on the busy overhead screen.
I took my seat with those who had come for the 11 o'clock service and looked through the bulletin.
No order of service. No list of hymns. Instead, pages about St. Paul's This Week and Gifts of Change from PWS&D and other church agencies, plus appeals from Africycle, Sketch and the Canadian Foodgrains Bank.
And then a woman's face appeared on the screen above me and she described, with tears in her eyes, her experience helping HIV/AIDS victims. And when it was over, worship began.
Honeyford began with announcements, a call to worship and a gathering prayer delivered in a gentle, low-key fashion and then, with Pastor Andrew Allison as lead guitar-and-vocals man, we all began to sing. And I mean sing. And I mean joy! Throughout the whole service, which was continuous praise, and prayer, and love (dare I say it), seven musicians worked up there with Allison.
During the service when Allison invited people to come up closer to the front, I just had to move from where I had been sitting in the back row, as an observer, to be more a part of all that freedom in worship, and yes, again I say, all that joy.
Yes, there was a prayer of confession.
And yes, the sermon was Bible-based. And made me laugh. And allowed me to hear some of Allison's faith story. And touched my heart. I saw in his eyes vulnerability expressed with humility, and his compassion for all who were there.
What I experienced included a relevant openhearted message and the sharing of personal journeys of faith from many who were present all wrapped up in an atmosphere of welcoming acceptance.
It did not feel like a show or a rock concert; there was no applause. Most of the time Allison, and the others leading in worship, sang with their eyes averted, or closed, and I knew that they were praying with us, not getting between us and the Lord. I felt a strong connection and empathy with everyone in that holy space and yet, somehow, I felt alone with the Lord and very much at peace.
Near the end of his sermon Allison asked, “Stand if you are grateful to God for doing something unexpected in your life which cannot be called a coincidence.” I stood with many others. And later he said, “If you need healing of any kind come forward at the end of worship.” Several people did.
The service closed with a benediction and then those who felt the need of healing or private prayer stayed to be ministered to by Honeyford, and Allison, as well as Allison's wife (and mother of their four young boys), Colleen.
Afterwards I sat with Andrew Allison and asked him all my burning questions. “Evangelism,” he told me is “about telling people about Jesus. It's not about asking people for money, or handing them a tract. We're about reaching out to people so that they hear what Jesus said. Repentance is also a necessary part of the package. It's about real life. We call it 'lasagna ministry.' When people have heard Christ's message and then choose to follow what He taught, what we want them to do next is to get into discipleship of some sort, discipleship that connects with who they are.
“The PCC tradition comes from a history of risk-taking, of unashamed faith with great expectations. We are building on what began long ago.”
Honeyford added, “The Presbyterian Church was evangelical in the '50s. Preachers spoke with fire in their bellies and passion in their sermons!”
Honeyford and Allison admit that demographics are in their favour in this suburban community. Younger families have come in large numbers to live in the less costly areas north of the GTA. The location of this new church was carefully planned.
But, Allison insists it was more than just location. “All this began with a core of seniors who prayed and prayed some more, at every opportunity, asking God to show them what had to be done. And yes, some people did leave when we got our answers.” To which Honeyford adds, “And we have prayerfully helped people to find a church that they need if it's not this one!”
I believe this lasagna ministry is about waiting on the Lord and then being willing to take the risk of going wherever He leads. What a privilege it was to worship with this daring, eager-to-please-the-Lord congregation.
