I want to clear up a few things about my own participation in a house church.
First, I’m not doing it because I love that small group experience. Honestly, the “small group experience” has posed the greatest difficulty for me in this setting. I tend to prefer to sing songs with a hundred or two hundred people than with eight or ten. Unless
you have a group of confident singers who know all the songs, the singing doesn’t have quite the same power to draw you inward and upward in a small group. We have had that kind of experience on several occasions, but it’s not the norm. I miss big group singing.
Also, inasmuch as I do leading and/or teaching, I am much more comfortable teaching 18+ plus people in a less discussion-oriented manner. Even when doing small things like administering communion, I feel more myself in my teaching when I am leading more people.
It may sound ironic, but I think that both of these things are because I am an introvert. The large group setting disallows some of the intimate contact, and I find that ability to be more myself because enmeshed in a room with more people enhanced.
There is also a myth that house church is some sort of regression to the early church, a truer embodiment of the house-based communities that defined early Christianity. I don’t think that this is an accurate assessment of the early church. Or, perhaps it’s better to say, there were probably some communities that look something like a house church and probably some that looked like networks of house churches that came together for larger worship experiences, and some things that looked more like a larger group that would meet in some “third place” for worship.
The idea that house church (or any church) is repristinating the ancient model depends on the myth of “the” ancient model. I don’t buy it.
This series began as a response to John Armstrong’s thoughts about “the home church movement.” I want to pick up on a couple other positives that he mentions. These were some of the positive pulls toward a house church when we moved to San Francisco.
First was children. As Armstrong puts it, “Children are not a problem to be solved but welcomed little people.”

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One thing that our church in Philly had done very well was integration of children as members of the worshiping community. They were welcome as part of the worship service, and participated in everything until the scripture reading and sermon. So they were there for all of the liturgical and memorized elements as well as a good bit of singing.
Outside the worship service, during the scripture and sermon, there was an excellent children’s program that was not babysitting but age-appropriate worship.
After the sermon, the children were brought back up to participate in the family meal (communion), again in a somewhat liturgical context where they would soon memorize all the responses. For the final song, there were often instruments up front for the kids to play while everyone sang before the final blessing.
That beautiful both/and of integrating children into the service and having space for them to be children and worship and learn accordingly was something we did not find in SF. The options were either a great children’s program at a place where children were welcomed into the adult worship or children welcome to be part of adult worship or, alternatively, to go to babysitting. After having it all, we weren’t willing to go back.
The other major pull was the way in which house church is a more natural extension of our real life. One question we asked of the churches we visited was, “Could we bring a non-Christian coworker here? Why or why not?” Especially given the amount that we entertain, having a house church was a simple way to say, “Yes, we’d invite anyone here.” (Our church, “The Table”, has brunch every week, so the extension of our “real life” is quite natural.)
Finally, there is the blessing and curse of being in close community. Our group, almost two years old, has had its share of conflict. Some of it has been handled well, some of it badly. But even when I looked at everything and said, “We’re dealing with this terribly,” the next thought in my head was, “and that makes us healthier than 98% of the churches in the world, because we’re actually dealing with it.”
There is no running and hiding, no avoiding of people you don’t like in favor of those you do. There’s community for better or worse. And even when it’s going badly, that is good community. But more often, it goes well. This group has been our family, and we’ve been other people’s. We’ve kept kids while others have had emergency surgery, we have friends who help get ours to school when Fuller thinks I should be somewhere besides in my home office at 9:00 in the morning, we have older mentors to challenge and encourage us, we have younger friends to help draw toward maturity.
So, while not being totally within the assessment John gives of why people go to house churches, much of what he said there rings true to our own desires for family-based Christian community.
Tomorrow I’ll tackle some of his concerns.