Chapter 5

Considering that I slipped into leadership of an independent fellowship quite accidentally from my point of view, it came as a surprise that our little group of, well, dissidents, continued to grow.

When I washed my friends' feet at our Seder meal and 'Last Supper', there were nearly twenty of us there. Most of whom came to the park the following day to sit among the trees to observe the traditional vigil before the cross between twelve and three in the afternoon. On Saturday, we had a picnic in the park and played games with several children belonging to our number, then we met there again at dawn to celebrate the resurrection.

By Pentecost (Whit Sunday) we were up to thirty-two, and Isabel, Yvonne and Ben's lounge was becoming overcrowded. Dennis, a recent arrival, tentatively spoke up. "There's a small chapel available up near West Street – a Church of the Nazarene congregation has just folded. I think it's pretty run down, but it might be available to lease or buy at a reasonable rate." We'd finished our fellowship meal and were just chatting, really, so I picked up on it.

"Sounds interesting, Dennis. How about you take us up there to have a look?" Most people decided it was time to go home, but our original core group, plus Sian and Dennis, made our way there; it was maybe a mile and we walked in the sunshine.

It proved to be a delightful example of Victorian neo-Gothic church architecture, at least from the outside; stone, arched windows with stained glass, though we couldn't make out the images, a tower and even a pretty steeple. The paintwork on exposed woodwork was tired and peeling, a gutter hanging down and there was clearly no ramp for disabled access.

"What can you tell us about it, Dennis?" asked Ben.

"I attended for a while, until the disputes in the congregation got too uncomfortable. It seats about a hundred or so in pews. There's a baptistry set into the floor in the sanctuary, a classic carved pulpit and a matching Communion table. It's quite old-fashioned – the reason for the arguments. Some wanted to carry on the same, an equal number wanted to re-order the interior with a kitchen, toilet, and soft seating."

We were nodding. We'd all encountered similar situations, if not in churches we were actually attending. I asked, "Do you know anyone we could contact?"

"Maybe." Dennis pulled out a mobile phone, scrolled through his contacts and selected a number. A few words, and he turned back to us, "If we can wait a few minutes, we can take a look inside."

We nodded, he spoke again and ended the call. While we waited, we got in a huddle and discussed what we wanted to do. If the interior was as run down as it sounded, we would have to spend quite a lot on it, and none of us wanted to do that if we didn't own it. We talked it over and before the steward, whatever his title was, arrived, we felt we could raise enough between us to cover a mortgage. Obviously, that would need a favourable consensus of our whole group.

Well, the building had potential. In other words, it was well on the way to being a wreck. Buckets on the floor showed where roof leaks emerged, and the plaster was clearly extensively damaged by damp. The wiring was clearly ancient, though it worked. There were two w/cs each with a hand-wash basin, but no hot water. The baptistry was a tile-lined pit in the sanctuary, about three feet deep and big enough for most adults to be fully immersed, of course, covered with a substantial wooden trap-door. A small, exquisite, two-manual pipe organ still worked, though it too obviously desperately needed attention. The west window had stained glass, depicting Biblical scenes, the East window an impressive depiction of Christ as prophet, priest and king, but both had some damage. We looked at each other.

"Did you have a price in mind?" I asked.

The man shrugged. "It would depend on several factors," he said. "We'd like it to go to a Christian group. We'd get more from someone turning it into accommodation, or a commercial property, but..." he paused again, "of course, we're aware it's in a terrible state. What were you hoping to do with it?"

Ben spoke up after glancing at me and getting a nod, "We're a small group of folk who've got fed up with the attitudes of people in our former churches. We've been meeting in my lounge for a few months, but we've grown more than we expected and need somewhere bigger. We need something like this, or at least a hall, for worship, meetings and so on. We'd probably allow it to be used for other community groups as well – we couldn't really justify the building otherwise."

The other man was smiling. "You'll need to meet with our property committee, but we were thinking of something in the region of two hundred thousand."

Ben handed him a card. "Give me a call and we'll arrange a meeting at my house. We'll need to pray and discuss this, but I expect we'll want to make an offer."

We left, deep in thought. I, and probably the others, were praying silently. We reached Weston Park and paused before separating. "Tuesday night," Ben suggested, "the core group, plus you, Dennis," he added, looking at the other man. "In the meantime, why don't we ring round everyone else and ask what they'd be willing to contribute in the way of a tithe."

It's surprising how much money can be raised from a few dedicated individuals. Our thirty-two attendees consisted of twenty people in paid employment of various kinds, several students and a couple of folk on unemployment benefits. Between us, we felt we could probably count on a weekly tithe income of around five hundred and fifty pounds a week, which would more than cover the interest payments on a mortgage of two hundred thousand, which would leave us a margin for building upgrades...

We arrived at Ben's (for convenience, I'll stop appending Yvonne and Isabel, though they're every bit as vital) and Teri disappeared into the kitchen with Yvonne. Phil, Dick and Beth, Isabel and Ben sat in the lounge with Dennis and myself. I kicked off.

"I consider the core group of Phil, Ben, Isabel, Beth, Dick, Teri and Yvonne as Elders in our fellowship. I'll say that to the ladies when they return – no offence, Dennis, but you'll need to be with us longer."

He smiled. "No problem. I'm not sure I want the responsibility anyway."

"Speaking of responsibility," I went on, "I want each of you to think about whether you want that role or not. Ben, Phil, you've been ringing round the others about the possible purchase?"

"Yes," Phil said. "Between us, we've canvassed everyone. We're looking at over six hundred a week, or two thousand six hundred a month. But Ben's been looking into valuations and mortgages."

"I've a friend who's an estate agent* and he suggested a valuation of around a hundred and twenty-five k. We'll certainly spend a lot more on renovation and re-ordering the interior, but I haven't gone into that. I was thinking a lot of the scut work could be done by us anyway – we'll need to audit the skills we have between us. Regarding the mortgage, we'd do better, and be able to claim Gift Aid, if we can register as a charity, but I'm pretty sure between us we'll have no problem."

(*Estate Agent – the English equivalent of a Realtor).

A small group – six, all men – from the church trying to sell the building we were interested in, arrived at the door once we'd agreed the idea was worth pursuing and viable. We sat round as the ladies served tea and soft drinks.

The leader, a small man in what looked like an expensive suit, who had a manner about him that commanded respect, was the spokesperson. "I'm Raymond Onslow, and my companions," he indicated each in turn, "Peter Brown, Stephen Brunton, Andrew Macklin, Elijah Bailey and Simon Temple."

I duly introduced my companions, ending, "We're a new fellowship, not yet formally a church, so we haven't fully settled a leadership structure, but those present are, if you like, the core group of the membership."

He frowned, "You have women in leadership?"

"I am the leader, but I anticipate involving women in decision making. Teri my wife, and Yvonne who helped her serve us are also core group members."

He sighed. "I suppose..." he stopped, "We're in no position to argue theology or doctrine just now and that's not why we're here anyway, but perhaps you could briefly say where you stand as a church?"

"Hm." I thought very carefully, "Our aim is to seek truth. The Bible teaches us that God wants to lead us into all truth, and we are trying to support one another in doing that. Part of that is trying to avoid personal bias and preconceptions. We're human, of course, so error is bound to creep in, but we believe God empowers us by His Spirit and that He is the leader, rather than any of us. Theologically, I'd say we were charismatic and evangelical in belief, catholic in worship and liberal in social concern. However, it would be a mistake to limit ourselves by such labels."

All six bore expressions I could not interpret. After a lengthy pause, one of the other men, Elijah Bailey? spoke slowly, "We were hoping to sell our building to another church, so worship would continue there, but we're concerned, we don't want to encourage – a sect."

I nodded. "The earliest Christians were a sect," I pointed out. "We don't deviate from the fundamental teachings of the church, 'once delivered to the saints'. The only difference with us is that we don't condemn those who don't agree with every detail of church doctrine. We believe that the only bench mark for belief is the Bible, and that needs to be carefully assessed in context, rather than proof-texts lifted out of context."