On the other hand

On the other hand, the neighborhood pub is a thriving, happening place. It is a block down the street from the church and the grocery. It has also been there as long as anyone can remember, under many different owners. It was one of the first properties purchased and transformed by the now massive McMennamin Brothers' empire. It does microbrewing on premesis, serves decent food, is fairly kid friendly, and closes early enough on weeknights not to annoy the neighbors too much.

So what gives? To at least one of my predecessors, the answer would be simple. Sin is popular. I've been told that one of our pastors in the 1940's came to us after serving a church in a rowdy lumbering town in eastern Oregon. He was fearless and uncompromising and used to stand outside the door of the (then) tavern and exhort its patrons to turn from the evils of drink and embrace the gospel. Perhaps this was effective in the short term, but it appears the drinkers are going to win in the end.

But really, alcohol aside, what happens in a night at the local pub for dozens of folks in this neighborhood that apparently doesn't happen for them in a Sunday morning at church? Is the fellowship more genuine? The acceptable topics of conversation less limited? Is the bartender a more adept pastoral counsellor than most pastors? Is it that, after a few beers, anyone is welcome to hold forth in grand sermonic fashion? That your kids can crawl under the table and play UNO and no one looks askance? Maybe.

BUT, will they pray for you when you're in trouble? Will they organize a casserole brigade when you're sick? Is there anything there that is truly trancendant? In fact, would the place even be there still if it had to be totally self-sufficient instead of being one part of the most successful microbrew/pub chain in the Northwest?

Lord, to whom could we go?
You have the words of eternal life . . .