Bringing the Light

Growing up in the U.S, when October 31st rolls around, we know what time it is- as children don costumes of favorite characters and patrol the streets in search of sweet rewards, we welcome our neighbors and say hello to whatever witch, power ranger or unicorn might pass by our doors.

Yet just shortly after this American holiday, there is a German one that echoes it. On November 11th, in parts of Germany, the streets are filled with glowing paper lanterns as children pour into the streets to celebrate St. Martin’s Day. This tradition, similar to Halloween, involves going door to door. Yet instead of yelling “trick or treat,” the children sing to neighbors in return for sweet treats. The lanterns? They symbolize the light that holiness brings to the darkness, just as Saint Martin brought hope to the poor through his good deeds.
Just a few days ago, City Church sent a team of 6 to Germany: Stephen Day, Faith Cho, Tom Nicholas, Matt Meyer, Blake Parrot, and me. And while we were in Leipzig, we saw an early St. Martin’s parade—children laughing and singing, swaying paper lanterns spreading joy and light in the darkness, both literally, and figuratively, as Leipzig is one of the most secular cities in the world post World War II. Seeing this parade of lanterns, I couldn’t help but be moved and think of the work the churches we visited in Germany are doing.

In Frankfurt, we visited Stephan Pues at Mainprojekt, and helped paint a mural on the wall based on John 17, focusing on Jesus’s prayer for the church “That they may be one, as we are one.” This focus on unity, on being one, on cooperating and collaborating with each other so that we may be complete in Christ, was prevalent throughout our time in Germany. The unity that Stephan was seeking for Frankfurt was not perfect likeness; we talked to two incredibly different church planters in our time there, Philip, of Nerch (Nerd Church) and Tobias of Bockenheim. The Nerch is designed to bring fantasy lovers, board game addicts, and online gamers to a Christ-centered community. They focus on a mainly online service with a twitch live stream rolling the entire time. Tobias, on the other hand, is focusing on planting a church in Bockenheim, a university district of Frankfurt, with a heart for skeptics and doubters, based on his own testimony and journey of faith. Yet, these two churches are tied together in Christ, and their unity in him fuels another form of unity. Both churches have focused deeply on how they can better love the city of Frankfurt and the people there. That’s the final piece of the mural being painted on Mainprojekt’s wall: an eye with the skyline of Frankfurt reflected in its iris, in a hope that the people they send out will be reflecting the love we have been given from Christ back into the city where he called these churches  to be. It’s something I hope we as a team bring back to City Church, that we may be unified in love for Richmond. That we may work together with each other and with other believers to serve our neighbors and design events and programs that bring light to our community.

In Leipzig, we were surrounded by rich history, visiting churches where Bach played and composed, and where Luther preached. There are two large churches in the city center of Leipzig, St. Thomas, and St. Nicholas. These two churches are similar in style: large cathedral-like spaces with stained glass windows and grand pipe organs, but the thing that stood out to me the most was their altars. At St. Thomas, you can approach the edge of the altar and peer over the barrier fencing you out of entering the space, in order to glimpse the grave of Johann Sebastian Bach. While historically interesting, I can’t help thinking that Bach would hate being there. On every piece of music he composed, he wrote three words next to his signature, words that I’ve painted on a dear musician friend’s wall, words that Stephan Pues has tattooed on his body: Soli deo Gloria, to God alone the glory. Bach’s music is worthy of celebrating, but it’s meant to be the thing which we worship God through, not an object of worship itself. Walk the two blocks over to St. Nicholas, and another unique altar greets you. Walking to the front of the church, it feels like most European churches. Yet when you approach the barrier barring you from entering the altar, you’ll see a sign, saying (in German) “You are welcome here,” with a gate cut from the fence. You see, in the history of Leipzig, this church played a crucial role in the fall of the Iron Curtain. It became a gathering place for the lost and lonely, for those being pushed out by communism, for punks and rockers who needed a safe place to gather, and were welcomed in by a priest, and told to come sit in the altar space, at the feet of the cross, because that is what Christ invites us to do. This man taught these people to pray, which turned into a peaceful demonstration that brought 40,000 people together. While St. Thomas feels like a historic pilgrimage site for Bach lovers, the altar at St. Nicholas feels like a true reminder of the gospel. That through Christ, we are invited into God’s presence, that we are his children, and that we can lay our prayers at his feet, whoever we are. May City Church be a church with an “open altar,” so to speak. May we welcome our community inside to be seen and known by Christ.

There is far too much that we experienced to fit into just one blog post. I haven’t even begun to delve into the deep and sweet conversations we had with each of these church planters, the fun we had at Felsenkeller supporting the Leipzigprojekt’s “Bier and Bibel” event, the ways that Leipzigprojekt’s heart for Leipzig and non-believers has brought eight people to faith in the past year, with more curiously seeking him there. I’d encourage you to find someone who went on the trip and ask them questions about those conversations, about the work we witnessed God doing in these cities, and the people we met. My hope is that one day, you, too, can go and see the work being done there.

But for now, we can be praying for our partners in Germany. That the faith that was once so prevalent and strong in these cities would come back with fierce force. That revival would sweep through Frankfurt and Leipzig, stirring people’s hearts for Christ. That these church planters would be unified in their love of Christ and love of their cities, and that they will have strength and energy and good teams to do the work God has called them to do.

We can pray for City Church, too. That we may be moved to live missionally, to serve our city with the same passion that these churches do. That we may live every day as if it were St. Martin’s day, swinging a lantern of light, of hope in Christ, in a city full of darkness.

We may not celebrate this festival of light-bringing in the same way that Germany does, but we have our own parade of cuteness coming up. On December 6th, I’d invite you to come fill the pews of the church as children dressed as butterflies and donkeys and angels pour down the aisles telling the story of a tiny baby who has come to earth as this light. There will be a Christmas fair full of surprises following the performance. Invite your friends, your neighbors, your family. Let them witness the love and hope of Christ, the light, that our city so desperately needs.