“It should not surprise us that a religion whose fundamental doctrine is the incarnation should take space seriously in its worship. Not only did Jesus Christ enter human time, but he also came to dwell among us, occupying a specific and definite place on earth in Judea. The New Testament is full of place names; Jesus was at Jerusalem, Bethany, The Sea of Galilee, the River Jordan, and so on.
The same is true for the rest of salvation history. The Jewish and Christian God is made known by events that occur among men and women, not on Mt. Olympus or in Valhalla. It is space on earth that is made holy, not because of the place itself but because of what God does for humans in that place. In the Bible, saving events usually happen at some ordinary field, well, or village street. Today such places would be as ordinary as a shopping mall. The location is indifferent, the event is crucial.”
— James White, Introduction to Christian Worship, p.81
Different Places, Different Lessons
I wrote about this idea over a decade ago. At the time, I was heavily involved with The City Church Canterbury, a church that meets in a school hall. Back then, I was all in: serving most weeks, helping make church happen. We didn’t have pews or stained glass or soaring ceilings. We had plastic chairs, a temporary stage, and a coffee table tucked away in the corner. And yet, week after week, that hall became something more. It became a space where we met with God.
I remember thinking a lot about how churches, especially in traditions like the Orthodox Church, treat place and space differently. The church building is the place, the altar is the space, the focal point of worship. There’s structure, formality, clear roles, and physical separation between clergy and congregation.
But at The City Church? Our space was everything at once. The school hall was both the place and the space. There was no division: Leaders stood among us, and anyone could contribute. It felt… different. More open.
Since then, life has moved on. I spent several years in London at Emmanuel Church London, another Newfrontiers church that felt very similar. Same heart, same approach, same commitment to making it work in a rented space.
Now, life having moved on again, living in North Somerset, my church experience looks quite different. I attend Locking Castle Church, an ecumenical partnership that brings together Anglican, Methodist, Baptist, and URC traditions. And I also find myself at St Augustine’s Church, Whitchurch. Each of these churches has its own unique rhythm, its own approach to worship, and its own ideas about place and space.
Life Changes, and So Does Serving
But I’m not serving in the same way anymore. Having a three-year-old daughter makes things… tricky. I can’t just show up early to set up chairs or stay late to pack things down like I used to. Sunday mornings aren’t quite so flexible when you’re trying to wrangle a toddler.
And honestly? That’s been an adjustment.
For years, I served almost every week whether it was running sound, setting up, or helping with midweek communications. It’s what I knew. It’s where I felt useful. Now, my contribution looks different. Marketing and communications, my day job, are areas where I could serve more, and when I do, it feels like a natural fit. But I’ll be honest, I’m not doing as much as I could right now. That’s a whole other conversation for another time.
Theatre, Worship, and Holding Space
Through all of this, one thing has remained constant, whether I’m physically helping set up or not, what really matters is the event. The meeting with God. The transformation of an ordinary place into something sacred.
Recently, with the release of Wicked: Part One, I’ve seen loads of people talking about holding space for the song Defying Gravity. It’s funny, but also… kind of true. There’s something about performance, whether it’s on stage or in worship, that requires space to be held. The audience collectively holds their breath, the lights dim, the moment arrives.
It’s the same with church.
Whether in a grand cathedral or a school hall, there’s a moment, an anticipation, when the mundane becomes meaningful. And that’s what’s stuck with me all these years. The location is indifferent. It’s the event – the encounter – that changes everything.
Lessons in Place and Space
Looking back, I realise I used to put so much emphasis on where church happened. Whether it was a school hall, a student union bar, or a rented venue, I felt a responsibility to make it feel ‘right.’ But what really makes a space sacred? It’s not the chairs or the sound system or the lighting (though I still prefer good lighting). It’s the event. It’s what happens when we come together with expectation.
For a long time, my perspective on church was shaped by the idea that I was living to see Christ’s bride beautified. That phrase used to sit right under the title of my old blog title, Living the Scandalous Life. It reflected how I saw my role: serving, contributing, making things happen, doing my part to help the church be the best it could be. And I loved it. But I also think I got caught up in the mechanics of it all, so much so that I sometimes forgot that Christ is already beautifying His bride, with or without my help.
I’ve been part of churches that meet in beautiful, purpose-built buildings with stained glass and high ceilings, and I’ve been part of churches that meet in spaces that, by Monday morning, are back to being sports halls or cafeterias. And in both, I’ve seen God move.
Places come and go. Church buildings change. But the events? The moments? Those stay with us.
Jacob experienced this when he encountered God in a dream at Bethel. He woke up, marked the spot, and gave it significance. The place itself wasn’t special, until God met him there. And I think that’s true for us too. Some of the most meaningful encounters in my life haven’t been in grand spaces but in everyday, seemingly ordinary ones.
Bringing It All Together
So now, as I find myself in a different season of life. Attending different churches, serving in different ways. I’m learning to hold space for what really matters. Whether it’s an old school hall, an Anglican church, or my own living room, I’m trying to remember that the location is indifferent.
It’s the event – the encounter – that matters.
Jonathan Pay - email marketing consultant 