[submitted by a friend who visited Feb, 2011]

When Tom Hardwick asked me to write down my thoughts on the first Vineyard service that I attended I was keen to oblige. However, now that I come to do so, the task is significantly more difficult than expected. One thing is clear – I have not stopped thinking about the experience since it happened. My immediate reactions and thoughts have changed (evolved?) and developed since the service, but even now seem to be in a continual state of flux. This makes writing a reflection rather tricky, but this is my sincere attempt.

I am not a Christian, I suppose the correct term for my belief system is ‘agnostic’, but somehow the label is rather too vague, sufficient to say that I believe in God, but am unsure of anything further than that.

Walking into the warehouse at Vineyard is a rather overwhelming experience for a newcomer. People are friendly and welcoming, undoubtedly, and there was not one exception to this. Everywhere I looked, if I made eye contact there would be an exchange of smiles. However, the relaxed atmosphere can lead to a certain amount of anxiety – what was I supposed to do? Where should I go? Who should I talk to? Where should I sit? (I should say that I did come with another regular attendee and was also accompanied by Tom – I can imagine that this feeling is multiplied if unaccompanied).

Everyone I saw didn’t look like they had arrived at church – instead it appeared that they had turned up to an impromptu social event and I had an instant impression of community - something that has been distinctly lacking in my previous experiences of walking into a church (I was a regular attendee of an Anglican church until my late teens). There were no hushed tones, no tiptoeing or apologetic grimaces for latecomers.

And I literally had no idea what to do.

“Where do you want to sit?” asked my friend

“Where am I supposed to sit?” is what I wanted to reply – the choice was unsettling.

There is something reassuring and soporific about rules and etiquette – when you know what they are you can actually switch off and move into autopilot. This, as far as I could tell, did not happen for one single second of the few hours that I spent at Vineyard. No one was switched off – everyone was very much switched on.

Without doubt, worship was the most difficult part of the service for me. Two issues were key. Firstly, as a non-Christian I did not believe all the words on the screen, which made engagement difficult – everybody else in the room appeared to believe them absolutely and confidently. Secondly, and perhaps more significantly (as the problem with belief is common to any service that I might attend) was the external expressions of prayer and faith.

I am aware that my religious upbringing has probably conditioned me to be rather repressed in expression of belief – silent prayer, murmured words and complete stillness are familiar tropes to me. Outstretched arms, shouting, movement and singing loudly are unfamiliar, and as a result rather uncomfortable. I simply don’t know what to do. Or where to look for that matter – I felt as if I was invading personal thoughts – I wanted to make it clear that I had no problem with these expressions, yet at the same time could not access the feelings and thoughts of others around me.

What I was sure of, however, was the authenticity in these gestures. After about ten minutes I began to relax – I felt no compulsion to join in (other than standing up) but began to feel more comfortable in my own skin. No one seemed to worry about whether I was standing up, sitting down or moving my arms, and I realised that this was because they were actively involved in worship. When the time felt right I sat down again.

Once the attention was firmly placed back on the front and the speaker I felt a little less vulnerable. Jim’s talk was infinitely more interesting than many sermons that I have been unlucky enough to sit through. I’ll be honest, as an ex-regular churchgoer I would estimate that about one in twenty sermons would resonate with me. The talk was accessible in terms of language, but also much easier to follow because of the PowerPoint slides - I felt actively engaged, both intellectually and emotionally, again, a rather new experience.

Coming to a service that is in the middle of a series of talks on a specific theme is slightly problematic. I felt not only had I missed some foundational information but also that I was not, spiritually, in the same place as the majority of people in the room. It is a strange experience to sit in a room with lots of people who share common beliefs and to know that you do not. I should add here, that I do not consider my status as a ‘non-Christian’ to be absolute. I am perfectly happy to accept that my spirituality is an ever changing and evolving state, and one that might move onto a completely different path.   

The second worship section of the service was rather overwhelming, I had been at the warehouse for a long time – we arrived quite early and I felt quite exhausted from the different facets of the service. My level of engagement was so high, that by this point I felt quite tired. I craved some time for quieter reflection, perhaps a moment of silence. So many thoughts were racing through my head (and still are) that I desperately wanted to have a moment to take stock of them.

I had a sudden and emotional reaction to the words of one of the people that came up to speak. However, instead of wanting to go up to pray – something that, for me, did not seem right, I felt a strong urge to be still and quiet and again, have time to think. This was probably the most uncomfortable moment for me. Vineyard is a very ‘big’ experience, the level of engagement, time spent in worship and actual amount of words, noise and music that occur can seem too much. The idea of walking up to the front was inconceivable – I felt far too vulnerable.

By the time the service finished I was significantly more relaxed than when I had walked through the door several hours ago. I chatted to a few people, wondered around a little and eventually left the warehouse feeling pretty good. 

My impressions of Vineyard were and still are complex. The process of writing has consolidated some of them and leads to this rather tenuous conclusion.

I was genuinely thrilled to be in an environment where I could talk and engage to a high level. This was a completely different experience to any other church service I had attended – there was no danger of ‘switching off’ and allowing the stream of words to become meaningless. I admired the sense of community and obvious enjoyment that people got from being at Vineyard – their worship did not seem like a task to be carried out, but a living activity that was heartfelt and joyful.

I did, however, crave a moment for reflection and silence – the music, the noise and the pace of the service felt overwhelming - my head was spinning by the conclusion of the worship and I found it hard to separate all my thoughts from one another.

The relaxed atmosphere could, at times, be rather confusing. Being ‘allowed’ to react however I chose was maybe too liberating, and it was this that left me standing awkwardly at times, shifting from one foot to the other.

The service left a definite emotional impression, that, try as I might over the course of writing this, I cannot express in words. I can’t even begin to unravel this or explain this sense in any logical way, and I don’t think I should try any more. Needless to say it is this feeling that separates the experience more absolutely than any other.