The gospel gathers us, and our subsequent worship consists of what we say and what we enact. We say, we confess, that Jesus is Lord and we believe in our hearts that God raised Him from the dead. But Jesus said that if we love Him we will do what He said, and the very last thing he said for us to do is disciple the nations, baptize them, and teach them to obey all that He commanded. There it is—our marching orders: disciple, baptize, and teach. Pretty straightforward.
We are doing this in a world full of physical people who have immortal souls. In order to speak to their souls, we have to send bodies. We enact what we believe, with words, with water, with bread and wine, and with brick and mortar. In order to reach people who live in this world, we have to establish patterns of true worship in every place on this globe, and we have to do this in a way that does not interfere with the genius of the mission.
If we deliberately build a sanctuary that is just a glorified big box store, then we are fighting our own message that Christ is the embodiment of all that is true, good, and beautiful. But if we worship God in catacombs or field houses because we have the long view, and know that God’s strength is made perfect in weakness, then everything is quite different. As one historian put it, the Christian church lives in the light of eternity and can afford to be patient. Patience is a virtue, and is one of the characteristics that the Spirit establishes in our lives.
But as true as that is, it is also true that God has placed us in time, in history, and we should want to see the progress of the gospel we live for. “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: But when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life” (Prov. 13:12). This applies to evangelism, to Bible translation, to book publications, to church planting, and to the occupation of sanctuaries.
So let the stones cry out.