Cardboard Church

{Friends, if you haven’t seen the video Caine’s Arcade yet, view it below or here.  You can also view it at this website.  The site has follow-up info, as you will likely want to read how the story has continued. The video is 10 minutes, but more worth your time than any of my commentary below.  So, do yourself a favor, and watch it.  It will inspire you!}

I love the story of Caine and his arcade.  It really got me thinking about a few things related to our lives, especially as Christians, serving in churches today:

First, it made me celebrate the call of the hidden faithful.  All the small church pastors showing up each weekend, preaching to a few, as if it were a thousand.  All the moms serving their kids every day, giving up their own pursuits to encourage the next generation.  All the troops going overseas each year, putting their lives on hold to protect ours.  All the artists, writers, and talents laboring away at their trade, waiting for the day when their Nirvan will show up, and their work will be seen and known.  All those obscure, overlooked, hidden treasures out there—praying that what is done in secret shall be proclaimed from the rooftops.  Who don’t have the money, fame, resources, or success.  But who are using what they have, working just as hard, turning water into wine—making cardboard into cathedrals.

Next, it made me think about the reality of the local church.  Church is a serious thing, but sometimes we take ourselves too seriously.  Really, every church is just a shadow of the real substance.  Every weekend is just a dress rehearsal for the big day—when we finally worship around God’s throne.  Our churches are just cardboard cut-outs: no matter how big our building, no matter what the property value.  It’s a drop in the bucket compared to the worth of His heavenly City.  And the Church is not the walls.  {In fact, one famous New Zealand cathedral in Christchurch has decided to rebuild… out of cardboard!}  We pray that our weekend arcade will attract the one, who will tell the many—who will all come and play and appreciate what we have built together on this side of eternity.  But we will still be a paper mache of the New Jerusalem.  And let’s not try to pretend otherwise.  Our foolishness shames the wisdom of this world.  It’s a beautiful thing, as it is.  And it can be loved and enjoyed, just the same.

Finally, it reminded me to be moved by compassion.  When I was in South Korea, one of the associate ministers, Susie Park, left to plant a church.  Her and two friends were starting a “tent church.”  It was the first time I had heard of this concept.  Essentially, they would pray to hear about a family in need.  Then, they would go to that family and stay with them—to serve them, love them, help them, equip them.  They would meet in their living room for Bible study.  And they would be a presence in their lives until the family was strengthened.  She explained: “We will just keep serving them until God moves us to the next family.  They can come with us.  Or, if God leads, they can begin reaching out to others in their community.  Also, we can help connect them with a local pastor.”  This made sense.  Many people cannot leave their homes to attend church.  Why not bring church to them?  We may think of church as a moving experience, emotionally.  But hasn’t church historically been a “moving experience,” literally?  God led the people of Israel in this way, asking them to have tent church.  And Susie showed me how ministers of the early church also went from “house to house” (Acts 5:42; 20:20).  Likewise, Nirvan displayed a contagious compassion (literally meaning, “with heart”).  He went to Caine.  He got the word out.  He brought friends.  And they blessed Caine’s socks off—still are, in fact.  And it’s obvious Nirvan's joy has been increased in it.  He is having the time of his life, given someone else the start of his.

That’s the thing about cardboard.  It’s easily moveable.  And it made me excited to think of the possibilities—to one day bless someone like this, with a group of like-minded believers.  It made my heart shout: “Let’s be resourceful.  Let’s be real.  Let’s reach out.”  Let’s have cardboard church.