Digging Out the Embedded Church - The Maranatha Community

ead, nicely browned on top. He placed this on the plate on the table. From the cupboard he
drew out a bottle of wine and poured some into the cup. I looked round the room. The table
was in front of a small pulpit that was backed by a Bible text: „That in all things he might
have the pre-eminence‟ (Colossians 1.18). The hard, dark benches filled up the rest of the
room, which had obviously been a builder‟s storeroom at one time, and a large black-leaded
stove stood solidly in the centre, its shiny pipe leading up into the roof.
Soon a few people began to arrive, mainly middle-aged or elderly, country folk with rugged
kind faces and welcoming smiles, the ladies with straw hats of various sizes and shapes well
set on their heads.
I had attended a Brethren „Breaking of Bread‟ meeting before so I knew that the hour-long
gathering would be unstructured, with simple, extempore prayers by the men only and
wistful, devotional hymns sung unaccompanied from a little black book. There was an
American harmonium in the room but this was not used for the Communion service.
I expected a short homily or mini-sermon to be given by one of the brothers, and this was the
case this Sunday. The prayers and homily were all centred on the adoration of Christ,
especially in his dying on the Cross, which was the central theme of most of the hymns in the
little black book.
After a brother had said an appropriate prayer of thanks „for the bread‟, symbolising the body
of Christ, the barm cake was passed round the members, each breaking off a piece and eating
it in silence, symbol of the body of Christ. A different brother gave thanks for the cup of
wine, symbol of the blood of Christ, which also was passed round the members in silence,
each sipping from it. (The wine was „real wine‟, not just fruit juice.)
For the rest of my National Service I met with this little group of believers in Jesus and
wondered why all Christians could not meet in this way, simply and uncluttered.
I attended their mid-week prayer and Bible ministry meetings, often having to listen to
speakers with droning voices, but with at least something to say relevant to living the
Christian life. Only the men prayed at these meetings, and to me this seemed odd, as the
„sisters‟, I found, were spiritually perceptive and well instructed in the „things of God‟.
There was some consternation among the sisters (but no offence taken) when one or two
young Christian nurses from the local hospital began to attend the meetings (perhaps hearing
that a few airmen had started to attend the Gospel Hall), and asked why they could not
contribute to the conversational-style Bible readings, where only the men took part.
We airmen conducted Sunday afternoon classes for children we gathered off the streets. We
taught them Bible texts; one was Hebrews 13.1, „Let brotherly love continue‟, which was
particularly appropriate for two boys who regularly pummelled others before repeating the
text.
These were happy days in which I found a group of healthy-minded believers in Jesus who
worshipped in a particular and rather odd way, with no pretensions to be better, holier or
more instructed than other Christians. They were well disposed towards all who loved and
served Jesus. Yet, perhaps because they were mainly an elderly congregation lacking the
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