The church steeple seems to echo an eternal call, yet closed doors keep both curious passersby and distant believers from crossing the threshold. Should a church's doors remain closed or open? Three different encounters have offered me two different answers.
A Closed Door
On an old street in the capital city of a southern province, a historic church stands in quiet dignity. One afternoon during a business trip, seven of us, including several local pastors and church co-workers, strolled along the street after a meal and came upon this church.
To our disappointment, the church door was shut, for there was no gathering scheduled that day. An elderly pastor knocked on the heavy door, but there was no response. She knocked again, more firmly, but still received no reply. One local sister, eager to let the visiting believers have a look inside, approached and tried to peer through the gap between the door, but it was futile. Refusing to give up, the group searched for contact information from the "Church Introduction" and online, yet found nothing useful. Ultimately, we had no choice but to give up the idea of entering and settle for taking photos outside.
Frustrated, a local church co-worker remarked that the church often complains about how difficult it is to share the gospel nowadays. If the reception ministry were handled properly, it wouldn't be this way.
Wary Eyes
I recall another occasion when I was unable to enter a church. It was a Sunday afternoon, two to three hours before the service. This old gray-walled church, with a history of over 140 years, stood quietly in a narrow alley lined with strong sycamore trees.
As my business trip was drawing to a close, I planned to stop by this centennial church, which is located not far from the train station. Walking along the alley, I reached the church entrance and saw that the electric retractable gate was open. Gazing at the sacred structure, I felt a brief moment of peace in my weary heart.
I longed to go inside, to sit quietly and pray. But I lacked the energy to approach the security guard standing in the courtyard, and I didn't dare enter without permission. Carrying a heavy backpack, I stood there uncertainly. After a few moments, the guard glanced at me, then pressed a button on his remote. Slowly, the open gate began to close. I stepped away and crossed the street, watching the church from a distance. I walked around the exterior, taking several photos. During that time, I was anxious that the guard might look at me again. That glance made me feel as though I were a thief.
While I was wandering near the church, three young people approached, chatting and laughing. They stopped at the entrance for a moment, but finally chose not to go in, leaving with chats and laughs.
A Warm Welcome
In contrast to the two disappointing encounters above, my experience as a "newcomer" at another century-old church was totally different.
It was also a Sunday, with more than half an hour before the worship service began. I stood outside the church, dragging a small suitcase and reading the church's introduction engraved on a stone tablet. A middle-aged Christian woman approached, somewhat hesitantly, and asked with a warm smile, "Is this your first time here? Would you like to come in and learn more?" Upon learning that I was a Christian planning to attend the upcoming service, she smiled and walked back to the entrance, briefly speaking to another sister who stood there to receive visitors.
After finishing the introduction, I entered the church and found a seat near the back where I could place my luggage. Shortly, a young believer approached, saying he had heard I was new, and asked if I had time to chat. Thinking he should engage with seekers, I told him I had already been baptized years ago. Yet, despite knowing I was already a Christian and only visiting due to a business trip, he still spoke with me sincerely about salvation for over ten minutes. We spoke in the church annex, while he asked another church co-worker at the reception to help look after my luggage in the main sanctuary. Our conversation concluded just as the service was about to begin.
Later, I learned that this historic church has a dedicated fellowship group tasked with welcoming newcomers, composed of several dozen members. For newcomers who are seeking the truth, they arrange a short 15-minute gospel presentation in another room.
From the embarrassment of being turned away to the warmth of being genuinely received, these three contrasting experiences have shown me that whether a church door is open or closed affects far more than access to a building; it may be the very key to whether the gospel reaches the hearts of those longing for truth.
(Originally published by the Gospel Times, this article has been edited with permission. The author is a believer from Jiangsu Province.)
- Edited by Karen Luo, translated by Poppy Chan
