No church building.
No one-directional benches or rows of chairs.
No stage.
No pulpit.
No amplification.
No disco lights.
No altar.
No single teacher and long monologues.

Instead:

“You can all prophesy in turn…” (1 Corinthians 14:31)
“They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts” (Acts 2:46)
“Each of you has a hymn, a teaching, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation…” (1 Corinthians 14:26)
“Confess your sins to one another…” (James 5:16)
“Encourage one another and build each other up…” (1 Thessalonians 5:11)

What we see in the New Testament is a vibrant, participatory, Spirit-led community — not a staged, one-directional religious performance, as if church were a philosopher’s lecture held in a glorified schoolroom in ancient Greece.

Yes. The Western church copied the Greek amphitheater model: one man speaking, everyone else spectating. What we now call a “church service” bears little resemblance to the gatherings described in Scripture.

In fact, the words “service” and “worship” are never used to describe church meetings. They gathered. That’s it. And those gatherings were spontaneous, relational, and deeply communal.

Worship wasn’t about lights and amplifiers. It was like what it was in the Hebrew Scriptures. The Hebrew word shachah means to “bow down”, to “immerse”, to “surrender”. Praise was about songs — Worship was a life-long surrender poured out in love, in justice, in feeding the hungry, and honoring Jesus at the table.

I can imagine a few of the older, more mature leaders in the group sharing insights and maybe asking open-ended questions to spark a group discussion. But I can’t picture a typical gathering where, unless a special guest was visiting, one person would speak alone for an hour while everyone else sat silently, just staring. That’s almost the exact opposite of how these gatherings typically looked and felt.

These elders weren’t sitting on the board of directors of a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. They were more like rabbis — overseeing the community, offering direction, challenging when needed, guiding conversations, and shepherding people with wisdom and care. And it all happened in homes — in basements, living rooms, courtyards, and backyards. There were no church buildings like we know them today. Those mostly began to appear only around the 3rd or 4th centuries, especially following Constantine the Great, who institutionalized Christianity, aligning it with the Roman and Greek worlds and severing it from most of its Jewish roots.

Monologic vs. Dialogic

Forty-five-minute monologues? That’s definitely not how Rabbi Jesus taught.

According to the gospels—Jesus asked questions, told stories, invited dialogue, and sparked conversations that made people think, wrestle, and respond. His teaching was interactive, personal, and rooted in real-life moments — not staged lectures with passive audiences.

Likewise, at the center of the first churches’ “service” meetings was not an hour-long sermon — it was the Lord’s Supper. Teachings, hymns, and Scripture readings flowed spontaneously and richly (1 Corinthians 14:26), because it wasn’t just one person speaking as if they alone knew God — everyone could contribute, share, and be heard.

Today, you can go to church every Sunday for ten years and still be the same person you were at the start. But if churches centered on “building one another up,” then ten years later you’d be someone entirely different — more patient with the immature, more understanding of sinners, more compassionate in your relationships, more resilient under pressure, and more willing to love others sacrificially. But we’ll never see that kind of transformation today — not as long as the church remains a monologue run by a few people on a distant stage with microphones and loudspeakers.

The church was never meant to resemble a conference hall or entertainment center. It was meant to be a network of spiritual rehab centers — scattered across the world — Christ-centered communities where broken people help heal each other through love, truth, and grace.

Jesus said, “They’ll know you are my disciples by your love for one another.”
But how is that love supposed to be seen when we sit silently for an hour or two, staring at a stage, without speaking to anyone? You can’t practice love without interaction. You can’t bear one another’s burdens, encourage, forgive, or build each other up in a spectator setting. Love isn’t proven by attendance — it’s revealed in relationships.

This leads us to the Lord’s Supper.

The Lord’s Supper

No, the Lord’s Supper wasn’t a crumb of matzah and a plastic shot of grape juice. It was, in very Jewish fashion, a full meal — literally a supper. The center of the gatherings was a communal feast. With food, wine, conversation, and joy. The Lord’s Supper was first celebrated at Passover, after all.

In most Protestant and Catholic denominations today, the Lord’s Supper is often reduced to a somber ritual: quiet reflection, bowed heads, and emotional self-flagellation due to a rush of guilt. But in the New Testament, it was a joyful table of fellowship — a celebration of Jesus’ victory and resurrection, not a re-enactment of His suffering.

Some Corinthians even got drunk at it (1 Corinthians 11). That’s how much wine was involved. Paul rebuked them for their selfishness, not for feasting. The problem wasn’t celebration — it was exclusion of others and self-centeredness (1 Corinthians 11:21-22).

The Lord’s Supper, much like the original one—which was a Jewish celebration of the Passover—was a profound picture of grace. In Exodus, the blood of the lambs protected Israel. It didn’t matter how “good” you were — if a lamb’s blood marked your door, you and your family were safe. The Passover feasts were celebratory. That’s also the point of the Lord’s Supper in the New Testament — a celebration!

And guess what — unbelievers love celebrations, food, and wine too. So it became easy to invite them. And when they came, they saw a joyful community, full of life, eating, speaking truth and wisdom, but also laughing with one another, and lots of talking about Jesus. It was both sacred and enjoyable. Who wouldn’t want to be part of that?

However, Paul called them to celebrate not just during their gatherings for a feast, but at all times:

“Whether you eat or drink [aka, celebrate], or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:31)

In other words, don’t reserve your celebrations for feast days alone—honor and enjoy God in everything you do. Celebrate Him in your family life, in your work, at the market, and around the table. Let every part of your life become a living expression of worship!

Conclusion

In conclusion, the first-century church wasn’t defined by architecture, hierarchy, or ritual — it was defined by love, presence, and participation. It was Jesus at the center — not a platform, not a program — shared, remembered, celebrated, and embodied around the table. Theirs was a faith lived out in homes, in meals, in honest conversation and mutual care. They didn’t just attend church — they were the church: a living body where every part mattered, every voice had value, and every gathering was a chance to reflect the heart of Jesus in real time. That’s what made them dangerous. That’s what made them holy. And that’s what can make us come alive again.

However, I think the church, especially in the United States of America, has a bigger problem right now: