Acts 2:42 tells us the believers in the Jerusalem church were engaged with each other in four ways:

1) The apostles’ doctrine — which means they were studying the Word. Without a written New Testament, the apostles were relating their personal stories of Jesus to the new believers. In our gospels, we have much, most, or possibly all of what they shared.

2) Fellowship. More about this below.

3) Breaking of bread — they were eating together.

4) Prayer — they were praying with one another.

Let’s draw a bead on the second element, fellowship. The Greek word, as everyone on the planet has heard by now, is ‘koinonia.’ It’s a good word and basically refers to something that is shared. We sit at the table together and share a “common” meal. “Common” means we all partake of it. When I was in college, the big living room on the first floor of the dormitory was called the common room. Likewise, we have words like community, commune, commonality, and communication.

My Greek professors–all of whom are in Heaven and presumably none of whom read this blog–might not appreciate my free-wheeling take on “fellowship” or “koinonia,” but I think of it as simply “hanging out.” To “fellowship” is simply to spend time with others without an agenda.

We don’t do much of that any more. Not in life in general or in the church in particular. But it’s one of the best parts of life.

Each afternoon at the McDonalds a few blocks down the street from my house, the old guys meet for coffee and fellowship. Their wives are glad to get them out of the house, their adult children are glad Pop has some friends, and the men themselves may look upon it as harmless chit-chat, but the idea is the same. Hanging out.

I spent two hours hanging out at church this morning. Here’s what happened.

I woke up with a mild case of vertigo, which hits me every few months. Since this was Friday and I try to take off at noon when I can, and since it was the last day of vacation Bible school at our church, I called in and informed our office staff I’d see them Monday. Then, I drove to the church. It’s only two miles and nowhere near the interstate, and my vertigo was abating.

In the courtyard, the children were gathering. Signs identified where various classes were to assemble, with a teacher or volunteer at each. Since I was pastor of most of these folks for fourteen years and have known some almost all their lives, I went around hugging and hello-ing. I do not know most of the little children, but ended up drawing a number of them.

When VBS assembly began, I followed them inside and observed how these things have changed over the years. In the 1960s, as a very young pastor, I directed our church VBS and led every aspect of the program. I memorized all the songs and scriptures and pledges and got more out of it than any child.

Today, the VBS joint program–the assembly or whatever it’s called now–has come into the 21st century. It’s big business. Lifeway produces these incredible turn-key operations for Bible school with DVDs, props, costumes, posters, everything. The theme this year is “Outrigger Island,” a Hawaiian motif, and it’s as classy as anything you’ll find. Last week while driving through a small Alabama town, I noticed that the Church of Christ was announcing “Outrigger Island” as their Bible school, too.

Whether the children learn their scriptures and songs better than our kids did 40 years ago, I’ll leave to others to decide. In those days, I’d include what we called a “character story” every day. My son Neil still remembers some of them, since I would retell the better ones year after year. Glenn Cunningham’s recovery from a devastating school fire to become an Olympic champion is one that has stayed with him all these years.

Anyway. After the program when the children went to their classes, I walked around, talking to people.

“Tabatha, tell me about yourself,” I said to a woman in the kitchen whom I had not met until that moment. Since everyone was sporting name tags, introductions were simple.

“I started coming to church with Kathy Farnsworth and got saved,” she said. “And I am happy in the Lord!”

Definitely not what I expected, so I probed a little. What was life like before? “Miserable. I was searching. I drifted from church to church until I got here. I knew this was where God wanted me. I love it here.”

What religion were you before? “Catholic, but not much of one.”

How did your family take it? “My dad didn’t understood it. He would say, ‘So, honey, you’re not a Catholic any more?’ I assured him that something inside me would always be Catholic, but this was about Jesus Christ in my life and living for God.”

When she told me her father died not long ago, I said, “Then, he knows by now that what you did was right.” She said, “He showed me with his eyes before he died that it was fine with him.”

I gave her a big hug and said, “Welcome to the family.”

Walking around. Hanging out. Seeing 18-year-olds who are heading to college this fall, but who were babies when I became their pastor in 1990. Young adults now, they think of me like an uncle or something. Sweet.

I chatted with a friend whose husband died several years ago. “I think of him every day,” she said. When I asked about her children, she said, “My daughter has helped me keep my sanity. She’s like you in that she finds humor in every situation.” Then she told me a story you will enjoy.

“My daughter called me one day and said, ‘Mom, have you been to the cemetery and seen Dad’s grave?'” I said, “Not in the last few days.”

She said, “Well, the grass on it is greener than anything around it. It’s uncanny.”

“Sure enough,” my friend said, “it looked like someone had gone around it with an edger. It was neater and greener than anything out there.”

“I told my daughter, ‘Maybe it was Dad’s friend Tom. He owns a place that sells gardening supplies. Maybe he put a little fertilizer in Dad’s pocket before they lowered him into the grave.”

We laughed at her little joke.

“But my daughter said, ‘Oh Mom, you know that dad was always full of it!'” They screamed at that. I could imagine her terrific husband enjoying it, too.

I said, “I remember something you said years ago when your own mom died. At the wake, people were coming and going and eating in her home. You said to your sister, ‘If mom knew people were in her house eating off paper plates, it would just kill her!’ And you all had a big laugh over that.”

She smiled at the memory. I could tell it did her good just to remember this.

Visiting with friends. Hanging out. In the name of the Lord.

I introduced myself to children I didn’t know and asked some of the older ones who were working as volunteers about themselves.

My strong contention is that there is no place for shyness in the church. This is the place where you walk up to strangers and greet them, where you meet someone for the first time with “So, tell me about yourself,” where you feel safe in sharing yourself.

Down at the Cheers bar–or the version of it in your neighborhood–people may enter and hang out in the hope and expectation that “everybody knows your name,” but at the church it’s the real deal. This is where you find the kind of fellowship that touches your deepest places and meets your strongest needs. From what I hear, too many people who walk into bars are people-users and even people-abusers.

Alas, there’s a little of this in some churches, but I’m happy to say it’s a rarity and the exception.

I’ve not heard of anyone doing a study of “hanging out in the name of the Lord,” or for that matter, “hanging out in the house of the Lord.” But for my money, that is a major element in Christian fellowship.

Maybe it wouldn’t work if we all came to the church building for no purpose but to sit around and jaw. Perhaps it works best when we are focused on something like vacation Bible school or a study class, and let the fellowship result from the time we spend working on the same project.

I’m still learning about the nature of fellowship, but one thing I settled for certain a long time ago: Christian fellowship is like oxygen to my soul. I can’t live without it for long, but am exhilarated by inhaling its refreshing power.

All right, now, this is the place where you come to the realization that “That’s what I love about my Sunday School class!” Or your mission study group. Or your coffee gang.

Outsiders may see it as so much wasted time. But you know the truth.