I remember clearly, although I'm not sure why, a statement I first made one Sunday morning in the early 1950s to the Maple Grove (Topeka, IN) Mennonite congregation. I said, "The most important things going on in the world at this time are not happening in Washington, D.C., Moscow, or London. They are happening in the midst of the local communities of believers." I think that evaluation of the world situation still characterized our basic conviction in the late 1960s and early 1970s when some of us asked the College Mennonite Church to grant us the privilege to experiment with forms of the local congregation. After some two decades of serving in the institutional church programs many of us were not persuaded that the more formal and perfunctory approaches to church were adequate.

Those of us promoting intensive small groups as the basic organic unit of the congregation were not alone in this frustration with local congregational life. In a lecture to a Humane Studies Program Workshop in the spring of 1974 Professor Daniel Hess opined that the congregation must give us a vantage point from which the Humane Studies Program could proceed, and he decried the congregational situation in many of our Mennonite churches in terms with which many of us agreed. He said, in part:

"An even larger question pertains to the current state of many congregations. I am not referring to the rather superficial annoyances such as not liking the preacher or being dissatisfied with the meeting time. Instead, there seems to be a wide-spread failing of congregational health. Mennonites have not found effective congregational forms for its [sic] post-1960 membership. Where the church has borrowed from other major American denominations and dioceses, the results have compromised the commitment. ... Congregations know they are in trouble and deserve criticism. But the servant to whom they might turn for help has not delivered the imaginative help he ought to give."

The Assembly vision grew out of this stark realization that something was missing in our church congregational life. In its urgent need during the first half of the twentieth century to develop a denominational organization the church had given highest priority to the development of institutional boards and programs such as missions, publications, education, and the like. At the congregational level old patterns of organization and worship were continuing, or where changing, traditional Protestant patterns were being adopted with little attempt to adjust them to the values of Anabaptist-Mennonite community life.

The 1960s and early '70s were a dynamic period of turmoil, protest and experimentation. The charismatic movement was at its height. Vatican II still provided excitement on the ecumenical front. The nonviolent protests of the civil rights movement were still active. The Vietnam War protests were in high gear. Therapy groups were emphasizing face to face, uninhibited expression as the way to personal and social health. Church leadership seminars and retreats were stressing the importance of the "gifts of the Spirit" among all the people of God (laity). Koinonia Farm, the Society of Brothers, the Reba Place Fellowship, and Church of the Savior, to mention only a few, provided precedents and challenges.

In all this social and political turbulence many of our college age young people were deciding that the church was not a significant broker for change. Many of those who were still attending Sunday morning services were seeking out congregations where more spontaneous emotional expression was encouraged. In the early '70s the College Church congregation was experiencing a significant decline in student attendance, and those of us who were directly involved with student life felt that the congregation was not responding adequately to the new challenges. This in brief was the context in which we began what came to be known for lack of a formal name as the Assembly Mennonite Church.

Others will be tracing the historical developments of our activities. I have been asked to reflect on the theological convictions that motivated us as we tried to express the dynamic of the Spirit of Jesus in our life together. While I do not apologize for it, I must point out that I am quite aware that the following were my own theological concerns. I'm sure that others would give them a slightly different emphasis, however, I think that we were remarkably unified in our deep concern to actualize the spirit and mode of the kingdom of God in our life and witness.

Ecclesiological Focus

Theologically considered, our concerns were mainly ecclesiological. We strongly affirmed the lordship of Jesus Christ as he was presented in the New Testament scriptures, and we understood salvation as life in a new order of relationships under his authority. The local congregations of the church were to be the saved and saving communities giving expression to the new order of the kingdom in which individuals found meaning and purpose for their lives "in Christ." This understanding of salvation was intentionally implied in our earliest covenant confession where we simply confessed Jesus as "lord," not "savior and lord." Christ was our "savior" by virtue of being our "lord." As "head of the church" he both directed and nourished the church enabling it to become "the body of Christ." It was only some years later that the words "savior and" were added.

We were clearly focused on the New Testament, but we used it as a model for our church life, not so much as a theological textbook for doctrines. For us the new life in Christ both in its individual and social aspects was the focus, not so much a correct system of doctrine. I think it would be unfair to say that we were hung up on the Sermon on the Mount, but we certainly did not read the letters of Paul from a Lutheran perspective! Rather his emphasis on participation (koinonia) in Christ, i.e., in his life and mission, and his call to a new social expression of life in Christ motivated us.

Potential members were not required to be firmly committed to certain doctrinal formulas or practical applications (not even on the peace issues), but rather that they covenant to sincerely engage with us in the study of Scripture and pledge to follow the leading of the Spirit through the congregation. From the beginning denominational lines ceased to have meaning for us, although we never discussed the issue as such. To "belong" meant simply to actively participate in congregational life. (We might note that as soon as we were formed into an independent congregation we applied for dual membership in both MC and GC conferences.)

"Participation in congregational life" meant far more to us than attendance at Sunday morning group worship. Our Sunday "assembly" was the congregating of small groups, which we called "K groups" (K for koinonia), and membership included belonging to one of these groups. That, in fact, was how we got our name, "Assembly." We were an assembly of small ecclesial groups. One joined the assembly by becoming a member of a small group which in turn sponsored the individual for assembly membership. When people were drawn to our Sunday morning services, we encouraged them to take this route to full membership.

These K groups, or house churches, were the centers of accountability and discernment. The group studied Scripture together. It counseled and prayed together. Pastoral care began here in the face to face weekly meeting. Issues facing the larger group were carefully discussed with an attempt to arrive at small-group consensus. In this way Assembly business was first processed, and "representatives" from the groups reported group discussion and discernment to the larger assembly. Our deliberate choice of terms like "representatives," and "coordinators" for our congregational leaders, underscored the seriousness with which we took our egalitarian organization.

Exclusive or Inclusive Community?

We were keenly aware of the dangers and baneful effects of schism and splintering, and we were quite self-consciously aware of the potential for intensive small groups to splinter. While our protest inevitably implied criticism of traditional Protestant church patterns, our intent was not so much to withdraw and be a perfect congregation as to find ways in which we along with the wider church could more authentically confirm the life and ethic of the kingdom of God among us.

To this end we asked the College congregation, of which many of us were members, to commission us as a working experiment to explore new possible patterns of congregational life. And as soon as we were organized as an independent congregation, to our surprise and delight leaders of the Indiana-Michigan Conference invited us to formally join the Conference in such a capacity. (As I recall it, we chose Mary Ellen Meyer as our first congregational representative to conference.)

An almost reflexive impulse to splinter was inherent in our protest, and as I look back I am amazed and grateful for the patience shown on both sides. A number of the small groups that eventually consolidated to form the Assembly had formed out of disillusionment with the existing organizations and in protest to them. These groups thought of their life together as a substitute for the institutional church – a kind of "true church." Indeed, some of these groups quite openly thought of themselves as a prophetic witness to the church, a stance that was not greatly appreciated by the main body. They recognized their own leaders as prophetic authorities, and they held their own services of Bible study and worship.

Further, tendencies to exclusivism developed within some small groups as a result of intensive communal sharing. There was strong emphasis on personal disclosure and trust that required intimate exposure of oneself. Such relationships, which were considered the hallmark of the true church, could only be developed over time and demanded strict confidentiality. This raised the difficulty both of inducting new members into the group and of joining with other groups of similar character. It was in the context of these strains and stresses that the Assembly congregation was born, and we struggled to become a community of the Spirit at once committed to spiritual fervor and intimacy and at the same time open and accepting of any who might be attracted to us.

This attempt at what I may call evangelical openness involved us in a self-conscious attempt to avoid legalism and moralism. We wanted to allow those who were questing and questioning (doubting) the freedom to do so within the bounds of covenant. Indeed, we understood, as Paul Tillich had pointed out, that doubt is not to be equated with unbelief. Rather it is a vital aspect of faith. Thus we drew up a "covenant" of membership in terms of loyalty and the pledge to be faithful to the way of Jesus as it became manifest. The covenant affirmed recognition of Christ's lordship, a pledge of responsibility to each other as God's people, and commitment to help each other find and faithfully obey Christ's mandate.

We distinguished between this kind of pledge and what we called "understandings." The understandings spelled out the consensus which the congregation of small groups had arrived at thus far in its ongoing discussion. These understandings described clearly the perspectives and accumulated agreements of our group so that anyone interested in membership would have to take them seriously, but at the same time they were open to the continuing discernment of the group in
light of new perspectives brought to it by the new person.

The first listing of these understandings, interestingly enough, did not include a statement of our peace convictions. We concentrated on the nature of the group relationships and necessary commitments to group participation such as full attendance at small and large group meetings, willingness to receive counsel, maintaining a loving, open spirit toward those who were exploring our group life, and a commitment to faithful stewardship. This does not indicate that there was
any softness on the peace position. Rather that certain immediate concerns took precedence in the process of forming. Once these procedural matters were firmly in position, further ongoing issues could be considered. We took a clear and some would say radical position on the importance and implications of peacemaking "in all areas of life."

Church as Sacrament

We were fully convinced that the church itself as the body of Christ was to be the sacramental presence of Christ in the world. In the words of John's Gospel, congregations are branches sustained and nourished by the vine, and as such are part of the vine bearing fruit in the world. This defines both the congregation's life and mission.

The church does not find its sacramental reality in a ceremony, but rather celebrates its sacramental reality in ceremonial forms. The sacramental significance of the ceremony is determined by the reality of the Spirit in the everyday life of the congregation. That is why Paul warned the Corinthian Christians to be careful of the manner in which they proceeded to the communion table (1 Corinthians 11:27-32). The problem was not the profaning of a sacred ceremony, but of misrepresenting the true nature of Christ's sacramental presence in the world.

The congregation embodies the Spirit/spirit of Christ in its koinoniac existence. To speak of koinoniac existence locates the sacramental nature of the church in the character of its personal-social life in the world, i.e., in its koinoniac character. This koinonia means, first, participation in Christ who is "head of the church" and nourishes and nurtures its life together in the world (the spiritual reality). It also indicates participation of individuals in the community of believers (the social reality). Individuals share in and become part of the sacramental reality of Christ as they participate in the "fellowship of the Spirit." Thus the sacramental character of the church engages it in both the saving life and mission of Christ.

We attempted to portray this understanding of the nature of the church in our celebration of baptism and the Lord's supper. Our earliest baptismal service, which was held in the old College Cabin, engaged the congregation and the applicants in a liturgy of shared confession. The congregation first addressed the applicants: "We have pledged to renounce our sin of selfish ambition and to bind ourselves under the authority of Jesus Christ to live in His body and holy community, the Church, according to His rule and kingdom." The applicants were then asked to respond with a like pledge. Thereafter the congregation affirmed its confession of faith, and the applicants were asked whether they shared this faith and would pledge loyalty to Jesus Christ. Upon this confession they were baptized as a sign of God's pledge to forgive and accept them into the family of God, and were received as members of "the community of Christ's Holy Spirit."

We should pause to highlight the content of our confession of faith since it was not the traditional doctrinal statement. Our confession focused on God's action in our behalf through "His son, Jesus of Nazareth," and the nature of our response. (We were not yet so politically correct that we always had to avoid the masculine pronoun when speaking of God.) We confessed that in Jesus God had come to us in our likeness, suffering the bitterness of our rejection and the stigma of our sin in order to reconcile us, and had demonstrated divine power over sin and death by raising Jesus from the dead. We affirmed our confidence in the new possibility of life and freedom through the gift of the Spirit, and committed ourselves to live in the hope that God will fully establish the kingdom of peace and justice with Jesus Christ as Lord of lords and King of kings.

While the confession implied a high Christology it did not spell it out in terms of orthodoxy's philosophical dualism. The confession located the fundamental response as an existential commitment to Jesus, "the true and living way," rather than belief in the paradox of his deity and humanity. It affirmed hope and the new possibility of life in the Spirit as motivation for the Christian life in contrast to relief from guilt feelings and the fear of punishment. In this manner we attempted to define an experiential basis for a discipleship that was more than ethical response to theological belief. The motivation for following Christ lay in our conviction that he truly is God's Savior, and his Spirit/spirit in and through us is the dynamic possibility.

In our celebration of the Lord's supper we emphasized the eucharistic element. Our "communion" was a celebration of the new covenant given in Christ, a thanksgiving for the spiritual food which we received at the Lord's table. As such it implied the catholicity, i.e., unity, of the body of Christ. It was not so much a celebration of our exclusive existence as of our sharing in the universal reality of his body. We did not stress the renewal of our loyalty pledge so much as Christ's gift of himself to us. The blood was a symbol of Jesus' life given for us. The bread was a symbol of Christ's sharing of himself in and through the congregation. We shared the bread and cup with each other as an indication that we belonged to one family of God, and as a pledge of respect and family responsibility for each other.

The Congregation's Mission

One of our central, pervading concerns was to preserve the unity of life together in the congregation and the mission of the congregation in the larger society. We were not motivated by perfectionistic or sectarian goals. We sought to be a community of the Spirit in the midst of, not apart from, the larger society. In The Community of the Spirit, which I was writing at that time, I spoke of the church as in this sense a secular community, i.e., a very real aspect of the larger social phenomenon. In an early report from the Mission Task Force I defined the mission of the congregation to be the propagation of itself as a dynamic community of the Holy Spirit under the covenant of Jesus Christ. It was to be a social catalyst for the continual emergence of the power and authority of God in creating community. Today this is commonly spoken of as being an anticipatory community of the Kingdom of God.

To that end we recognized humanitarian service, evangelism and education as simply complementary components of the one mission. Although we recognized their distinctive functions, it was impossible to sharply divide and contrast their objectives. In the same report mentioned above I warned against the temptation of letting each of these roles become ends in themselves. Their common goal, I said, is the "new creation," the "new humanity," reconciliation and life in God's family under the new covenant. I pointed out that humanitarian service as an end had very largely resulted in creating dependency and consumerism. Evangelism as an end had largely resulted in individualistic religious experience which had little effect in advancing the new humanity. And education as an end had largely perpetuated the tradition, adjusting and adapting it to the changing social climate. What was needed was a witness which in itself demonstrated the power of the Spirit to keep a chain reaction going.

It was this theological motivation along with other practical concerns that led us to consider finding an off-campus site for our meetings. While we all agreed that students were an important focus of our mission, some of us were afraid that meeting on campus identified us too closely with institutionalized education. And since by this time we were large enough to require division, after much deliberation we decided to meet in two locations, one off and one on campus. Our off-campus "cluster" wrestled with the practicality and significance of a place that would give us a presence and identity in the city. For a while we used an empty dance hall and a funeral parlor for cluster meetings and the city park for "sabbatical" assembly meetings. Finally we located an old sewing factory on 11th Street which could be remodeled and used for both types of meetings as well as a center for community witness. It took us several years to discover how we could be more effective in reaching a totally unchurched population. (That is a story in itself.)

Worship in the Life of the Congregation

Lest anyone think that our congregational life was one of endless academic discussions about the nature of the church and constant business meetings, let me hasten to add that our community came to a full crescendo of praise and fellowship in the Sunday morning "service!" It was then that we celebrated who we were in the service of God, and it was a joyous time of heartfelt expression.

We observed that the New Testament word leiturgeo, usually translated worship, meant priestly service. In the Jewish tradition such service was usually associated with the temple celebrations as the priests ministered in behalf of the people. Their leiturgia (service) to God was expressed in their service to and for the congregation as they ministered in the temple. We as the new people of God and living stones in God's temple were simply adopting and expanding this concept of worship as we performed our priestly service to God with and for each other. I remember thinking and saying on occasion that the phrase "worship service" was really redundant! Our service of God with and for the community of God's people was our "worship," and the celebration on Sunday morning was simply part of that larger life of worship.

We were an assembly of "priests" meeting in God's presence to offer our service in honor of God's goodness and authority among us, i.e. "hallow God's name." It was our purpose to more fully understand and do God's will "on earth as it is in heaven." In this sense we understood worship as an act of Kingdom business, and we explicitly said that our congregational business meetings were no less worship than Sunday morning services of praise and exhortation.

This emphasis on leiturgia led us to stress the need for congruence of form and content in the service. In trying to explain this concern I once spoke of liturgy as the "complimentary choreography" of meaning and action. We spent a great deal of time and energy on the development of liturgy, however we tried to move away from liturgy as ceremonial programming. We were attempting to find effective patterns for genuine participation in the service. Thus we focused on functions in the service – singing/dancing, reading Scripture, reaching/teaching, giving, praying, testifying, and not to be omitted, silence. How does one choreograph this sequence so that the whole congregation is caught up in the dance?

While our services on Sunday morning were inspirational and deeply satisfying, the subjective inspiration of individuals was not our focus. Rather our focus was upon what God was doing in our lives as individuals and a congregation, and in the world. Our worship was our response to God's initiative. As Professor Paul Lehmann used to put it, we were "trying to discover what God was doing in the world, and then get on His bandwagon." We hoped for two outcomes of our worship: first, to discover our true identity as God's people, and second, to find enablement for authentic discipleship. We viewed reverence not as a pious mood but as obedient action!

Perhaps this observation is a good note upon which to close. Obedient action and authenticity were our watchwords. We took them very seriously. Indeed, sometimes we undoubtedly took ourselves too seriously! But in all our intensity we also had a theology of play! In our Metanoia small group we rather unpiously (not impiously) adapted the slogan, "The family that prays together stays together," to fit our group life and experience. We said, "The family that plays together stays together," and we found this to be literally true. Intense as they were, I remember even our worship times as re-creational play!