Reflecting on my early days as a believer in the 1990s, I remember what I’d call my “heyday” of being deeply connected to my local evangelical church, which had a Pentecostal church structure.
By Dr. Tim Orr
Reflecting on my early days as a believer in the 1990s, I remember what I’d call my “heyday” of being deeply connected to my local evangelical church, which had a Pentecostal church structure. We met often—Sunday morning, Sunday night, and again on Wednesday evenings. It felt like church was the center of my life, not something squeezed in between other commitments. I once heard someone joke that the ones who attend Sunday morning love the church, those who come Sunday night love the pastor, and those who show up Wednesday night love the Lord. It was said half in jest, but it captured a real truth: people who spent more time together in church were often the ones most deeply connected to Christ—and to one another. While that may not hold as broadly today, I believe the principle still applies. Deep spiritual connection is often forged through shared time, worship, and life—something I’ve come to value even more in recent years.
Those midweek gatherings weren’t just rituals. They were the lifeblood of the community. Sitting in folding chairs, we shared meals, prayers, burdens, and joy. We knew each other’s struggles. We celebrated each other’s victories. That regular rhythm of fellowship helped shape my faith and gave me a sense of belonging that I didn’t even know I needed. Acts 2:46–47 comes to mind: "Every day they continued to meet in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate with glad and sincere hearts, praising God… And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved." That was the heartbeat of our community back then.
But then, something started to shift. In the early 2000s, Sunday evening services began to disappear. Soon after, Wednesday nights faded, replaced by small groups. Now, don’t get me wrong—there’s nothing wrong with small groups. They can be powerful spaces of growth and healing. But I noticed something: while small groups made room for intimate relationships, they also narrowed the circle. I was connected to five or six people instead of a whole congregation. The broader community began to fragment.
Fast-forward to about 18 months ago. Faith and I found ourselves in a tough season—one where parts of our lives had been painfully severed. We were weary. We needed the body of Christ to supply what was lacking, to restore what had been lost. A friend recommended First Christian Church in Columbus, Indiana, and after visiting once, we sensed this was a place where we could heal and belong. That’s when we started attending First Christian Church in Columbus, Indiana.
From day one, it was different. Not in a flashy or program-driven way—but in a deeply relational, multigenerational way. I attend Sunday morning worship, but I also attend the Sunday School class beforehand, which allows me to connect more deeply with a smaller group of people while still feeling part of the larger body. I hear solid biblical teaching from our pastor, who typically teaches with an approach that blends theological depth with practical application. On Wednesday nights, I attend the adult class where the pastor continues this teaching, while Faith attends the youth group. Families gather, children laugh, and the building hums with life—conversation, worship, and prayer flowing naturally as people linger to connect. There's a deep sense that no one is in a rush, and that kind of atmosphere creates space for real relationships to grow.
And Tuesday night—well, Tuesday night has become something special. Every week, about 50 men come together for discipleship. There’s something powerful about walking into a room full of men, all hungry for God, all wrestling with what it means to be a follower of Christ, a father, a husband, or a friend. Another highlight of my week is our men’s breakfast. I meet regularly with a group of older guys, men who are further down the road in life and faith. These brothers have become dear to me. We share stories over coffee and eggs, offer encouragement, and speak truth into each other’s lives. I’ve grown to love and respect them deeply. They bring wisdom and perspective, and I bring a listening ear and a desire to learn. It reminds me of the spirit of Titus 2, where older men are called to mentor younger ones in sound faith and godly living. In a world that often separates generations, this space draws them together in a way that reflects the beauty of biblical discipleship.
I’ve realized the difference is simple but profound: time spent together leads to connection. Relationships don’t grow out of convenience—they grow out of commitment. The more time I spend with these men—on Tuesday night, Sunday morning, or over breakfast—the more I see Christ shaping us as a community. Proverbs 27:17 says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.” That doesn’t happen in a rush. It takes showing up, week after week, and letting others into your life.
I’m reminded of a moment a few months ago when a man in our Tuesday night group shared that he’d never had older men speak into his life before. He choked up and thanked us for walking him through the hard things. In that moment, I thought back to when I was a younger man, struggling with identity and belonging. The older men in church affirmed me and saw me not just as a project but as a brother. And now, I get to pass that on.
First Christian Church isn’t different because of its music or programs—it’s different because of its people. The music is a thoughtful blend of traditional hymns and contemporary worship, and the programs are solid and well-organized, but the depth of relationships truly sets the church apart for me. It’s a place where the body of Christ truly functions as a body, where when one part suffers, every part suffers with it, and when one part is honored, every part rejoices (1 Cor. 12:26). It’s not perfect, but it’s present. And sometimes, that’s exactly what people need.
So if you’re feeling disconnected or longing for something more than just a Sunday morning service, maybe what you need isn’t a new program or a new church—it might just be more time with the people God’s already placed around you because that’s where connection happens. That’s where healing begins. And that’s where the Church becomes more than a building—it becomes a family.
Tim serves full-time with Crescent Project as the assistant director of the internship program and area coordinator, where he is also deeply involved in outreach across the UK. A scholar of Islam, Evangelical minister, conference speaker, and interfaith consultant, Tim brings over 30 years of experience in cross-cultural ministry. He holds six academic degrees, including a Doctor of Ministry from Liberty University and a Master’s in Islamic Studies from the Islamic College in London.
In addition to his ministry work, Tim is a research associate with the Congregations and Polarization Project at the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture at Indiana University Indianapolis. His research interests include Islamic antisemitism, American Evangelicalism, and Islamic feminism. He has spoken at leading universities and mosques throughout the UK—including Oxford University, Imperial College London, and the University of Tehran—and has published widely in peer-reviewed Islamic academic journals. Tim is also the author of four books.