Measurements of a Holy City

By Brandon Morgan

Then one of the seven angels who had the seven bowls filled with the seven last plagues came to me and talked with me, saying, “Come, I will show you the bride, the Lamb’s wife.” And he carried me away in the Spirit to a great and high mountain, and showed me the great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of God… And he who talked with me had a gold reed to measure the city, its gates, and its wall. The city is laid out as a square; its length is as great as its breadth. And he measured the city with the reed: twelve thousand furlongs. Its length, breadth, and height are equal. Then he measured its wall: one hundred and forty-four cubits, according to the measure of a man, that is, of an angel. - (Revelation 21:9-11, 15-17 NKJV)

We drew near to our destination as I mentally flipped through the itinerary for the weekend. Dinner and fellowship with the youth group Friday. Then the “Understanding to Compassion” workshop on Saturday–the reason we were there. The workshop’s purpose: to help build bridges in communication between youth staff and youth as well as parents and children.

The church was a smaller building than I expected, reminding me of the Baptist services my grandmother attended. My colleague and I entered a dining area, where we were immediately swept into conversation with youth staff and the youth themselves. To be honest, even though we had spent five hours on the road, I was in my element. As a former youth worker, it felt great to be able to hear from the youth and connect with the staff. After a meal of pizza, salad, and snacks, we were briefly taken around the church for a tour. “There’s no way this is all the same building,” I thought to myself, as I made an offhand Willy Wonka factory reference aloud. Where was all of this from the outside? A large dining area, two congregational areas, a dedicated AV room, baptismal chamber, countless classrooms, and a basketball court. (Yes, a basketball court.) Aside from my childlike urge to jump to touch one of the rims, I was overtaken by a sense of mystery. How does this work? How do you fit all of this under one roof? My thoughts were cut short. We were being ushered into the multipurpose room for worship with the youth group.

Two youth and a staff member led the youth group in worship. I sang along to the songs and looked around the room, where I saw youth grinning at one another and chatting with one another with hands in pockets. I guess youth will be youth, I thought to myself. But during the second song, I couldn’t deny, I heard a swell of voices that felt the closest to Jesus’ goal of oneness that I experienced in a long time. After the second song, the staff alighted from the stage, and explained how the high school seniors wanted to share their testimonies from the year. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was incredible. I was struck by the wisdom, vulnerability, and frankly the emotional intelligence these young people had to share with their peers. And it made me reflect on the purpose of the training I would be facilitating the next day. If youth are this willing to share aloud amongst strangers, what kind of environment is present in their homes, and why might parents want to grow in their listening skills if they have such mindful and sensitive children?

The testimony service contributed to my reticence about presenting this information to parents. I expected reluctance in terms of hearing and practicing the content. Oddly, when I heard there were going to be so many parents in the training, a part of me got a little angry. As silly as it sounds, my thoughts were: “How dare these parents encroach upon this space?” and “They’re just going to use the content to try to tell their kids what to do.” Perhaps it was my professional background or my own broken experiences with my parents that contributed to the judgment, but regardless, this would be a lens soon to be shattered.

Saturday arrived, and less than 15 minutes into our training, the parents immediately immersed themselves with the concepts of openness, asking questions, and engaging with empathetic practices. Parents leaned into the content and the activities and practiced the techniques we went through, asking questions about things they weren’t sure about. At least conceptually, both the youth and their parents were on the same page, regarding practicing the tools. By the end, smiles rested upon everyone’s faces, as a new journey of curiosity was embarked upon.

In my debrief with my colleagues, someone surfaced what I had been thinking all weekend: “The parents were far more receptive to the training than I thought.”

I listened and nodded slowly with a raised eyebrow. And the Holy Spirit brought back to my remembrance, our approach to the church, and my judgment of its size from the outside. I felt as though God was telling me, “Just as though there is more to this church than meets the eye, there is more to My Church than meets the eye.” I had judgments upon people I had never met, and they had larger hearts than my misguided perceptions could have comprehended.

When I began to write this article, it was going to be more of a report on the content of the workshop. (If you’re interested in communication workshops like “Understanding to Compassion” I’d highly recommend you check out https://www.projectarctos.com/workshops-list/). But I think there’s something that can be extracted from this experience.

Sometimes, we fail to see unity in the church, not because of what people do (that’s surely present), but the story we paint of them before we get to know them. Almost a “guilty before proven innocent” paradigm. But, before we go into “judgment mode,” we have a choice. We can carry our cloudy lens and make mental accusations or we can enter into “curiosity mode” and ask questions to build understanding, empathy, and compassion. 

Let’s go back up to that Scripture in Revelation. When I was younger, I always found it strange that the New Jerusalem was depicted in something measurable. I used to think: “How are saints from all generations going to fit in this finite (and all not that big) city?” Perhaps, I’ve been looking at it all wrong these years. It’s not necessarily about the dimensions, but the content within. And if the “content” understands how to become one, then there’s plenty of space.

Brandon Morgan is currently a leadership facilitator, researcher, and consultant in Boston, MA. He is passionate about oneness in the Church. When Brandon isn’t working, he can be found: rock climbing, reading, writing, spending time with those he loves, and playing solitaire with real cards (yeah, really).