Hops and Hallelujah

Finding Jesus (and Myself) at a Brewery

I have a confession. A confession so shocking, so revolutionary, so utterly…me, that it might just redefine your very understanding of spiritual enlightenment. I met Jesus…at a brewery.

Yes, you read that right. Not in some oak-paneled cathedral, not during a stuffy sermon delivered by a man who looked like he hadn't cracked a smile since the Eisenhower administration, but amidst the hoppy aromas and the clinking of pint glasses. And you know what? It was surprisingly…refreshing.

Let's be honest, the traditional church model is about as relevant to the younger generation as dial-up internet. You've got these ornate buildings that feel more like museums than community centers, sermons that sound like they were written in the Dark Ages, and a general vibe that screams, "Leave your doubts at the door!" And that's precisely the problem, isn't it? Young adults these days are drowning in doubts. They are bombarded with information, exposed to a dizzying array of perspectives, and encouraged to question everything. So, when a church shies away from tough questions or pretends that social media doesn't exist, it's basically writing its own obituary.

Let me set the scene. I've never really "got" the whole church thing. Don't get me wrong, I'm not some heathen, actively plotting the downfall of organized religion. It's just that…well, it never felt relevant. Like trying to force a square peg into a round hole, except the peg is my modern, slightly cynical, definitely-needs-caffeine-to-function self, and the hole is a centuries-old institution clinging desperately to tradition.

Seriously, why does going to church mean you have to go to a church? Isn't the whole point of faith about, you know, connection and community? Last time I checked, Jesus didn't confine his sermons to stained-glass sanctuaries. No, he was out there, walking among the people, preaching on hillsides, and generally being…accessible. So, tell me again why people are supposed to squeeze into a pew and listen to someone drone on about things that seemingly have nothing to do with their overflowing student debt, questionable life choices, and constant existential dread?

It’s not that I'm against spirituality, it's that I'm against the perception that you need to look, act, and conform to a structure in order to have it. I mean, if my hair isn’t perfect, I am considered a mess to the church members.

And then there's the whole generational gap thing. Churches seem to be completely baffled by the fact that young adults – you know, the future of their congregation – are fleeing faster than you can say "thou shalt not." They’re scratching their heads and muttering about rebellious youth, while completely missing the fact that their message just isn't resonating. Honestly, it's no wonder young people are leaving the church in droves. Studies show that a ridiculous percentage, like 66% according to some Lifeway Research study, of church-going teens ditch the pews as young adults. They go off to college, get exposed to different viewpoints, discover the internet (a Pandora's Box of theological debates), and suddenly those childhood Sunday school lessons start to feel... flimsy.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard churches say, “We need to adapt to keep the youth engaged!” And every time I go back, it’s the same old stuff! It's like they’re speaking a different language. We're talking about social justice, mental health, technology, and the complexities of a rapidly changing world, and they're still stuck on fire and brimstone sermons and potlucks featuring Jell-O molds from 1952. No offense to Jell-O, of course.

And don't even get me started on the whole "no questioning" policy some churches seem to enforce. Seriously? In the age of information, where we have access to more viewpoints and critiques than ever before, you want me to just blindly accept everything you say without asking questions? That's not faith; that's blind obedience, and frankly, it's insulting.

For me, that’s the problem with the church now.

Enter: The Church for the Rest of Us. A name so audacious, so unapologetically honest, that I had to investigate. A church…for people who don't like church? And they offer you beer? Color me intrigued.

I found this ministry online and it was in Cape Coral, Florida. And boy, was I fascinated!

They even buy beer for any newcomers! I wanted to know more!

The premise is simple: a spiritual community that understands the disconnect many people feel with traditional religion. It's a place where you can bring your doubts, your questions, your messy, imperfect self, and explore faith in a relaxed, judgment-free environment. And the beer? Well, that's just a bonus.

I mean, let's be real, who hasn't pondered the meaning of life over a cold one? It fosters conversation, relaxes the nerves, and generally makes the whole "pondering existential questions" thing a little less daunting. It beats the heck out of being in a church suit!

What I found most appealing about The Church for the Rest of Us is their transparency. They acknowledge the negative connotations that many people associate with Christianity – the "boring," "judgmental," "religious," and "too political" labels – and they actively try to dismantle them. They understand that Christians have, shall we say, "screwed up" the message of Jesus, and they're trying to reclaim it. One pint at a time.

They appear to understand that the word "Christian" often conjures up images of judgmental busybodies, politically charged firebrands, and people who think fun is a four-letter word. But they also get that many people are genuinely searching for something more, a spiritual dimension to life, a connection to something bigger than themselves. They just don't necessarily want to find it in a building with stained glass and uncomfortable seating.

Imagine coming in and seeing everyone wearing what they are instead of suits!

And the best part? They don't care if you don't believe in God. Seriously. They welcome skeptics, agnostics, and anyone who's even remotely curious about exploring faith. They get that it's a journey, not a destination, and they're happy to walk alongside you, even if you're stumbling a bit along the way.

So, I decided to attend. And I'll admit, I was nervous. I pictured myself walking into a room full of overly enthusiastic, holier-than-thou religious culty types who would immediately sense my lack of devoutness and cast me out. But that's not what happened. Instead, I was greeted with warm smiles, and a cold beer. The atmosphere was relaxed, informal, and surprisingly…normal.

The "sermon" was more like a casual discussion, led by a minister who was less concerned with lecturing and more interested in engaging with the audience. He was charismatic, relatable, and, dare I say, kind of cool. He addressed complex theological concepts with humor and honesty, and he didn't appear to shy away from difficult questions.

And then came the moment that truly sealed the deal for me and made me chuckle. He was explaining a passage from Luke, the one about the women finding the empty tomb. But instead of delivering some dry, academic interpretation, he paraphrased it in a way that resonated with me.

"So basically," he said, "they were like, 'Yo, this dude called the Son of Man gotta get handed over to these sinful dudes, right? And then they gonna straight up crucify him, like no joke. But check it, on the third day, homie gonna rise again. Straight outta the depths. It's gonna be epic.'"

Okay, maybe that's not a verbatim quote, but you get the gist. He made it relatable, understandable, and even…entertaining. My head was exploding. Huh? I never heard this stuff before. In that moment, something clicked. I realized that faith doesn't have to be stuffy, irrelevant, or exclusive. It can be accessible, engaging, and even – gasp – fun.

And that’s when I found Jesus. Not in some divine revelation, but in a community of people who were willing to meet me where I was, doubts and all, and share their faith in a way that actually made sense.

The Church for the Rest of Us is onto something. They're tapping into a deep-seated need for connection, community, and spiritual exploration that traditional churches are failing to address. They're thinking outside the box, challenging conventions, and, yes, even serving beer.

And you know what? It appears to be working.

I'm not saying that everyone needs to find Jesus at a brewery. But I am saying that maybe it's time for churches to rethink their approach, to embrace innovation, and to start speaking the language of the people they're trying to reach. Because if a church in a brewery can help someone find faith, imagine what a church that actually connects with its community could do.

So, you are probably wondering… what is it like getting drunk with Jesus? I'm waiting for my divine invite for that one. I would imagine you never have to worry about hangovers, probably turns water into coffee the next morning. You’ll probably never run out of drinks because he’s got a miracle for that. Heck, I would imagine Jesus would just be with us for the “spirit” of the moment. On that note, I think it's time for another pint. You never know when enlightenment might strike.