Church without a postcode

When I wrote about revival stirring in Sheffield, I felt that prickling sense of hope—the kind that whispers of God’s imminent move.

But as our church family (along with all the churches in the UK) dreams of revival, we face an apparent paradox. Unlike the Toronto Airport Christian Fellowship’s 1994 outpouring that touched the world, we don’t have a building to call our own. Instead, our growing congregation gathers in a very nice, warm  hired school hall each Sunday, setting up and tearing down with clockwork precision. Some might see this as a limitation, but what if it’s actually divine timing?

History offers us a compelling perspective. The early church, which turned its world upside down, owned no property. They gathered wherever they could—in homes, marketplaces, and borrowed spaces. As Acts 2:46-47 tells us, “Day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favour with all the people.” Their power lay not in properties but in their unity and purpose. We want what the early church had—“Silver and gold we do not have, but what we do have… ah! there’s the rub—we give unto you—’rise up and walk!’” Not much “stuff” but plenty of power, signs, wonders, healings, and miracles! What’s not to like?

This illuminates an eternal truth: the church isn’t confined to architecture but lives in its people. Jesus’s promise that “where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them” (Matthew 18:20) wasn’t contingent on property. While we may lack a mortgage, we’re rich in what matters most—ministry, outreach, and discipleship.

Meeting in a school has become our strategic advantage. We’re positioned at the heart of community life, where families naturally gather, and where those who might never enter a traditional church building are welcome to feel at home. Our location isn’t just convenient; it’s providential—a front-row seat to where lives are being shaped and destinies forged.

The circumstance we find ourselves in has pushed us toward a more dynamic expression of community. Home gatherings for discipleship and Bible study aren’t peripheral; they’re central to our DNA. Following the pattern in Acts 5:42, “Every day, in the temple and from house to house, they did not cease teaching and preaching that the Christ is Jesus.” These intimate settings—often around shared meals, curry, pizza, snacks, and honest conversations—forge deeper connections than Sunday services alone ever could.

Our rented hall serves as a powerful reminder: we can’t rely on impressive facilities or elaborate programs. We have something far more compelling—God’s manifest presence. As Zechariah 4:6 declares, “‘Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit,’ says the Lord of hosts.”

History affirms this audacious truth. The Welsh Revival of 1904 swept powerfully through modest chapels and homes. In America, the Azusa Street Revival of 1906 began in a simple mission building. God consistently chooses “what is foolish in the world to shame the wise… so that no human being might boast in the presence of God” (1 Corinthians 1:27-29), and just so we know it’s not about larger-than-life characters as well as grand buildings, His power shines brightest through unexpected vessels.

Oh my! Weekly setup demands effort—my step counter regularly hits 8,000 by the time I arrive home at lunchtime! Finding midweek meeting spaces requires creativity compared to churches with a building, but these “inconveniences” foster ownership and strengthen community bonds. There’s something beautifully unifying on Sunday about setting up chairs together or troubleshooting sound equipment as a team.

Our situation keeps us nimble and expectant: “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19). We’ve learned to leverage tools like Zoom and social media to extend our reach beyond physical limitations, much as Paul used letters to nurture far-flung communities.

The profound truth remains stark: revival doesn’t require a building—it requires yielded hearts. If you’re in a similar situation, embrace this season. Open your homes, engage your community, and pray with expectation, fully aware that God’s power isn’t limited by our circumstances; often, He works most powerfully through them.

If you are in a building-less church like us, I encourage you to make the most of this season. Let’s gather where we can, open our homes, and step into our community with hearts ablaze, praying with expectation, confident that God hears and responds, unhampered by our limitations.

The early church turned the world upside down without buildings because they had each other, the Holy Spirit, and a fantastic good-news message worth sharing.

They throw down a gauntlet to us to follow their lead, believing that revival can and will spark here in Sheffield—not because of where we meet, but because of whom we serve.