The Beacon: Finding Authentic Spiritual Community Beyond the Church Walls

From Gas Station Fellowship to the Wooden Bench Revolution

Sometimes God speaks through childhood memories, revealing His eternal purposes in the most ordinary places. Today, He's calling seeking believers to rediscover what authentic spiritual community looks like—and why it might be found on wooden benches outside the church rather than in the pews inside.

The Wooden Bench Revelation

The Hub of the Universe

I can still see it clearly—that little Beacon gas station my dad and Uncle Frank co-owned in a small farming community of 400 souls in Northern California. From the 1960s through 1974, that humble service station was the undisputed hub of the universe for our corner of creation.

On cold mornings when "frost was on the pumpkins," the locals would gather around a small heater that looked like a World War II hand-me-down. During scorching summer heat, they'd cluster in front of a fan that could have been used for wind tunnel testing at some aerospace lab. There was always something to talk about—crop prices, weather patterns, politics, or the latest town gossip. Despite differences of opinion, they kept coming back, day after day. They became extended family and treated one another that way.

I remember one summer morning when Royce, one of the ancients in his 80s, was sitting on the wood bench on the side of the station. The bench was supported by two tree logs cut about four feet in length, and I always thought it was funny because Royce would sit there with his legs dangling—the bench was too high for his feet to touch the concrete. Suddenly, Jack pulls up in his black hearse and hollers out, "Hey, Royce, you wanna take a ride to the cemetery!?"

Royce responded by giving Jack the finger and went back to his nap in the sunshine.

That was family. Authentic, unfiltered, loving family.

Rediscovering True Spiritual Community

It didn't matter whether visitors were locals or travelers—all felt the genuine sense of community at that gas station. The Beacon light shone brightly from 7 AM to 10 PM, seven days a week, 364 days a year. They were closed only on Christmas. The spirit that ran through my dad and uncle was consistent: treat every customer as family, with respect and dignity.

It worked. Locals became like faithful congregants at church, except they came seven days a week! Others stopped weekly for gas as they commuted to other parts of the Sacramento Valley. Still others came monthly or annually on vacation—pilgrims on the road to Emmaus who had adventure stories to share with wide-eyed locals, but who missed out on the day-to-day life of a community that had its own pulse, its own lifeblood.

But all were one in connection and respect.

The Beacon offered full service—not just gas and oil checks, but genuine human connection. Windshields were cleaned, tires were checked, and hearts were heard. It was a place where you belonged, where your story mattered, where even cranky old men could flip each other off in love and still show up tomorrow.

The 70 MPH Spiritual Highway

Fast-forward to today's world, where cars flash by at 70 MPH and communities like that Beacon station are few and far between. Modern-day Royces and Jacks are seen as anachronistic, out of step with the hustle and bustle of contemporary society. We can no longer be "culturally insensitive" to the aged for fear we may offend them with our language.

But here's what's truly culturally insensitive—what's individually devastating: never having a close enough relationship with a brother or sister, regardless of age, who could take a comment in jest as it was intended. We've traded authentic relationship for sanitized distance.

Even in church, we tend to keep our distance from wandering sojourners who come in from the wilderness. "Who knows where they've been?" they whisper. "Are they really one of us, the chosen few, the elect? Or are they dead men and women walking? Should we call the hearse for them?"

And then, after the service ends, many get in their cars and travel at 70 MPH Monday through Saturday on the superhighway of contemporary culture, passing by those spiritual hitchhikers who find no place to rest their heads within the congregation.

What's been lost is connection with humanity. The ability to see beyond denominational frames of reference has vanished. Equally lost are those who've assumed a worldview that aligns more with the world than the Word, yet still call contemplatives and Christian mystics heretics.

Where's the love of Christ? Where's the stopping at life's rest stops to ask the essential question: "Does this pilgrim bear good fruit—the Fruit of the Spirit that is a supernatural gift from God for those who accept Jesus as Lord and Savior?"

God's Word is infallible: "You will know them by their fruit."

A Back-to-the-Future Moment

Perhaps the church, regardless of denomination, should become more than a Sunday morning rest stop. Perhaps the "church" should become a full-service reflection of Christ's love for His sheep, not the self-serve, have-it-your-way rendition of contemporary Christendom.

I don't mean to be critical, but if we don't acknowledge that many of the flock are leaving Sunday morning shepherds—and accept that many are leaving because they're on fire, not lukewarm, for Christ—then we'll continue to see an exodus of once-strong believers from local churches.

No longer can someone stick their head out the window and holler, "You weren't really saved anyway!" We need change—a back-to-the-future moment on God's prophetic calendar where we're known by our love, not our denominational titles.

We need to gather on the side of the road long enough to have authentic conversations about God and what it means to be uniquely Christian.

It's like an open martial arts tournament where the gis and suits are discarded, the belts and sashes tossed aside. When interaction begins, everyone knows who the black belts are and who the white belts are. All the colors in between find their own kind.

There's more respect and understanding between martial artists at those open tournaments than I see in contemporary Christian churches. Yes, all styles think theirs is supreme—if they didn't, why would they dedicate their lives to its study? But there's deep kinship when a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu stylist meets a Shotokan brother. There's a knowing that they're part of each other's extended family.

Perhaps God can use martial arts as a metaphor for the Christian extended family. Whether in a small gas station or a mixed martial arts tournament, God's love can bring His people together.

The Wooden Bench Revelation

I wonder if Jesus is calling His narrow path pilgrims and other Christ-centered seekers who feel alienated to meet Him at wooden benches outside the church? Like those who ascribe to the Fellowship of the Unashamed, He'll have no problem identifying us.

We won't each wear the same uniform, have the same hairstyle, or follow the same routine to express our faith. But He—and we—will recognize long-lost brothers and sisters whom we've never met but have known since the beginning of time.

Although we're family, we may disagree, squabble, and occasionally say something the sleepwalking masses would consider offensive. But not us. We'll just grin knowingly, flip the bird as a fun expression of relationship forged in fire, and move on with our God-given mission.

God's Beacon light may lead us to a physical wooden bench in some small farming community or a metal bench in a city park. The "wooden bench" may exist in a Zoom chat or a blog post thread. God isn't limited in how He brings His people together.

What's important is that we show up, look up, and stay in His flow.

When we gather—whether contemplative mystics, practical disciples, evangelical hearts, or prophetic voices—let's be honest about our respective walks with Christ and our common ground as ambassadors of Christ who are all in.

However, like white belt martial artists, not all are as far along the sanctification path as others. Let's show each pilgrim the same love and respect that God expects from His black belts. There's no value judgment here, no "I'm superior because I've walked through more furnaces and don't smell like smoke."

No! The black belt pilgrims will serve the white belt pilgrims and help them discover what God has called them to become based on their unique abilities. We each have strengths and gifts—we're here to help you discover yours.

The Letter in the Bottle

You may be wondering if this wooden bench community of spiritual seekers is right for you. I can't answer that question. Like a "Letter to God" message in a bottle, I just write what's in my heart, place it in the bottle, seal it with love, and throw it overboard into the sea of cyberspace.

From there, it's in God's hands to let it ride the waves of the Internet ocean until it finds the home it was intended for. The Spirit within you will confirm or deny your inclusion in this collection of narrow path pilgrims.

I can say this: if you're still reading this post, you just might be seeing the beacon, reading the letter in the bottle that God wants you to read. Now it's simply your free will choice whether you'll show up, look up, and stay in the flow.

You'll recognize us as different from religious performers. We can be at home in most Bible-believing churches, attending and getting along with the congregation. But whether a brother or sister in Christ is a regular Sunday attendee or a traveling pilgrim somewhere between here and Emmaus, you'll recognize them as authentic spiritual extended family.

When we meet, it will be like a family reunion where we open the spiritual photo album, laugh, cry, and celebrate moments that are Divine Appointments and Divine Interventions.

The Crossroads Choice

So here we are at the crossroads rest stop, sitting on a weathered wooden bench with our feet dangling in the air. But unlike the story of Robert Johnson at the crossroads selling his soul to the devil in exchange for fame and fortune, we're at a crossroads where we have a decision to make for eternal life.

If you choose to join our family of narrow path pilgrims, we—and hopefully the angels in heaven—will shout for joy! Welcome home, pilgrim.

If not, like the old Motel 6 slogan, we'll keep the light on for you.

In the meantime, be blessed and enjoy the journey.

The Beacon light is shining. Your wooden bench is waiting. And Jesus is ready to meet you there, outside the walls where authentic spiritual family gathers.

Ready to find your place in the Fellowship of the Unashamed?

--- *Trace Pirtle is a retired university professor, pilgrim blogger, and founder of Faith in Action Ministry, Texas Hill Country. He writes for Christians who refuse to settle for Sunday morning faith while prayer-walking the narrow path in Kerrville, Texas. Welcome home, pilgrim.