Keep the lamps lit.

Welcome

A wide table, a quiet room, a long obedience.

We gathered first at dusk after work, in a warehouse that still smelled like rain. The name stuck: service — evening prayer. Twelve years later we are still a people who light lamps at the end of the day and refuse to pretend we have it together.

If you have not been in a church for a decade, if you never left, if you are only curious whether God is kind — there is a seat. We will not make you raise a hand.