If You've Never Been to Anything Like This Before

Someone you trust invited you to a Christian festival at Gage Park. You said yes — maybe because you love them, maybe because it's free, maybe because some quiet part of you was curious. And now it's a few weeks out and you're wondering what exactly you agreed to.

This is written for you specifically. Not for the person who invited you. You.

What is actually going to happen

It's an outdoor festival in a public park. There's a stage with bands on it. There are food trucks. There are bouncy castles and lawn games and a spray pad, and a lot of kids running around with their faces painted. People bring lawn chairs and blankets and sit on the grass. Some of them will be worshipping with their hands in the air. Some will be eating tacos. Both of those are normal here.

Between the music, people get up and talk — usually for ten or fifteen minutes. Some of them will explain what Christians believe about Jesus. Some will tell you what happened in their own life. On Saturday there are baptisms, which mostly looks like people getting joyfully soaked while a crowd cheers.

You can look at the whole run of show if it helps to know. Some people find the unknown much worse than the plan.

What nobody is going to ask you to do

• Nobody will ask you for money. It's free. There's no ticket, no gate, no collection, no envelope. If someone tells you what it cost to put on, it's because they're grateful, not because they're hinting.
• Nobody will single you out. No spotlight, no stand-up-if-you're-new, no raise-your-hand-if-you're-visiting. You can arrive, sit down, and leave without speaking to anyone.
• Nobody needs you to perform. You don't have to sing. You don't have to close your eyes or lift your hands or say amen. Sitting quietly through a worship set is a completely normal thing to do and nobody is watching you.
• Nobody is going to corner you. If someone offers to pray for you and you'd rather they didn't, "no thanks" is a full sentence and it will be respected the first time.
• You can leave whenever you want. It's a public park. There's no exit interview.

The awkward part, named out loud

Here's the thing that's probably actually bothering you: you don't want to be the person who doesn't know the words. You don't want to be handled. You don't want somebody's project.

That's fair. Churches have earned some of that suspicion, and pretending otherwise would be insulting. So let me just say plainly: you are not a project. Your friend didn't invite you to close a deal. They invited you because something happened to them that they can't stop being glad about, and you're one of the people they'd most want to be there.

That's it. That's the whole motive.

What Jesus was actually like with outsiders

If your picture of Christianity is mostly rules and disapproval, it's worth knowing that the religious people of Jesus' own day complained about the exact opposite. Their objection was that he was too welcoming — that he kept eating dinner with the wrong people.

“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them."”

Luke 15:1–2

That was the accusation. He welcomes the wrong people and shares meals with them. He never denied it — he told three stories in a row about how much God enjoys finding someone who was lost.

So if you turn up at Gage Park half-sceptical, with questions you think are too rude to ask, eating a taco through the sermon — you are, historically speaking, exactly the demographic he went out of his way for.

Practical things that will make the day better

• Bring a chair or a blanket. The lawn fills from the front. This is the single most common regret.
• Come with your person. Arrive together, sit together. Having one familiar face changes everything about a new room — or a new field.
• Saturday is the easy way in. 10am to 7pm, families everywhere, food, games and a stage program from 11am. It's much less intense than Friday's worship night if intensity is what you're worried about.
• Eat something. Genuinely. Most "I feel weird here" is 30% social and 70% low blood sugar in the sun.
• Set your expectations at zero. You don't owe the day a decision, a feeling, or a conclusion. You're allowed to just be there.

The park map shows where the food, the washrooms, the shade and the exits are, and the FAQ answers the practical stuff. There's also a prayer tent, and the only thing you need to know about it is that you never have to go near it.

And if something does happen

Sometimes people come to a thing like this fully intending to stay on the edge, and something lands anyway. A line in a song. A stranger's story that sounds too much like their own. A sense — hard to describe later — of being known.

If that happens to you, you don't have to announce it or do anything about it in the moment. You can drive home and think about it for a month. But there's a page in this app that just quietly explains what it would mean and what you might do next, with no sign-up and no email and nobody following up: I said yes to Jesus.

And if nothing happens? You had a free day in a park with someone who loves you, and you ate well. That's not a wasted Saturday.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

Psalm 34:8

That's an invitation to try, not a demand to conclude. Come and see for yourself. September 4–5, Gage Park, Hamilton. Bring a chair.