Inside the church
Some people call it “The Barn.” Some call it “The Compound.” Whatever its moniker, Robinson’s home isn’t the creepy, Waco-esque compound many outsiders imagine.
Jason Robinson holds services at his house regularly for prayer and song as part of the Church at Kent.
The large farm house, sitting just feet from a main road, glows warm and welcoming on Wednesday evenings when church members gather to worship. A large privacy fence encloses the backyard, giving visitors parking space and a feeling of seclusion.
Inside the large house, men in boots and flannel shirts talk among themselves, while women in ankle-length dresses knit and chase after the many children.
Robinson, a father of two who sells cars on eBay to make his living, is sitting at his computer watching a video of a street preacher arrested in Philadelphia for evangelizing at a gay rights rally. “The chief of police was a homosexual,” Robinson says matter-of-factly.
Robinson, who grew up in Tallmadge and attended Kent State, started the church in August 2001 with Zac Poonen, an evangelist from Bangalore, India, who is a “spiritual adviser” for more than 40 churches worldwide. The Church at Kent now has more than 60 members.
As attendees of the weekly study group gather in the living room and sing hymns without musical accompaniment, the small, informal service seems reminiscent of most non-denominational Christian services. However, a closer look at the Church at Kent reveals that it is not like most other churches.
Unlike many modern churches, there is no “age-segregated worship.” No Sunday school for kids, youth Bible study or adult worship time. Services and group studies are attended by the entire family, and sometimes 3- and 4-year-old children sit for up to four hours, listening quietly and stirring only for potty breaks.
The church is adamantly against being associated with any denomination, religious sect or any other group, including the government.
“We are independent from the bondage of any religious system,” the church’s doctrinal statement reads. It also states that the church is not associated with the state. The church has not registered for the tax-exempt status most other churches have.
Robinson has inspirational cards sitting throughout his house for his congregation.
(Larger?)
The women of the church dress modestly, so modestly that their garb is reminiscent of that worn by women in the Amish community. That is not surprising because many of the families in the church are excommunicates from Amish churches around the country.
Phillip Yutzy moved to Kent from Middlefield, Ohio, a few months ago. Yutzy, his wife, Martha, and their four children were excommunicated from the Amish church there after they left the community to become members of the Church at Kent, where Yutzy’s brother was already a member.
“(The Church at Kent) was really the only place we knew to go after we left the Amish church,” he says.
Yutzy, who was a deacon at his former church in Middlefield, left the Amish church shortly before members were to take communion, which is given every six months in the Amish community. “In the Amish church, to take communion you have to believe everything the Amish church stands for, and if you don’t believe everything they stand for, you can’t take communion,” he says. “There was no way I could go through it again.”
Yutzy says his father sent him a letter after he left saying that until he “repented of his evil ways,” he wasn’t welcome to come home.
“I left the Amish community, but I’ve got a new family now,” Yutzy says.
The Burr is produced by students at Kent State University twice per academic year.No part of The Burr may be reprinted without permission.