Picture a group of immigrants and students gathered in a warm church room, sipping tea and stumbling through English conversations. This is the ministry of 2:19 Teach to Reach, a conversational English program that’s so much more than language lessons. Using proverbs from around the world, volunteers support language learners and spark conversations about life’s deepest questions related to family, purpose, and what gives life meaning.

The room, filled with the usual nervous chatter that comes when groups of strangers gather, became a different kind of space: a magnetic space, an oasis in a world that felt like it was pulling us all apart. Magnetic spaces are environments that can promote civility and also the gospel of Jesus Christ. In our fractured, angry times, we desperately need places like this in order to catch our breath and find our way.

Civility Crisis

Let’s state the obvious: Our cultural moment feels uniquely broken. Whether it’s political infighting, endless protests, or the pandemic’s lingering scars, incivility seems to be everywhere. Compounded by the ways online life divides us (I’ve seen the terms “cyberbalkanization” and “splinternet” thrown around), our posture toward one another is less open and more defensive.

A 2022 U.S. study with 7,000 participants dug into how COVID-19 messed with our personalities. The study focused on the “Big Five” personality traits: extraversion versus introversion, agreeableness versus antagonism, conscientiousness versus lack of direction, neuroticism versus emotional stability, and openness versus closedness to experience. The findings are sobering. We’re less kind and empathetic, more closed off to new ideas, pulling away from people, and struggling to stay motivated for our goals. In other words, we’re becoming less good at being with each other.

Inside the church and out, we’re talking past each other, slapping labels on folks we disagree with, and caricaturing their views. We’re all feeling the squeeze—squeezed for the time it takes to have a real conversation and squeezed out of the healthy spaces where those conversations used to happen. We’re afraid of being misunderstood or “canceled,” and that fear just makes things worse. This hostile climate affects our bodies, our minds, and our relationships.

We all yearn for a comeback of basic civility, but here’s the thing—it’s not enough on its own. We need Jesus at the center, the One who mends what’s broken deep down. That’s where magnetic spaces fit in beautifully. They ease the immediate squeeze on our time by creating room for honest, kind conversations. At the same time, magnetic spaces open doors to lasting hope by pointing us toward the gospel.

Forecourts to Porches

In one of his last articles, “Lemonade on the Porch,” pastor and theologian Tim Keller suggested that Western culture can no longer be seen as a “forecourt” where we can naturally introduce the Christian faith.

Magnetic spaces open doors to lasting hope by pointing us toward the gospel.

Instead, he argued that churches need to build a new kind of front porch. These are low-pressure spaces where we “can serve lemonade to outsiders who are not yet ready to come all the way into the ‘house,’ but where they can be prepared to do so.” They’re places where people can connect without feeling like a project.

Keller draws on my own work concerning subversive fulfillment––a way of engaging with culture––which he states will be one of the main marks of an effective church porch:

In a nutshell it means that there must be a balance of criticism and clear confrontation of unbelief (“subversive”) along with a great deal of respect and appreciation for the good values, commitments, and aspirations of the non-believers (“fulfilment”). . . . “Subversive fulfillment” avoids the twin errors of either syncretism or irrelevance. Sin must not only be denounced in general, but in the particular idolatrous forms found in the culture. Salvation must not only be declared in general, but as fulfilling the very hopes that the culture wrongly puts in its idols.

Magnetic spaces would provide temporary relief from the storms of life, a place to reflect on the presenting issues of our time. Such spaces would be akin to ancient hospiciums that, before the 19th century, were rest houses for travelers rather than places to care for the dying.

Magnetic Points

The spaces each church builds will look different, but they’ll share the same solid frame: the “magnetic points” of J. H. Bavinck. This was Bavinck’s way of describing a universal longing every human being has.

I’ve popularized his ideas in my book Making Faith Magnetic, which begins with Bavinck’s understanding of the Bible’s view of humanity. Bavinck argued that all human beings have, because of the fall, an impaired religious consciousness. Men and women are image-bearers who suppress the truth and turn to idols (Rom. 1:18). Bavinck says we all know and don’t know God; we’re all running to God and running away from him.

Bavinck then suggests five magnetic points that all of us are drawn to:

• Totality: Is there a way to connect? We all want to feel connected to something bigger than ourselves.
• Norms: Is there a way to live? We all look for rules and standards to live by.
• Deliverance: Is there a way out? We all want an escape from the brokenness of this world.
• Destiny: Is there a way we control? We all wonder if we have a purpose and if we’re in control of our lives.
• Higher Power: Is there a way beyond? We all wonder if there’s something more out there.

We try to answer these questions on our own, seeking fulfillment in our careers, relationships, or hobbies, but only Jesus fully subverts and fulfills them.

Magnetic Spaces

I love how adaptable Bavinck’s points are—I’ve shared them globally, and the ideas just pour in. Imagine a parenting class digging into norms and destiny with a mix of proverbs and Scripture, or a mental health circle tackling deliverance from inner turmoil with stories of Jesus’s hope. Toddler groups could touch on totality, that universal hunger for belonging. Book clubs or movie nights? Perfect for wrestling with higher power, sifting cultural idols with grace and grit.

The most developed magnetic space I’ve seen has been by the 2:19 Teach to Reach ministry, which I described above. They produced a resource called Utter Wisdom, based around 60 proverbs from different languages and cultures. Volunteers facilitate short English language activities and lead discussions aimed at how the themes in those proverbs help us consider life’s deepest questions. Each theme (time, success and failure, animals, pain and suffering) is based around the “magnetic points.” And each lesson ends with a short study where learners can see how these deep themes connect with and are confronted by Jesus the “I am.”

Bavinck says we all know and don’t know God; we’re all running to God and running away from him.

Ministries like this aren’t wild innovations—lots of churches already do similar work. The goal isn’t to reinvent the wheel but to give these initiatives a way to thoughtfully navigate between meeting people’s practical needs and sharing the life-changing truth of the gospel. When we help people think about life through the magnetic points, they uncover their own ultimate heart commitments, which the Bible calls idolatry.

Magnetic spaces help people stop and think about the objects of their worship. We hope and pray that by God’s Spirit they begin to see the futility of idols and the beauty of a life built on Christ, the only higher power who gives us totality, norm, deliverance, and destiny in him.

Magnetic Person

One can imagine other magnetic spaces being designed and built on this “magnetic points” frame: parenting classes, toddler groups, mental health and grief support groups, book clubs, film clubs, student campus groups, current affairs discussion groups.

These would foster and promote civility among God’s image-bearers. We’d love all citizens in our hostile and fractious culture, both Christian and non-Christian, to cultivate civility that improves self-understanding, awareness, and listening to the other. Through conversation, we create space for conversion. These magnetic spaces are an entry point to Christ’s family.

Such spaces can be both “church gathered” (like our Sunday services, which are still the ultimate magnetic space) and “church scattered” in our daily lives. In our uncivil world, these places offer weary travelers a moment of rest and reflection. All the while, they point to the ultimate magnetic Person—the Lord Jesus, the only place in whom we truly find rest.