What often keeps a believer from making the jump to an organic house church isn't always fear of it.
Often it's a fondness for earthly things that keep many way from simpler worship practices. Be it a love for tradition, a family or ethnic heritage, an awe of history, a deep appreciation for ornate, ancient architectural trends, or even just the warm fuzzies some get from the "smells and bells" and other religious trappings, it can be difficult for those wrapped up in it to find themselves at home in a church setting where everything is reduced to the biblical basics. Without buildings, without priests, without ritual, they'll often feel that something is missing and not consider it to be "real church."
Our local meeting is unique in that we encourage each other to mix it up with local brick-and-mortar churches. In other words, and for example, an Anglican steeped in tradition and ritual -- priestly robes, responsive readings, saint festivals, and all that -- can have it both ways and meet with us, too. At least in theory.
As a resident of the Austin metro area (the political community, on top of that) it can be difficult for me to make the case for a simple, organic fellowship. So many are drawn to the systematic rhythms of the traditional church, as well as the prestige it brings to be a part of a church that seems much more connected to our cultural history. A thousand years of Western Christendom can't be wrong. It appeals to the senses, particularly to the college-educated, and collectively knows what works.
As an appreciator of Christian history and a conservative in many regards, I can identify with that sense of fondness. There's a certain grandeur you miss out on, though I've come to see it as separate from the actual functioning of the Body of Christ -- man-made extras that take absolutely nothing away from the life of the Body when avoided. These extras are "childish things" that can be done away with easily by mature believers (I Cor. 13:11). The danger is when the allure of these things overshadows or obscures the basics of how the Body is designed to function.
Revival figurehead John Wesley, himself an Anglican cleric who died loyal to the Church of England, also walked that line between the "high church" and organic meetings. While he never let the Methodist "societies" and "bands" (small, often home-based accountability and teaching sessions) baptize new believers or offer the Lord's Supper, his hope was that these meetings would invigorate the Church of England and bring it back to something closer to the "primitive (early) church" of the New Testament.
I'll let "the Right Reverend" Mr. Wesley have the final word:
"The need for repentance in the life of the believer further extends to his sense or feelings of desire to gratify the imagination with something great, beautiful, or uncommon. In how many ways does this desire assault the soul? Perhaps with the poorest trifles, such as dress or furnishings -- things never designed to satisfy the immortal spirit.
How hard it is, even for believers, to conquer just one branch of the desire of the eye, curiosity, to constantly trample it under their feet and desire nothing merely because it is new!
How hard is it even for the children of God wholly to conquer "the pride of life" (I John 2:16)! St. John seems to mean by this nearly the same with what the world terms "the sense of honor." This is no other than a desire of, and a delight in, the honor that comes from men: a desire and love of praise. And always joined with this is a proportional fear of dispraise.
Nearly allied to this is evil shame, the being shamed of that in which we should glory.
This is seldom divided from the fear of man, which brings a thousand snares upon the soul. A thorough conviction of the remains of these evil tempers in the heart is the repentance belonging to true believers."
