Tag: church (Page 4 of 4)

What Does Church Look Like?

May 7, 2012 /

I saw something stunning and beautiful Saturday night at worship.

I saw the Church.

Not the church.  Not the steeple or worship band or the red carpeting.  But something illusive and shy, like a wobbly fawn that is often camouflaged in the underbrush of dead leaves, and can often collapse under weak, buckling knees.

It peeked out, and I caught a holy glimpse.

It’s common these days to hear the refrain, “I love Jesus but not the Church.”  We get all worked up pointing to her hypocrisy and judgmentalism and ugly blemishes and bad habits.  I’ve written before about how we’ve been hurt by her.

But I’m blessed to be part of a community of believers where Church-sitings, real Church-sitings, the kind Jesus talked about – the kind Jesus prayed for at the end of John 17 – thankfully aren’t that rare.  And I had one the other night.

It was a simple thing really.  I was sitting in the back of the sanctuary on the left and a few rows in front of me sat a woman my age (read “very young”) who was diagnosed a couple of years ago with Early-onset Alzheimer’s.  She is blond and soft and round and absolutely full of child-like joy.  Beside her sat her husband who is kind, and devoted.

In the middle of the sermon she got up and scooched out of the pew.  I watched as she ambled to the back of the sanctuary past me and turned left along the back row.

Another woman sitting in the section one over, noticed who it was leaving, smiled brightly, popped up, and joined her walking out.  A few minutes later the two of them returned.  The “escort” gently guided her friend back to the correct pew and her husband, and went back to her own seat.

Like Jesus guiding one of His little lambs back to safety.

Such a very simple thing.  But it made me cry.  The beauty of it.  The rightness of it.

Alzheimer’s or not, we all wander off from time to time and need someone to walk alongside of us and remind us where we belong don’t we?

The sermon continued, but the more powerful message was being played out in the pews.

The church was being the Church and so often that doesn’t get seen and celebrated for the wonder that it is.

When have you been inspired by seeing the church be the Church?

To my Friends wounded by the Church

March 28, 2012 /

Dear Friends wounded by the Church,

As I write this, each of your faces come to mind and tears fill my eyes.  For you.

And for me.  Because I am one of you.

Maybe it’s because I am that you’ve felt safe to share your pain with me.

You’ve experienced exclusion,

poorly handled conflict,

shaming,

power struggles,

dishonesty,

truth-telling with out grace or hope of redemption

from a church you’ve loved.

From a church I’m sure would say is trying to do its best.

But I think of the particular circumstances each of you have endured at the hands of people who say they love Jesus, and mostly I just can’t believe it and I want to rail at the injustice and shake “someone” and make it right, and undo the pain.  But instead, maybe I could tell you a story.

Last summer when I was on a bike ride through my neighborhood on a beautiful warm breezy day, my shoelace got tangled in the gears of my bike. I swerved and was stuck and took a wicked bad fall, gashing my knee gruesomely and dripping blood everywhere leaving quite a trail of evidence for the CSI folks should they choose to investigate.  It felt scary and unexpected and I felt out-of-control.

To add to my humiliation, a bunch of my friends, men, women, and children, were out in their front yard and witnessed the whole awkward debacle.  And I couldn’t even get up because my shoelace was still tightly tethering me to my gears.  The whole group of them ran over to me all concerned, and one of them ran back to get a wet towel and a super-hero bandaid which was so sweet.

For days and weeks and months, that wound was tender and though it scabbed over, it got easily bumped and would start bleeding all over again.  I’d experience set-backs in the healing process and I learned to not be around the people who would carelessly stumble into me and my fragile wound.  Instead, for awhile, I needed to choose gentle friends and counselors who loved me and would be patient with my ugly scab and listen to the story of how it happened.

It was some of those same people who, as I began to heal, were able to help me ask about my choices in the situation, and where God was, and what He might be teaching me.  In the process I realized that my fists were clenched a lot – clenched in determination to fix things quickly.  And they helped me to unclench my hands and patiently trust Jesus to do His work.

I believe we get better if we want to.  But today, I still have a very noticeable scar that will probably never disappear.   This scar is my reminder to be careful, wear my helmet, and try to be gentle with other riders.  Oh, and tie my shoes more tightly.

The other day, a friend who’s recently been hurt and disillusioned by the church said, “I don’t see how you have hope and why you keep showing up.”  The church does, often, make me sad, but it’s not the church I trust in.  It’s Jesus.

To my many friends who, like me, have been wounded by the church I would say don’t give up on Her.  Because Jesus hasn’t given up on Her.  Or you.  Or me.  And we are the church.

Speak the truth.  Be gentle.  Look for Jesus.  Admit your own brokenness.  Forgive.  But don’t give up.

For whatever reason, Jesus has said the Church is His Plan A for loving the world.

Ahh but we’re a messed up bunch, aren’t we all?  So it’s a good thing that included in Plan A is  the cross and forgiveness for all of us.

Have you been wounded by the church?  What has God used to help you heal?

Canceling Church, part 2

December 26, 2011 /

Merry day after Christmas!  I hope you had a lovely day, fully present to Jesus and loved ones around you.  

Friday I posted on different attitudes towards canceling church on Christmas day, including my own whine well reasoned argument against John signing our family up to lead in worship.  Well the troops rallied and it was a delightful day.  Since I’m following the advice of my blog “mentor”, Jon Acuff and taking a little break this week, I thought I’d just post what I shared in church yesterday. 

Twenty-six years ago this past week John and I were waiting for a baby to arrive.  It was Advent so we were waiting to celebrate the birth of Jesus.  But we were also expecting our first baby.

I was 8 months pregnant and like all expectant parents we were discussing names.   We couldn’t agree, but it wasn’t for lack of resources.

We had a baby book with the meanings of names.

And even a Christian version with Bible verses for each name’s meaning.

And then we had, you know… the whole BIBLE, with all those holy names to choose from.  But…we had…issues.

I had been an elementary school teacher which meant we had to nix any names that had belonged to problem kids I had had in class.  I used to love the name Jeremy until I had a third grade “Jeremy” who was worse than Dennis the Menace and Osama bin Laden.  So Jeremy was out.  And so was Alex.  And Michael.

Then we had trouble agreeing on the type of name.  I like unusual names, and would have no problem naming a child Zechariah (my cousin has kids named Cosmo and Zappa so he’d feel right at home).  But John likes the classics (and the name “John” in particular), so there was no way we could agree on a boy’s name that was acceptable.  It’s a good thing we had a girl.

When Jesus was born, Mary and Joseph didn’t have to have the “What shall we name him” conversation fraught with the potential disagreements.  I know there are a lot of downsides, to being the parents of the Messiah, but this is a perk.  They had an ANGEL show up and say, “Here’s the deal.  You’re gonna have a baby and I want you to name Him Jesus.  Got that?  Jesus.   Not Joe.”  

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Canceling Church

December 21, 2011 /

Christmas lands on Sunday this year (in case you missed the memo).                              And my husband is a pastor.                                                                                                       And he scheduled Christmas morning worship.                                                          How do you feel about that?

You may think, “It’s Sunday!  Slam dunk!  That’s as it should be!  I personally can have a worshipful spirit while still in my pj’s at home on Christmas morning, but it’s good to know there will be church as usual for, you know… other people.”

Or you may think, “Absolutely!  We will have have opened gifts, enjoyed brunch, and we’re planning to get to church early just to make sure we can get a good seat.  Anyone not in church must not love Jesus.”

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Seeing and Being Seen

October 19, 2011 /

I was sitting in church on the aisle on a Sunday awhile ago, feeling alone and out of place.  Have you ever felt that way? (I figure if I have, I’m not the only one!).  The sanctuary was darkened for a video when I felt a strong hand squeeze my shoulder from behind.  I turned to see a dear friend who I love and hadn’t seen in a long time.  I jumped up to give him a quick hug.  I whispered, “I’ve missed you so much.” But no words were necessary.  In that small moment, that small gesture, it was like Jesus was reminding me, “I see you.  I care, and I’m glad you’re here.”

Isn’t this part of what it means to be brothers and sisters in the body of Christ?  Showing up and being the visible reminder of God’s invisible presence?  Although there are times when all of us want to be anonymous, what struck me was the power of being noticed.  How many people do I walk by each day who are feeling left out and need to be reminded that they matter?  That God sees them and cares?

A mentor of ours said once that a leader is someone who walks more slowly through a room, noticing God and others rather than hurrying to the next task. 

Have you been in a situation when a hug from someone felt like a hug from Jesus?                                                                                                                                                   

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