Transitions

from the church I want to the church(es) I have

I complain a lot. I'm very aware of that. When people describe me, they often use words like "critical" or "cynical". I recognize that that is their way of saying that I whine a lot. I don't deny it. I tend to think of what I would change about something before I think about what I like about it. What I am describing right now is certainly not one of my sexier traits. (I do have some sexy traits) It is what it is. It is apart of me. Not always a part I like, but certainly a defining part. Sometimes my own whining gets to me. Maybe it doesn't get to me often enough. I don't like feeling negative. I don't like bringing others down. Sometimes I wish I was a bit more on the Pollyanna-ish side. I think sometimes my negativity leaves me feeling iscontent in the midst of otherwise very good circumstances. Maybe that's what I have been wrestling with lately.

The truth of the matter is that though I have not settled in one community, I have been dipping my toes into several different ones, each with things that I really love. Without saying names of places, I do want to celebrate what those communities I am apart of have to offer.

One of the things that I have grown to appreciate about one of the communities I have been around since returning is the feeling of family. It is hard to define that feeling. Sometimes you know that you are welcome in a place and people will pardon whatever sins you bring in with you because you are apart of the family. They won't excuse your sins, but they will forgive. Maybe more importantly, they'll let you know that they're flawed as well. In its healthiest sense, family is the place where you can feel most comfortable being yourself. A lot of churches don't want that. They want the cleaned up, sanitized version of you. It is a blessing when you know that you can be who you are and that that person who you are is loved.

Another thing I have really grown to appreciate is communities that walk the line between tradition and innovation. I think younger church folks tend to want to throw out the more traditional elements of the faith. That tends to include people. It is fun to be apart of churches that listen to the older voices as they navigate contemporary issues. But you also have to invent. The church is facing a lot of things that people didn't have to deal with in the fifties. Having our eyes and ears faced towards the culture is not a bad thing along as we're not being corrupted by it. I appreciate the emphasis on mission many of the places I go to now have. When I say "mission", I'm not talking about going overseas or some committee within the church. I mean the idea of the church seeing itself as on a mission, that being to continue the work of Jesus Christ. There is something empowering that happens when people are told that they are doing Christ's work. Finally, I love the church. I love the diversity of thought and past experience that comes together, for whatever reason, to become the church. Much of the time, I think of te church as a student not living up to her/his potential. Still, I have to remember is that from the broken vessel that is the church, many good people have emerged, some damaged, but all faithful. We have all been shaped and molded by the body of Christ. Easy to overlook all the good that is being done in the world in the name of Christ. Good tends to fly under the radar. Many local expressions of Christ's body have poured into who I am now. I am thankful for that.

from Sunday morning to life together

Let me preface this by saying that I have experiences that I don't think are completely unique. One of which is the fact that from the ages of ten to about 13 I commuted to church. My folks continued the commute long after I stopped going to church with them. Our drive to church was about forty-five minutes. There's a lot that goes into that I'm sure was unique to me and my folks. Still, when I went to seminary, the situation wasn't much different for folks who lived in Marin, but worshipped in San Francisco. Even when I was in Portland working at a bunch of neighborhood churches, there were folks who would drive miles to get to church. The irony in that case was that sometimes people would pass one of the churches at which I was working to get to a different one!

What's my point in all of this? Well, my point is that you can't have community with folks you don't see on the weekdays. Okay, that's a generalization, but a pretty fair one I think. The folks in your community are the folks you see day in and day out. For most of us, work (whether we like it or not) is where we have community because that's where we spend the bulk of our time.

That brings me to another point; you don't have to have community with people at your jobs. You can go about your business and, depending on your job, operate with very few deep connections. What does that have to do with church? Well, it means that you can go six of seven days of the week (again, depending on your job) commuting to places where you don't really live life with people. And just by sheer volume of time spent together, you are most likely to have community with folks at work. My point is that church can feel like another place where you punch the clock, do your time, and try to get out without having someone yell at you.

So what are the alternatives? There are a couple as I see it: 1) investing in local churches. The small, local, neighborhood (whatever you want to call it) churches are dying because of the draw of large, megachurches where people can escape relatively unnoticed. Let's be honest, it is harder to go to a church where people notice your presence and absence. It means you may have to go consistently! When I stopped going to my parents' church I started going to a church that was in walking distance of my house. It wasn't as flashy or professional, but folks there knew my name (and they were always glad I came!) In addition, I saw the same folks at school, local events, and on my paper route. I know, it sounds like the fifties, but maybe the fifties weren't all bad.

The second alternative is something closer to what I'd like to be apart of. That is a community of folks built around common gathering spaces where people know each other, share life, and see each other regularly. A place where conversation could emerge organically. (the most postmodern sentence ever) A place where people could feel free to pray for each other spontaneously or discuss theology or show off pictures of their new (kid, dog, motorcycle...whatever). yes, we need time that is completely set apart for worship, but does it have to take place away from the normal flow of our lives? Can't we invite the Holy Spirit into any place we are? And if people saw a "normal" place suddenly became a "sacred" place, wouldn't they be drawn into that? If Christ is really the center of our lives, wouldn't worship...happen?

It is really easy to isolate oneself. I feel like I've gotten very good at it. Maybe I'm just looking for more to draw me out of my shell. I long for community, but I fear getting hurt by it.  I don't think I'm the only person like me in the world.

from something broken to something better (hopefully)

One of the sad things about living in Pittsburgh is that all of the church's dirty laundry gets aired on the front page of the paper. Take this for example.

Another church is leaving another fairly conservative southwestern PA presbytery. In my old neck of the woods no less. A lot has happened recently that just makes me wonder "why can't the church get its act together?"

The problem is, I know the answer to that question. We're all broken. I get that. I'm completely aware of my own brokeness. That answer rings hollow for me, though. Are we so broken that we can't see that we need each other? Are we broken that we can't perceive the image of Christ on the faces of our neighbor? Are we so broken that those of us who hold to authority of scripture can just ignore the myriad passages in which God shouts out His care for the poor and disenfranchised?

I'm not writing this to be judgmental. My own brokenness has kept me from committing to one local expression of the body for the past few months. I'm simply exasperated by having the same conversations in my head over and over again. (yes, those would be conversations with myself, big deal). With all of the ways that I have grown in the past few years, this is one stumbling block that I cannot get over: I hate church. I have been hurt and damaged by church. I have been abused by those who were supposed to represent God, some who didn't even realize they were being abusive. It's hard not to hate the church when the church used to beat you for so many years.

What compels me is that I also have a dream for what church can be. That's what drove me to seminary and I didn't find it there. I see glimpses of it here (The Project), but this is not "a" church. Some people are getting it right. Some of those people are good friends of mine. Some of them write inspiring books that shock me into hoping (I'm looking at you Shane Claiborne). Some of them just want to let kids know that they are loved just as they are.

So what's my dream for church? Well, that really doesn't matter, but I do want to write things down. Over the next couple of days I will write a few of my thoughts on what my dream for church is. This is solely for my own benefit, but feel free to chime in. I want something better. The world needs something better. God deserves something better.