Come together...

Last night before heading to bed, I spent a little time thinking about the week that had ended and the start of a new one and said to myself, "We keep doing this thing called church even when it seems ridiculous because we never know when it will click!"  We never know when someone will hear that they are God's beloved.  We never know when grace will triumph over judgment. Or forgiveness will cleanse old wounds long festering (or hidden.) We just never know...

... but it happens all the time!  Not in our control, of course, and not always when we would want it to happen.  But it happens all the time in ways that make me trust the foolishness of the Cross in spite of all the outward evidence.  I like the way Eugene Peterson once observed that, "Before the prophet Jeremiah knew God, God knew Jeremiah."

This turns everything we ever thought about God around. We think that God is an object about which we have questions. We are curious about God. We make inquiries about God. We read books about God... But that is not the reality of our lives with God. Long before we ever got around to asking questions about God, God has been questioning us... Before it ever crossed our minds that God might be important, God singled us out as important. Before we were formed in the womb, God knew us - and loved us.

Part of the commitment of doing church - being church and sharing church - goes back to Sunday's gospel:  Abide in me.  Rest in me.  Live in me.  Trust that the Spirit of the Lord is at work within and among us even when we don't see it or feel it or believe it. This presents two challenges:

First, while there are a variety of things local congregations can do to make our churches more hospitable - and we must do these things to get out of our ruts - at the same time it is always God who does the calling and healing and inviting, yes?  We are asked to abide - live in a creative compassion that offers a visible alternative to the status quo - and trust God for all the rest.  Remember what Douglas John Hall once observed:

The late Paul E. Scherer, regarded by many as the greatest preacher of his era, used to point out that in the newer Testament the kingdom of heaven is customarily depicted, poetically, as a great feast, a bounteous banquet - from which, ironically, everyone wants to stay away.  St. Paul himself, the most articulate and fervent apostle of the early church, could only be brought into the sphere of Christ's lordship kicking and screaming...

It is always hard for people to come to the table - even when we're starving. Forces within and among us keep us distracted and addicted, afraid and wounded, even when the invitation is simple: come to me all ye who are tired and heavy laden.  (How did Nirvana put it?  Come... as you are... as you were... as I wanted you to be?) 

We should not be surprised, therefore, when our numbers are down and giving is off and people seem too busy to show up.  Our job is to abide - to welcome and invite - to wait and trust in prayer - to be fully present - so that when the God within is finally honored the blessing can be celebrated, nourished and encouraged.

Second, in a bottom-line culture where the push and hustle of the market place is the dominant - maybe even singular - metaphor for living, it takes a great deal of patience and trust to abide.  People want results.  Denominations are afraid.  Local church leaders are terrified that many of us will have to close our doors in 20 years because we cannot sustain the institutions we have created.  I know that pressure - and fear - and it can really warp your perspective.  Been there, done that...

So remember: abiding is as much of a spiritual discipline as a calling, ok?  It must be nourished and practiced and supported.  We do not have a product the world wants.  We have a community nourished by the living presence of Jesus. So rather than try different church growth techniques, we would do better helping one another learn to rest and trust in the Risen Christ - because Christ is really all we have to share.

As one week ends and another begins, I can't help but think this is a very peculiar way of being in this world.  It is a weird and upside down job, too.  This week there will be people to visit and Eucharist to be shared, administrative worries to wrestle with and worship to prepare.  There will be fear and anxiety and then sometime in the midst of it all, someone will sense the presence of God within them and we will all return thanks to the Lord.

Here's a sweet little groove to encourage some abiding...