We don't "do" church

Some time ago a church sign caught my attention.  The sign announced a new sermon series entitled  "Why do church anyway?"

I understood what the preacher was driving at.  We often go through the motions of faith without thinking.  We come to church, sing songs,  go to Bible studies, all without a clear end in mind, because those are things seem to be expected.  It certainly makes sense that we should think how we should do things at church.

But do we "do" church?  Really?

Church is not a verb. It is a noun.  It's not something we do; it's something we are.

The church is the visible Body of Christ on earth. It is not a voluntary association like the Lions club or the Rotary or even the Republican party.  It does not exist a purpose, any more than our families exist for a purpose.  It exists because it exists,  just like you and I.

Suppose we substitute a person's name in the sign instead of the word church?  Suppose we say why "do" Mary,  or why "do" John?  The only time  "do" in used in such a context is crude slang for killing or having sex.  Either way, they become the object of either anger or desire.  To think of the church in such utilitarian terms is to depersonalize it, to deny its essence,  the very essence which makes it the church. 

We don't "do" family--we are a family.  We don't "do" church, either--we are the church, existing as a community because God put us here.  We are related by blood--not our own, but Christ's, and that means we are responsible for and beholden to each other in a bond that is greater than that of our own flesh. We are fathers, mothers, sisters, and brothers in the Lord,  called to love each other in Him.

The church is not a means to an end, not even a good end like evangelism or social justice.  It  is an organism, not an organization.  Organizations exists for a purpose.  Organisms exist because God made them for His own glory. 

The problem with the modern church is that it thinks it must  have a reason to exist.  If we applied the same utilitarian standard to infants,  the elderly, or the handicapped, it would be horrific.   If the bonds between brothers and sisters, fathers and sons,  were only important if they furthered some greater  purpose,   then the world would be a horrible, loveless place.  So why should the bonds between Christians only exists for a greater purpose?  Why can't a church just be?

The modern church, both in its traditional and  contemporary forms, has been often guilty of treating its members as mere utilities.  Contemporary church leaders in their zeal to win the lost, have often seen their members as unimportant in themselves  unless they further the cause of church growth and evangelism.  The preferences and comfort of older members are often cast aside in favor of the new, the experimental, and the innovative.  We spiritualize the abandonment of the old, calling it "pruning the dead wood" or of "throwing out the old wineskins."   C S Lewis once commented that Jesus told Peter "Feed my sheep" not  "perform experiments on my lab rats." 

The traditional church is no better, in fact it may be far worse.  Traditionalist want nothing to do with  "do" church in a differently, confusing outward form with inward conviction,  freezing the church in whatever era they feel most comfortable, allowing church ritual and expression to become increasingly irrelevant and archaic.   They, too, favor the members who can best maintain our institutions,  pay for our preachers, and bring prestige to our tarnished denominational names.

The church isn't something we do.  It's a family--a fellowship of men, women, and children in which everyone is loved, everyone is important and everyone is cherished.  When the church is viewed as a means to an end, it ceases to be a family and becomes an adornment to our egos.  It becomes  a way for pastors to prove their superior worth by performance instead of by  humbly accepting God's gift of grace. 

With all due respect and to Rick Warren (who I really do admire), I've seen the "purpose-driven church," and frankly it sickens me. I would rather have a church which goes nowhere but loves everyone than one where its members are merely means to an end. 

If there is an a way to "do" church then it should be with love, and grace,  praising God and being in favor with one another. 

Called not to preach

More than forty years ago, I was called to preach.  Now, for the first time, I have been called not to preach. 

I hope it isn't permanent.  I  still want to get back into the pulpit of some church somewhere as soon as possible.  I like preaching--anyone who has done it for long would say the same thing.  I teach preaching now, as well as other pastoral studies but teaching and preaching are not the same thing.  I want to do it. 

However,  the opportunities for me to preach are just not there at the moment.  I have to conclude for now that God has other plans for me. 

I ask God why.  Can't I be useful? Haven't I been effective?  Don't I have something to say?  Have I gotten so old that you can't use me? 

I'm not alone in this thinking.  I have several friends who are temporarily or permanently out of pulpits who ask the same thing. They would fall all over themselves for a chance to stand in front a a congregation, any congregation and proclaim God's word.  In truth, preaching is a kind of addiction--once you fall in love with doing it, you want your weekly fix. 

I'm that way, I know.  But God has not called me to preach now. He has called me not to preach, but to teach my classes through the week and go listen to someone else on Sunday.

Now I'm about two months out of the pulpit,  and I'm beginning to understand a little of what God is doing.

When a preacher has been preaching for a while, a scary things starts to happen to him.  He starts to split in two.  There's a public "me"--Reverend "me"--and plain old ordinary me--mini "me."  Rev "me" is kind, wise and steady,  mini "me" is anxious,  stubborn and unsteady, just like everyone else.  Rev. "me" carries himself tall, straight, and dignified.  Mini "me" slouches on the couch with a coke in his hand,  watching TV, or yells at other drivers in traffic jams, or throw his racket down in disgust when someone beats him at racketball.  Rev. "me" rejoices at the good fortune of his colleagues.  Mini "me" fumes because that pulpit committee didn't even bother to send a return letter for that resume you sent.  Rev. "me" sympathizes with the plight of those less fortunate; mini "me" giggles over the youtube video of that dog running into a wall.  

You get the idea. 

Sometimes God has to slay Rev. "me" to get to mini "me."  The only way I can be real or honest is to take off the robe and the mask, and sit in the pew for a while like every other sinner.

On the whole, I guess I like Rev. "me."  But there's a few things about him that I don't like.  For one thing, Rev. "me" is a profound know-it-all.  He's got an answer for everything.  He knows how to approach God, and how God wants to be approached.  He's got his theology all worked out.  This is easy to do, of course, when he's never out of his own pulpit.  He never sees how other people do things except when he's on vacations, and he never much leaves his comfort zone.  But when Rev. "me" becomes mini "me"  he's in a whole new world. People worship in different ways, have new ideas,  have different burning interests. Some things he expected to be true are true. Other things are not quite as expected.  The world of worship is larger and more varied than we think it is, and we soon find out that there is life outside the narrow confines of our traditions. 

So the past few weeks have been a good learning experience for Joy and I. We haven't yet settled on a place to worship regularly, but we have had some good experiences and met some fine people.  Nevertheless, I pray regularly for God to call me to preach again.

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