Take Me to Church

One of the best church services I've ever been to was in a hospital room.  There were 6 of us in attendance.  Well, 7 if you count Jesus, but I'll tell you more about that later.

Church.  The mere mention of the word makes some of us cringe, recalling memories of being stuffed into uncomfortable clothes by our parents (As in: The fold over lace socks for girls.  I still have nightmares about those things.), and generally conjures up a murky soup of all sorts of images.  Rigid pew backs, fun youth leaders, long sermons.  The good, the bad, and the ugly…..all connected by the steeple on top.

Hypocrisy is the jugular many aim for with the church (Here's a blog about that).  A brutally legitimate complaint, but not what we’ll be discussing today.  Instead, I want to briefly explore the biblical origins of "church" and see what (if anything) is different in our present day perceptions of the word.  Because church today is synonymous with a fancy structure used primarily on Sunday mornings.  A service comprised of a complicated standing/sitting ritual and hymn singing.  A male pastor standing in front of a congregation preaching from his Bible with the gold pages.  So basically, “church” is a building characterized by antiquated traditions.  Wow.  I can see why many people are NOT eagerly banging down the doors on Sunday mornings.

If this less-than-appealing summary has you church goers feeling defensive, GOOD.  Because your friends who are unfamiliar with how you worship probably agree with me.  This is an accurate picture of how the general population views church: Boring and irrelevant.  That’s the box we’re in.  And if you believe in Jesus, this should make you spitting mad.

Here’s why: In many ways, the early church was the complete antithesis of the stodgy description above.  The book of Acts chronicled these vibrant new believers as they strengthened and established themselves, setting faith foundations for generations to come.  Listen to these convicting words from Acts 2:42-47:

“All the believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, and to fellowship, and to sharing in meals (including the Lord’s Supper), and to prayer.  A deep sense of awe came over them all, and the apostles performed many miraculous signs and wonders.  And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had.  They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need.  They worshiped together at the Temple each day, met in homes for the Lord’s Supper, and shared their meals with great joy and generosity all the while praising God and enjoying the goodwill of all the people.  And each day the Lord added to their fellowship those who were being saved.”

Amen, right?  THIS is what we are missing from our modern day church.  The fact that church is NOT A BUILDING (Did you notice that sharing meals is mentioned a whole heck of a lot more than meeting in the Temple?), but a group of believers living life together in love.  These men and women weren’t collecting money to build a bigger, fancier Temple or buy newer hymnals.  No, they were selling their possessions to provide for those in need.  They were meeting for dinner, sharing resources, basking in the generosity and goodwill of their friends.  Jesus was the undercurrent of their every action.  It’s no surprise people were magnetically drawn to them!  This wasn’t just a one day of the week type of faith, this was 24/7 serving and loving others in the way God intended.  Or, to put it in simpler terms, church.

This dynamic portrayal of church doesn’t get much publicity nowadays though.  There’s a reason for that: We’re running low on groups of self-sacrificing Jesus followers.  It’s a tragedy.  Imagine the difference a few of those Acts believers could make in 2015.  Religion without an agenda...are you kidding me?  It would blow people’s minds.  Recently, I read a great description of this kind of faith in Matthew Quick’s (author of “Silver Linings Playbook”) fictional story “The Good Luck of Right Now.”  In the book, the main character and his mother go out to eat for her birthday.  When they return after a lovely evening away, they discover their home had been broken into.  Every room in the house had been spray painted and violated in disgusting ways.  All valuables taken, all breakables broken.  Total mayhem, heartless destruction, and chaos hidden behind the familiarity of their front door.  Shocked and overwhelmed, Mom did the only thing she could think of doing.  She called the police and her priest.  Father McNamee showed up shortly thereafter with a team of congregants from their church.  They spent the entire night painting, washing linens and clothes, cleaning rooms, and removing debris--transforming the wreckage back into a home again.  Then came this remarkable paragraph:

“When the sun came up, Mom cooked breakfast for everyone, and one of the neighbors brought over plates for us to use.  Before we ate, as we all held hands in a circle, Father McNamee prayed and thanked God for the chance to prove that people are good and often take care of each other when the right sort of chance arises; he asked God to burn this night into our memory as an example of what true disciples of Christ are and can be when called upon--people who help their neighbors with compassion in their hearts and wine in their bellies, ready and willing to overcome any sort of ugliness (no matter the magnitude of the tragedy)--and then we ate like a family.”

That beautiful snippet of a story clearly shows church isn’t about WHERE you are…..it’s about WHO you are and WHAT you are doing.  The church resides within the actions of disciples of Christ.  Unfortunately this remains true whether or not you are willing to humble yourself and employ a servant’s heart.  For better or worse, YOU are the church.  And boom- that’s it.  The piece we’ve been missing.

In light of this, I’d like to tell you about the church service that changed my life.  You remember, the one in the hospital room?  It began with a guitar shoved in the trunk of my messy car.  Awhile back, Meghan and I had offered to chauffeur a dear friend of ours to visit her dying husband.  It wasn’t a task we took lightly.  For several months she’d been running herself ragged, torn between caring for her 2 young boys at home and commuting several times a week to his hospital (over an hour away).  Not only did we want her to be able to relax during the car ride that day, we wanted her to have the strength and support of friends at the hospital.  However, despite OUR benevolent expectations, when all was said and done-SHE was the one who ministered to us.  

His room was large and white, with that blank utilitarian feel.  Beeping monitors and muted chatter from the nurses filled the quiet space.  And then she rolled in like sunshine, this spectacular wife, a bright pulsing goodness refusing to be ignored.  She plopped right down on his bed and took his hand like it was any other normal day.  The conversation flowed freely-her words easily filling the gaps in dialogue for him, as most of his communication was gone by this point.  Then the guitar came out….and she sang the gorgeous song, “How He Loves.”  To put it precisely: Meg and I were wrecked.  Watching our sweet friend, this exhausted wife and mother, totally pouring out her heart in worship was humbling.  Breathtaking.  A moment I will never forget.  As Meghan aptly said afterwards, “I felt like we were standing on holy ground.”

Just over a month later, he was gone.  The evening after he died a few of us gathered to be with her.  We brought wine, fancy snacks, tears, and hugs in abundance.  We set up shop on her big bed: Shoes off, pillows shared, cross-legged on the comforter, encircling our friend.  There was crying, laughter, silence.  There was A LOT of wine drinking.  But most of all, we were simply together.  This informal communion had me remembering the precious compliment she gave Meghan and I after our mutual trip to the hospital.  “You girls are my Jesus with skin on.”  While looking around at the circle of faces I’ve come to view as sisters, I had to agree.  We take turns being Jesus to people.  What a huge, awe-inspiring responsibility.  But also, what an amazing gift.  Resting against my sister’s shoulder that night, I thought, “THIS is church.  And there’s absolutely no place I’d rather be.”