Having time away from the pulpit (I’m currently enjoying a sabbatical), being subjected to the role of a parishioner, an outsider to the worship culture of the particular congregation I happen to be visiting that Sunday, has allowed me time to reflect on the nature of this thing we call church. And If I’m honest, I don’t like it.
I’m not talking about how an individual fellowship confesses the reality of the church or its Credal underpinnings, but I’m talking about the thing as it actually is. Those people gathered in a particular place at a particular time to do a particular thing. I’m beginning to think that those who attend church don’t really understand what they are a part of.
It’s akin to watching a football game if you’ve never played it on a serious level. I can see the basic plays and the motion of the backs and receivers; I can even spot a blitz coming or double coverage in the backfield, but that is only a tiny piece of the whole picture. The intricacies of the moves along the front line, the glance of the quarterback to draw off the defense, and the entire team moving in particular ways to set up specific openings are something I can only appreciate after the fact, usually with the help of an announcer with a telestrator.
The point is, I watch the game and even enjoy it, but I don’t really understand it; it’s just my limited version. And something like this is the standard fare in churches across our country. You may think, “My church is different.” It’s not. If your church is of any decent size, let’s say enough people to pay a full-time pastor, then it suffers from an ignorance of itself. Sure, there are some who can run the telestrator, but the vast majority have no real idea what they are doing. Or even what the point is. They’re just happy if their side wins.
By “win,” I mean that they feel comfortable and included. It fits with their lifestyle and never makes them feel ashamed in mixed company.
So, one’s perception of the church quickly devolves to institutional ideals that are plagued by the tenets of success strategies from every other section of society. Church becomes about its role in the community, about the programs it offers, about the demographics, about the building campaigns, and so on. And when you sit in the pew, this is what you are greeted with; this is what you see. The winning team has no room for failure, no place for lament, and no time to sit quietly in the anguish and shame of broken lives.
We don’t want to know the whole picture, the details of the moves. We want a place where everyone is content, where we learn a few things to make life better, and everyone is happy to see you.
It all feels so commercial, lukewarm, and tame.
