Eight of us met this morning in my living room for a Lenten mini-retreat.
I led the group, inasmuch as I was the one who got them started, but in the
end, I was as much led by them as they were by me. My goal was to get them thinking
about how they have grown spiritually through the years so that they might be
open to growing some more during the season of Lent. Sounds simple enough,
doesn’t it?
To reflect on the past, I asked them to map out their
spiritual journeys, noting the highs and the lows, the bumps and the turns
along the way. I will admit that I had assumed their journeys would look a lot
like my own. That’s what I was expecting. But that’s not what happened. Instead,
I heard eight entirely different stories. One had been raised on hell-fire and
brimstone. Another had never once doubted the love of God in her whole life. Still another had grown up within a faith community where she felt truly loved only
to later experience judgment and rejection when she didn’t meet their
expectations as an adult. Most had “wandered off to find where
demons dwell” at some point, but in different ways, at different times, and for
different reasons. It was amazing to find us all in the same room at the same
time sharing our diverse stories. None
but God could have pulled that off.
Despite the differences in their stories, there was a common
thread I heard that blew me away. Without any prompting on my part, they discussed
their spirituality in relationship to their connection to church. They felt
strongest in their faith when they were most connected to a church, and when
they were floundering, church was absent from their lives. So, I wondered, was
it that when they felt more connected to God, they also wanted to be a part of
a church, or was it when they became involved in a church that they also felt
more connected to God? It’s the proverbial chicken and egg question, only the
chicken is faith and the egg is church. In this little focus group, I was
trying to draw conclusions from what they were telling me about the life of
faith. Well, some said that faith came first and church followed, while for others,
it was being part of a church that led them to a stronger faith. So, it was
puzzling just how it worked for them. But one thing was clear -- their
connection to God and their connection to church are intertwined.
I know that as a pastor this shouldn’t surprise me, but it
does. Why? Because my inclination has been to accept church as a necessary evil
for people of faith. The spiritual journey is just too hard to go it alone, so
we need to be a part of something larger than ourselves. The Church isn’t perfect, and there are lots
of things we get wrong, but it’s all we have. So, by default, we have to do church.
My attitude has been pretty negative, I admit. Sometimes, as a pastor, I feel
like I’m a zookeeper tending to one of the few remaining dinosaurs on earth. In
time, church will become extinct along with the ones who pastor them. Lately, I had been thinking
that this might not be such a terrible loss.
But for these dear saints sitting in my living room, there
is a direct correlation between the strength of their faith and their spiritual
grounding in a faith community. I’m still trying to consider the significance
of this. No, church is not God. No one in my little group would say that. They
know the difference. But, maybe that’s not the whole story. Maybe church is not
God, but church also IS God. After all, the scriptures teach us that we are
Christ’s Body in the world and that when we love, we are in God and God is in
us. It’s not so easy to separate them and say that this is God and that is the
Church and never the two shall meet. Among all the paradoxes that I have grown
to accept as a part of what it means to live by faith, that is one that I had
never considered before. Church is not God/Church is God. I’m hanging onto that
for a while, turning it over in my mind, and waiting to see if it still holds
true for me in a month or two. If it does, I’m hoping that I have a clearer understanding
of how this matters for me in my life and vocation.
My sense is that this is disruptive enough to my way of
perceiving the world that it will result in a shift in my thinking. I don’t
know where it is leading, but it definitely changes the way I think about my
role as a pastor. For starters, I realize that I haven’t taken it seriously
enough. What I do and how I do it matters more than I had ever imagined.
I have encouraged the people in my congregation to think
outside their comfort zones during Lent this year, to be open to God’s Spirit
of transformation calling them to a wider and deeper understanding of their
faith. I am teaching an adult class that will challenge many of their long-held
views. I gave them a reading list of dangerous books that will mess with their
minds. I have pushed them to move forward, to lean into their fears, and
venture into unknown territory. I hadn’t really thought too much about how that
might be a good Lenten activity for me to engage in, as well. Not until this
morning.
If that wasn’t God speaking to me through a community of the
faithful meeting in my living room on this first Saturday in Lent, I don’t know
what was. God is not church; God is church. Well, yes.
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