Sunday rant

Maybe it was the day, the fact that I was frustrated with other things, or that I had just finished reading Shane Claiborne's The Irresistible Revolution, but as I stood and sang as I had many other Sundays in many other churches, I began to notice something.

The church I attend is not what you'd call a mega-church, but the attendance is pretty substantial for a Lutheran congregation these days.  The sanctuary is filled with people of various backgrounds, ages, and familial statuses, and there is a balance of hymns and worship songs in the liturgy.  Pastor 's sermons are fiery and not too long, and Preschool and Sunday School both continue to run smoothly.  All in all, it's a comfortable and welcoming place.

Then I noticed the space - we have a fairly large building, two floors with a gymnasium and an attic study room where we usually hang for Young Adult events.  And my thoughts went on tangents.  Our church is located off a fairly seedy area of town, the kind of area people warn you against walking through at night: exemplifying this, during announcements, one of the congregation members informed us of vandalism to vehicles that had been happening during services.  He advised people to keep valuables out of sight, and that it was too bad it was happening, but that "it's just the society we live in".

That comment kind of threw me.  Images of a picnic in the parking lot filled with people from the community and cots set up in the sanctuary passed through my head. We are so blessed (or cursed, depending on your point of view) with wealth in North America. We live in comfortable heated houses and comfortable double-doored churches.  We are in love with our own affluence.  How are we using the gifts God has given us to serve others?  That was my burning overwhelming question as I considered the space around me this past Sunday.

To be fair, our congregation is active in many things.  Members run schools, programs for inner city kids, Bible studies, soup kitchens and pancake breakfasts, world missions, outreach services to senior's homes, music ministry and many other God glorifying things.  In our congregation though, I also see people who are frustrated with the system, who are looking for somewhere to belong, who have difficult questions and pains.  People who see the Church as a place of closed doors and too-happy faces.

Sometimes I wish I lived in a country where Christianity was illegal, so that I could be part of a mobile family of believers meeting in houses,  on street corners, in the sewers of society, ready at any moment to die for what you believe.  Christianity like that is hard to find in our society.  But I am thankful of the community that I am part of, imperfect as it is and always will be.  We can't blame the Church for not doing or loving enough: we can only blame ourselves for not trying to change that.  We are the Church and by God's grace He will continue to work through us, in big ways and in small.

One of my favourite points in Claiborne's book is his reoccurring theme of Jesus as a homeless person.  “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” (Matthew 8:19-21) What if we as Christians lived that way? After all, we are in this world only a short time.  What is God calling us to do with our lives and the blessings He has given all of us, whether they be gifts of wealth, compassion, prophecy, artistry, homes, cars, churches, intelligence, the knack of knowing when someone needs a shoulder, the awareness that something needs to change?

And what if we listened?

(Follow this link to see Shane Claiborne reading the best sermon ever)