For years I didn't like church. Yeah, it’s not real cool for
a missionary to not like church, but I didn't. There was something about it
that didn't feel real to me. So week after week Nancy would make me go.
People sang, a pastor spoke, we sang some more then went home. But that was it. Nothing changed. People didn't seem to change. I certainly wasn't changing. It was routine, mundane, dry.
Returning to the “U.S. church” is hard for a lot of missionaries (though my struggle began long before that). After years of bumping into people living in poverty, a coffee shop in the foyer feels a bit shallow.
With no real relationship with the people inside, it’s pretty easy to look at the nice cars, fancy buildings, stage, band, frappuccinos, lattes and espressos and start to judge. You begin to see people as shallow, self absorbed, uninformed, apathetic and addicted to comfort.
But so am I.
The problem really isn't the church. The problem is me. My attitudes, my judgmental nature, my sense of self importance and self-centeredness. Me.
If the church is the body of Christ then I need to be in love with it. I need to be active and engaged. I need to plug in and use whatever gift it is God has given me to build it up, make it stronger and grow it.
Is it perfect? No. But I can’t help change it from the outside. And I certainly won’t with some holier than thou, finger pointing tirade from my hypocritical, pharisaical heart. Only by loving people enough to carefully confront can change occur. Not out of condemnation, but from a deep desire to see people draw closer to Christ.
If you've left the church because you're a grouch like me, get over yourself. Come back. Let's get to work.
The church is full of people, so there will always be someone there who you aren't going to like, someone who will bother you and even hurt you. If you have left the church because you've been hurt, I am sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.
Please come back. Let’s try it again. Together.
People sang, a pastor spoke, we sang some more then went home. But that was it. Nothing changed. People didn't seem to change. I certainly wasn't changing. It was routine, mundane, dry.
Returning to the “U.S. church” is hard for a lot of missionaries (though my struggle began long before that). After years of bumping into people living in poverty, a coffee shop in the foyer feels a bit shallow.
With no real relationship with the people inside, it’s pretty easy to look at the nice cars, fancy buildings, stage, band, frappuccinos, lattes and espressos and start to judge. You begin to see people as shallow, self absorbed, uninformed, apathetic and addicted to comfort.
But so am I.
The problem really isn't the church. The problem is me. My attitudes, my judgmental nature, my sense of self importance and self-centeredness. Me.
If the church is the body of Christ then I need to be in love with it. I need to be active and engaged. I need to plug in and use whatever gift it is God has given me to build it up, make it stronger and grow it.
Is it perfect? No. But I can’t help change it from the outside. And I certainly won’t with some holier than thou, finger pointing tirade from my hypocritical, pharisaical heart. Only by loving people enough to carefully confront can change occur. Not out of condemnation, but from a deep desire to see people draw closer to Christ.
If you've left the church because you're a grouch like me, get over yourself. Come back. Let's get to work.
The church is full of people, so there will always be someone there who you aren't going to like, someone who will bother you and even hurt you. If you have left the church because you've been hurt, I am sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.
Please come back. Let’s try it again. Together.
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