Sunday, March 30, 2014

Why is it so hard to find our way home?

That last post about "church" surprised me.  It was the most often viewed post on this blog.  Why is that?  There must be a lot of pain related to church and religion.  I suppose that is why so many "imagine" a better world like John Lennon did.

But why all the pain? Why is it so hard to so hard to make it work?  Why is it so hard to love and be loved? 

I wonder if the pain involved with church has something to do with the inner call home and the simultaneous inner pull away from home?

Once I heard of a church that after the altar call was done, they told new converts to turn around and the whole church said, "Welcome Home!"  I thought that sounded pretty cool and strikes at something real.

Antoine Fisher is a deep movie about a young man who has a recurring dream/nightmare in which he is a little boy.  He runs through a field of flowers until he comes to a house and a dinning room lined with smiling guests.  He slides through the crowd until he finds his place at the table.  In front of his spot is a giant plate loaded with a stack of pancakes with butter and syrup cascading down all sides.  This is the "home" that calls us all in our dreams, but is so absent from our daily lives.

Why is it so hard to find your way home?  My Canadian friends would say it is easy.  Just buy a ticket from Air Canada.  We'll pick you up. Thanks, guys, but the urge I am feeling runs even deeper than the call of the moose or the laugh of the loon. And frankly, these days, I feel like my home has died.

I am reading a book by Henri Nouwan on the prodigal son.  He writes, "coming home meant, for me, walking step by step toward the One who awaits me with open arms and wants to hold me in an eternal embrace." It is so right but so hard all at the same time.  Like the prodigal, coming home is an acknowledgement of childlikeness, inability to earn your way back into favor.  Its a pretty helpless feeling that actually kept both the younger and the older son away in their own way for many years.  It took the hunger pangs and the feel of pig slop on his lips to finally force one of the sons to come home.  The other son ironically never really made it home.

The same consternation is in the voice of the servant who had only one talent.  "I knew that you were a very hard man. You harvest things you did not plant. You gather crops where you did not put any seed. So I was afraid."  Aren't we all a little afraid of coming home to the father?

At our wedding, 13 years ago, dad told a story of a professor/mentor who he admired greatly.  After some absence, he went back to visit.  He wasn't sure how he should greet this honored man.  Should he shake hands? Perhaps embrace shoulders a bit?  As it turned out, the man met him with arms wide open, there was not much else he could do but just let himself be hugged.  For a moment, he was afraid, then he was "home."

Here's a song for you that says it well.  May we all find our way home, even if it hurts.

"Lowell's favorite song about home"

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

What's the big deal with church?

Donald Miller, best-selling evangelical author, created a firestorm recently when he wrote a blog post about why he doesn't go to church much anymore. He talked about how the didactic event on Sunday was not how he best learned.
It got me thinking. 
Learning about God or even connecting with Him aren't the reasons I go either.  It's odd perhaps, but that has always been true for me.  A book, a mountain trail, a quiet stream, a coffee shop, a late night talk at Bible school -- these are the places I have experienced God.
So what of the organized church?
I realize I am way out on the end of the church attendance bell curve. I've attended over 6,000 church services in my day -- easily averaging three a week for my entire life. So please don't immediately apply my thoughts to your life. I am odd and I know that.
But the question remains. Why church?  Is it the social connection? 
Judging from sites like Recovering Grace -- and actually the daily news -- the church hurts people.  How many people can I count who have been deeply wounded by the "chuch"?  Lots.
Whatever happened to the "Safest Place on Earth?" The safest place is right outside Timbuktu -- far from anyone!
Either I am hopelessly depressed or I am on to something. Relationships are not safe. Who ever heard of a safe marriage? To love is to be hurt.
Associations are safe. Do you know anyone hurt by the National Model Railroad Association? Who ever saw the Parks Dept on the nightly news?  Have you ever seen a support group for survivors of the local PTA?
So here is what I am thinkin'.   The church is a painful place because its suppose to break us.  Like marriage any relationship entered into deeply results in a desperate realization that I like my own way and I need grace. I am not the nice guy I thought I was. This is the existential crisis we must face if we are to truly love.  As Jesus said, "Except a kernel of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abides alone, but if it die, it brings much fruit."  I remember that I honestly don't like most people, much less love my neighbor as myself. In that stark realization, I sink down into the childlike place where tears come from and prayer is real.  In that place, the Comforter comes, and I inexplicably see others as I am, a kid, and His love starts flowing.
I think this is the fruit he is talking about -- love, gentleness that comes when I know I have been given grace, patience, peace, stuff like that. This is the sort of thing that then marks the true followers of Jesus. By your love for each other they will know you (to paraphrase another of Jesus'words).
This love is a rare thing, particularly when it lasts. It is mostly in the brokenness of painful relatipnships that God births this love in us.
That's worth getting up on Sunday morning for.
P.S. If you hearing me saying in this post that I always get hurt by people at my church, that's not the point. The point is that as an introvert, faith commumity is often annoying and most Sundays I would rather hit the bike trail, but I stay because God has something good for me that only comes in relationship and relationship only comes through pain.

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