I went to church today for the first time in ages, a fact I dislike immensely. I work on Sundays and haven't found a Bible study or anything during the week, so I was super excited to actually have the day off and be able to go to church, to a good church (very important).
I pulled into the parking lot and realized a couple was getting ready to go. But when I realized it was going to be awhile, since they had to lock in their two kids before they were moving anywhere, I opted to go further down and park in a readily-packaged space. As I did, the thought of the large number of kids in this church and my home church flashed through my mind. Instantly, I recoiled slightly. Not because I don't like kids or I think the planet's going to die thanks to fertile Christians. No, I recoiled at the consideration of why there were so many kids. Was it because the pastor said you should have some? My pastor is always pointing out what the Bible indicates about children, that they're a blessing. I get that, and I think it's cool when people decide to invest their lives in leaving a legacy and raising the next generation. However, I think it's weird that a pastor says "you should have kids" and the place is suddenly bursting at the seams. I wonder if, were I on the outside, I would think we're a cult.
I laugh at this-- I know my church is decidedly not. I know they constantly push the phrase "It's all about Jesus," and they embrace culture while shunning religion and morality. It's Jesus and there are a few non-negotiable things concerning Him, but the rest is really up to the individual. I like that. I think it prevents cults, since those are places you can't disagree or debate or question. Or oust your leader. So I'm good with that. What does concern me is how many people would still live so 'vibrantly' if their leader disappeared. Many of the men in churches are standing up and demanding, of themselves and the guys around them, that men step up, grow up, and lead, that they leave a legacy of honor and courage and integrity and strength. It makes me swoon, naturally. But I wonder how many are really standing and looking at Jesus, and how many are just really caught up in their pastor's personality? He's a cool guy, a role model and 'the dad I never had' to many. I look around and think about how I don't want a copy cat. I want a man, a real one, who stands on his own two feet and lives that same life from personal conviction and beliefs.
Anyway, so I get to the front door, I walk in, and I look around. The church is a lot like Mars Hill in Seattle. I love that church, it's my home church. But it bothered me to feel like this city, far far away from Seattle, was trying to tout the same culture. In other words, was it trying to be Seattle? But I had to shut my mouth there, because I realized how ignorant I am of this city's culture. I have no idea what the locals are into, what shapes their worldview and expression. So I dropped the suspicion and decided I should stop being all judgy. It's a habit of mine, criticism, which probably roots in the fertile soil of envy. Look- a whole congregation of people connected in a community where they belong. Must be something wrong. Yeah, envy is ugly. It's gotten better, believe me, but I'm still a work in progress.
The sermon was about a passage in Galatians, and was titled "Fighting for Grace." Oh, grace? My favorite thing in the world. I could sit for hours, listening to teachings on grace. It's the most mind-blowing, thoroughly offensive, hard-to-understand, hopeful, freeing, dismantling and renewing force I've ever encountered. It's so rich, so complex, so simple! It's terrifying and beautiful-- exquisite. I get it's being controversial. If a man molests a kid and somebody else takes his punishment-- outrage!! But that would be grace. And while it has often bugged me in the case of other bad guys, it has shut my mouth when I consider my own experience. It's clear to me I'm not perfect. It's even clearer to my friends :) And when I know I don't have to earn God's favor, His love, His approval, that Jesus took care of all of it (grace), well... I don't even know what to say. When you can't save yourself, so God Himself takes care of what you couldn't do, then keeps on giving, what's left to say? And what does that say about God? You would think I'd just throw off all restraint and run amok, since now I don't have to be freaked out, and yet....I don't feel at all restrained. Or if I do, it's a sweet limitation. Like a bride who doesn't flirt with the best man. Her interest is captivated elsewhere.
I pulled into the parking lot and realized a couple was getting ready to go. But when I realized it was going to be awhile, since they had to lock in their two kids before they were moving anywhere, I opted to go further down and park in a readily-packaged space. As I did, the thought of the large number of kids in this church and my home church flashed through my mind. Instantly, I recoiled slightly. Not because I don't like kids or I think the planet's going to die thanks to fertile Christians. No, I recoiled at the consideration of why there were so many kids. Was it because the pastor said you should have some? My pastor is always pointing out what the Bible indicates about children, that they're a blessing. I get that, and I think it's cool when people decide to invest their lives in leaving a legacy and raising the next generation. However, I think it's weird that a pastor says "you should have kids" and the place is suddenly bursting at the seams. I wonder if, were I on the outside, I would think we're a cult.
I laugh at this-- I know my church is decidedly not. I know they constantly push the phrase "It's all about Jesus," and they embrace culture while shunning religion and morality. It's Jesus and there are a few non-negotiable things concerning Him, but the rest is really up to the individual. I like that. I think it prevents cults, since those are places you can't disagree or debate or question. Or oust your leader. So I'm good with that. What does concern me is how many people would still live so 'vibrantly' if their leader disappeared. Many of the men in churches are standing up and demanding, of themselves and the guys around them, that men step up, grow up, and lead, that they leave a legacy of honor and courage and integrity and strength. It makes me swoon, naturally. But I wonder how many are really standing and looking at Jesus, and how many are just really caught up in their pastor's personality? He's a cool guy, a role model and 'the dad I never had' to many. I look around and think about how I don't want a copy cat. I want a man, a real one, who stands on his own two feet and lives that same life from personal conviction and beliefs.
Anyway, so I get to the front door, I walk in, and I look around. The church is a lot like Mars Hill in Seattle. I love that church, it's my home church. But it bothered me to feel like this city, far far away from Seattle, was trying to tout the same culture. In other words, was it trying to be Seattle? But I had to shut my mouth there, because I realized how ignorant I am of this city's culture. I have no idea what the locals are into, what shapes their worldview and expression. So I dropped the suspicion and decided I should stop being all judgy. It's a habit of mine, criticism, which probably roots in the fertile soil of envy. Look- a whole congregation of people connected in a community where they belong. Must be something wrong. Yeah, envy is ugly. It's gotten better, believe me, but I'm still a work in progress.
The sermon was about a passage in Galatians, and was titled "Fighting for Grace." Oh, grace? My favorite thing in the world. I could sit for hours, listening to teachings on grace. It's the most mind-blowing, thoroughly offensive, hard-to-understand, hopeful, freeing, dismantling and renewing force I've ever encountered. It's so rich, so complex, so simple! It's terrifying and beautiful-- exquisite. I get it's being controversial. If a man molests a kid and somebody else takes his punishment-- outrage!! But that would be grace. And while it has often bugged me in the case of other bad guys, it has shut my mouth when I consider my own experience. It's clear to me I'm not perfect. It's even clearer to my friends :) And when I know I don't have to earn God's favor, His love, His approval, that Jesus took care of all of it (grace), well... I don't even know what to say. When you can't save yourself, so God Himself takes care of what you couldn't do, then keeps on giving, what's left to say? And what does that say about God? You would think I'd just throw off all restraint and run amok, since now I don't have to be freaked out, and yet....I don't feel at all restrained. Or if I do, it's a sweet limitation. Like a bride who doesn't flirt with the best man. Her interest is captivated elsewhere.
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