Should You Stay or Should You Go...In Church?

My daughter posted a link on Facebook the other day about why people are “really” leaving the church lately. Given that’s a subject that I take an interest in, I was eager to see what the author had to say, so I clicked right in and read it. And for good measure, I let it sit for a day and then read it again.

Part of the comments made I could identify with immediately. I’ve been caught in discussions before where the emphasis was far more on using the right term than understanding the thought and context behind it. Other parts left me more than a little baffled, as the man described responses from the church that I’ve never experienced, and in my roughly forty-five years attendance, spotty during life periods to be sure, I’ve gone to more than a few. And that’s a part of my problem with the author’s reasoning.

The tendency in the country today, maybe in world, is to lump local, individual bodies into some huge, over-arching unit. People talk about “the church,” or “law enforcement,” or “mortgage bankers,” or whatever else they seem to have a gripe with as though it was some kind of monolithic hive-mind, with every member marching lockstep (possibly in jack boots), as they race to the next scene to squash all hope of dissent. Okay, so a bit of hyperbole applied as my own frustration shows. I think I’m a little entitled.

“The church” is not “a church,” or ten churches, or a thousand. The church is countless millions, meeting separately across the states and the rest of the world each week. They meet at different times and places, preach different sermons, emphasize different projects, represent every conceivable background. The translations of scripture they use, and more recently even the scriptures they consider “valid,” vary enormously in church buildings less than a mile apart. What the author lists as the reasons people are leaving “the church,” apply to some churches greatly, some lightly, many not at all. Which leads me to my second, and really big, problem with the author’s position.

Once you get past the false gentleness and humility, strip it down to the rhetoric, you are left with self-serving whining and-… No, that’s pretty much it.

The article or posting or however you classify it is framed as a letter, but one that clearly expects or desires no reply. His words are crystal. Listen silently. Accept my judgment of you, but yield none of your own. And remember, I’m the one that’s leaving you. You failed me.

There is one passage in article that sounds so poignant, so plaintive, until you actually put it context. The author speaks about needing a church that is tough enough to demonstrate God’s love to the people it is failing, and because the church can’t, people like him are leaving. The irony would be hilarious if it were not so infuriating.

The church is not the building, it is the body of believers. If he and those he claims to represent have faith, and he says they do, then they are the church. So, if he and his kind are the church, and they are walking away because the church just isn’t “tough” enough, whose fault is that? Where is that toughness supposed to come from when people won’t hang around because it isn’t too their liking? And if they leave because they feel the people in the congregation aren’t tolerant, where are these tolerant people supposed to come from? If changes are going to be made, not in one building but in a million, how will that happen when a generation that claims to want positive change runs without ever putting in the effort it takes to make it?

I know that there are a lot of hurting people out there, I truly do. And I know that a lot of them come to church hoping to find a lot of things, things like hope and peace and joy. I’ve been there, and I sympathize. I also know that there are a lot of people out there, but they are looking for something different, something very much like magic. Or they are looking for a place where everyone is warm and caring and supportive and never cranky and I don’t know what else. I don’t think they’ll ever find it, but I’m pretty sure they won’t find in a church, at least not pre-Apocalypse.

When questioned why he fraternized with sinners one time, Christ replied that it was not well people who required a doctor, but those who were sick. Churches are not spiritual “well zones.” At their best, they are out-patient clinics, with the congregation making steady progress. If the author expects or hopes for anymore, then I would recommend that he roll up his sleeves and grab a bed pan. Frankly, I don’t think he will, but if he did he would be taking a really large step toward finding contentment in the church. He would be focusing on someone besides himself.

Failing in the New Year

I am a resolution failure.

It’s not a pleasant statement to make at the beginning of a new year, but those are the facts of the matter. My resolution at the beginning of last year was to average two blog entries a week, or a total of 104 blog entries. I accomplished 61, a little over half. Objective stated, attainable, and not achieved. Result: Fail.

I could say that there were unexpected circumstances, and that would be true up to a point. I could say that getting close to 60% was a lot better than going for a weeks and then giving up, and that would be true also, up to a point. But these truths, true up to a point, are beside the point: I said I would, and I didn’t. There are no reasons or excuses or circumstances that change that. I failed. So what now?

Failure is real. Some have come to not believe it. Shoot, for many society has moved heaven and earth to convince them there is no such thing. Failure is like the boogeyman, a scary story made up to frighten bad children (except, of course, which the idea of “bad children” is made up as well). Over the past three or four decades, I have watched as teachers and politicians and well-meaning friends have told those around them that any effort, no matter how small or half-hearted, was a work of genius, a master stroke. 

They told them and told them that they were good and noble and brilliant and could do no wrong. And those they told believed them. They believed them in such great numbers that any thought of failure became intolerable, therefore students lost all respect for teachers that challenged them. They believed that their judgment was infallible, so when the courts and juries disagreed with their wisdom, they took the streets and rioted. They believed that their morality was superior, so when they say others who had earned more, they closed down businesses and looted and used threats of extortion.

But despite all of the actions these “social giants” did take, there were a few that they never would.  They never took responsibility for their own lives and situations, for the classes they skipped, for the opportunities they simply passed by. And throughout all of the protesting and rioting and chanting, they never took responsibility for being part of the solution. Oh, a few did, here and there. But for the most part it was screaming to government or business or society to take away their problems, to make them go away. Do whatever it takes, but don’t ask us to change or accept responsibility for our own actions.

Don’t ask us to face our failures.

Well, I failed last year’s resolution. I’ll start this year by owning it, but not letting it own me. This year I have resolved to get a novel draft ready for review by the end of February. It’s a challenging goal, but it’s achievable. I just have to be able to summon a bit of that discipline that got away from me last year, and stay with it. 

I may make it, and I may not. Either way, I intend to improve old skills and hopefully develop new ones. I will challenge myself daily. I will strive for my best and accept the constructive comments of others not as attacks, but as sincere and needed assistance in this matter. And like this year, I may fail, but that will be okay. Not great, not good, but okay, because it is not our failures that define us. 

How we respond to our failures is what defines us. 

Last year is over. The “fail clock” is reset. Go out there and set some goals. Challenge yourself. If you fail, learn from it. If you succeed, then you have the cause for a real celebration. I’ll take that over a “Ribbon of Participation” any day of the week.