As
I get older, I feel like God is working a softening process on me. Some might
say that I’m just wearing rose-colored glasses more often, but I think it’s
more than that, at least I hope it is. Over time I’ve come to lots of
realizations, mostly through bible study and prayer, and I like to think that
slowly, God is knocking the rough edges off me a little. It seems I don’t know
everything, and I’m not perfect, and not everything I think is right. Who knew? :)
It
was in this softened frame of mind that I found myself this weekend as I
wandered through the basement of the little church I grew up in. My oldest
friend was getting married and the wedding was going to be in our church. I’d
been sent on a normal errand for the matron of honor, go get the groom’s ring
so I could carry it through the ceremony. The fastest way to get from where the
bride and her attendants were gathered to where I knew the boys were gathered
was through the basement. It’s been awhile since I wandered the basement, but I
knew exactly where to go, even though most of the lights were off.
I
realized as I walked that I knew every inch of this church, from the Sunday
School rooms to the Fellowship Hall to kitchen to the gym to the basement. I
even know some of the ductwork (little girls can be very inventive when they’re
hiding so they can skip choir). I know all the secret rooms - the rooms where
you can access the organ pipes, the room with the controls to chime the bells,
the back way into the Baptistery, the control room for the TV broadcast. But
for a long time, even though I’m real familiar with the layout, I’ve not
thought of myself as really a part of this church. To be honest I considered
myself above it. I judged it. Being a part of a church as long as we have,
there are bound to be good times and bad times. But when you’re in jr. high and
high school and you are the smartest person that has ever walked the earth, you
tend to only notice the bad. Not every experience I had at that church was
good. I experienced some judgment and some meanness. Though that time is not generally
at the forefront in my mind when I visit the church, it’s remained in the back
of it for too many years. I realized this weekend, as I walked through the
halls in a softened state of mind, that for holding on to the hurt for all these years, I’ve been a fool. I’ve been the man
with a plank in my eye trying to point out the splinters in others.
Beth
Moore likes to say that if you find a perfect church, and you walk in the front
door, you just ruined it. The church can’t be perfect because people can’t be perfect.
I have been every bit as judgmental, maybe more so, as others have been to me.
I am not better than anyone. Quite
frankly, I am very, very lucky to have been a member of such a beautiful
congregation. This weekend my friend walked down the central aisle in our
beautiful sanctuary surrounded by stained glass windows and polished wooden pews that are way older than
we are. That sanctuary has played a huge role in my life. I was dedicated as a baby up on
that stage. I walked down that aisle to give my life to Christ when I was 10
years old. I was baptized there. I was married there. Every major milestone in
my walk with Christ has been in that church. It can’t have been all bad if it
represents all those memories for me. In fact, it must have been mostly good.
The people of that church have loved on me and my family for at least 34 years
that I know of, and longer than that if you ask my parents. No, it wasn’t always
perfect, but who among us is?
In
my grown up years I have learned a lot about myself and I hope that I continue
to learn. I have judged. I have been petty. I have been mean. If anyone has
done those things to me, then they are no different than I am. We are all
flawed and I think that’s why we need each other. I have also been supportive.
I have loved. I have been a friend. So many others have done those things for
me, too. The whole is more beautiful than the pieces sometimes. If we can hang
on and just remember that love can cover anything, then someday our
children may walk through the halls of the buildings we call the church, and
realize that it is also their home. They may remember Sunday School and VBS and
Wednesday night dinner. They may remember baby dedications and baptisms and
church camp and choir. They may be so comfortable with a place that they know
every nook and cranny. They may attend the wedding of a friend and have their
neck hugged by people who have known then since they were born, and hear them
say, “It’s good to see you.” They may know what it is to belong to the body of Christ.
No,
the church is not perfect, but it shouldn’t be, because then it would not be a
true representation of those of us who walk its’ halls. We wouldn’t learn to both forgive, and to ask to be forgiven. There would be no reason for us to join together, if we all
already knew everything we need to know. I think that Jesus knew what he was
doing when he told us to band together and worship Him. He knew we’d be better together - that others would make up for our shortcomings and vice versa, and that
community in His name would teach us how to truly love. I’ll forever be
grateful that he plunked me down in a small church in a small town that
nurtured my every milestone, and stands ready to welcome me home anytime I
visit. What a blessing.
“Keep
watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you
overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which
he bought with his own blood.” Acts 20:28
"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13:33-35
