Home Repair

Still.
Small.
Silent.

These three words that have held my heart in place this past year as I mourn the loss of my community and consider what it means to have a church “home.” A year ago, I left my church “home” of seven years. The reasons are complex and lengthy, but I knew to stay in that “home” I would compromise my understanding of the reconciliatory work Christ accomplished through His divinely ordained birth, life, death, resurrection, and ascension. I was not willing to do that, so I walked out the church doors into the “wilderness.”

Being in the “wilderness” provides time to be still, small, and silent, to wonder and wander, to question and explore. One area that’s captured my attention is the language used around church membership. For example, “I love my church home,” “I love my church family,” or “Everyone is welcome. You’ll find a home here,” are all common phrases used. But what does this even mean, and more importantly is that God’s intent for the Church?

Categorically, American churches are homogeneous populations. The pews and chairs are filled with people who are more alike than different. Indeed, churches typically cater toward a particular demographic, whether that’s theologically, socioeconomically, generationally, ethnically, and/or racially.[1] When people gather they agree to the “Statements of Faith” and to the hierarchical structures in place; they agree to accept the way scriptures are read, communion is taken, and songs are sung. There are “parents” (church leadership) and “children” (congregation members) and there are “chores” (ministry) that must be developed, executed, and maintained. And this is all done in relationship with one another for a common purpose, which in turn provides a sense of identity and belonging. Furthermore, all of this happens within the confines of a physical structure that requires significant resources and labor to maintain. So church is both a gathering of people and a building. Therefore, in many ways our churches do feel like “home.”

It’s interesting that Jesus didn’t model such a life for us. In fact, around the age of 30 Jesus stepped away from the religious structures of the day to do the work He was divinely created to do. Did Jesus lament the rote worship and lifeless ministry found in the Jewish synagogues of His day? Did He lament the ways the patriarchal and hierarchal systems routinely marginalized the widow, the orphan, and the alien? I wonder if His heart broke each time God’s Word was read and interpreted in a way that catered to the desires of those in leadership rather than bringing healing and hope to the people of God? Though Jesus found solace in his early years in His father’s house (Luke 2:49), adult Jesus did not find his “home” in the synagogues of the day. I’ve wondered why.  

Jesus began his years of ministry in the wilderness where he experienced being still in the wait, small in the space, and silent in the solitude.  In the wilderness, Jesus found His true “home,” as he learned to fully abide in His Father’s love and will. In the wilderness, through weakness and temptation, Jesus’ identity, perspective, and purpose were forged as he learned to trust God to quench his thirst and satisfy his hunger. In the wilderness, Jesus had space for dreams and desires to grow so the Kingdom of Heaven could be realized on earth.

After leaving the wilderness, Jesus and His diverse group of followers were mobile. Living attentive to His Father’s leading, through word and action, Jesus revealed the Kingdom of Heaven to Jew and Gentile, rich and poor, males and females, and masters and slaves. His ministry was fluid, flexible, and counter-cultural.

Following Jesus comes with a cost; it requires leaving behind what we know to step into the unknown. If this is how Jesus lived, how can we claim to follow Jesus when we are building earthly “homes” in our churches, filled with homogeneous populations of Christians, which have led to division and strife, red and blue Christians, as well as hundreds of denominations? “If a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand” (Mark 3:25). One quick scroll through social media confirms this crumbling reality.

I’m not against the Church. In fact, I believe a healthy and whole Church reveals the hope of Christ to the world. I just believe we have a ways to go to become healthy and whole, and I don’t think we can get there by doing church the way we’ve been doing it these past generations. Do I have all the answers? No. But I’m willing to ask the hard questions and seek God for the answers. 

Albert Einstein once said, “We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.” If we truly want to live and love like Jesus, we have to begin by stepping into the wilderness to become still, small, and silent, allowing ourselves space to lament the homogeneous religious homes we have created.  We must reimagine church so that it functions more as a way station, helping individuals move out to the margins, reach across the boundaries, and sit beside others, rather than condemn, isolate, and infuriate a population of people longing for identity, belonging, and love. Such things can only be realized by abiding in Christ, our True Home, for apart from Him, we can do nothing.

[1] For further insight read Michael Emerson and Christian Smith’s Divided by Faith: Evangelical Religion and the Problem with Race in America. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2000.