I realize “Church” conjures up some hard things for many people, but imagine an olive-skinned woman who hasn’t aged at all. Her mature face boldly stares into mine. We’re seated at a table and suddenly the ambient clatter dies like someone turned down the volume. While she’s absolutely timeless, there’s a weariness around her eyes. Her hands twist in her lap. It’s then I see the crusted dirt and blood all over what must have been a beautiful ancient linen robe. My heart sinks as I see the political stickers like bandaids holding rips closed. I want to ask her so many things but in my imagination, she sits there, mute. So I write her a letter.
Dear Church,
It must have been amazing back at the beginning. In fact, it’s all people want to talk about these days. So many books about the “Early Church” have been written that it’s a wonder how there’s any market at all.
“Let’s go back to the days of Acts” they say. This is usually followed up with some idea that it must have been like a hippie commune or something.
“If we can just get back to that simplicity…” As if it’s that simple. My suspicion is people are the problem. Maybe not right away but eventually, we bring our baggage and muddy up the waters.
But back then? I bet it must have felt like being at the beginning of the greatest experiment of all time. Can this group of people from such vastly different cultures coexist? But the miracle of it all wasn’t the coexisting. It was the fact that they went beyond and showed the most incredible love for each other. I read the stories and still wonder at the layers of hardship and persecution they endured. Yet in my culture of 21st century America, the churches I’ve been part of snagged on the most imbecilic things.
However, the thing about time is that it never stops. Just as you never stopped. In fact, the more Rome (and many others after) tried to eradicate you, the faster you spread. Though Constantine had a strange effect. One would think that easing up on the persecution would make you flourish.
However, when following Jesus became easy, the Christians shifted from how to love and encourage each other to how can I be encouraged.
I’ve seen it in my own life. When the road is steep and filled with uncertainty, I find I can almost touch Jesus’ hand yet I’m concerned with helping and serving from that place of tenderness with Him. However, when a smooth path is laid out in front of me and it appears things are falling into place like I’d hoped, my focus shifts inward. It’s a disturbing trend. And our inherently self-focused culture can’t see the danger.
Nor the danger of history-blindness. Our modern era tends to go back only as far as the Reformation preferring to shroud everything prior in a dark morass of “Medieval Times”. As if the Church was hidden and Christ was silent. But you were indeed alive and women found their places serving, leading, and (dare I say it) preaching!
Over the 44 years I’ve spent with you, I’ve sampled a few of the denominations that splintered off from the Reformation.
There was the Bible Church. Some tend to be more Independent Fundamental than others. They’re very passionate independent people focused on evangelism.
Then there are the variety of Baptists. They can be very rigid and compartmentalized, equally focused on evangelism like the Bible churches. Underneath that passion, those in charge tend to be determined to keep power at the top.
The Non-Denominational variety? Let’s just call it what it is: Baptist 2.0 dressed up in trendy graphics with a noun-centered name generally meeting in a warehouse of some kind.
Currently I’m immersed in the Reformed variety – very historical and catechism-oriented. Kind and welcoming to a point, but as with any group, prefers those already inside. Though I have to say, out of all the churches I’ve been in, I prefer this one far above the others.
Small, midsized, or megachurch, it doesn’t matter. I’ve never truly belonged. I volunteered, led Children’s Ministry, taught Kindergarten, led Bible studies, and did all the things I thought I should. Now as a woman in my mid-forties, I really don’t fit.
I don’t know if it’s just the ridiculously loyal oldest daughter in me or what, but I’m still with you, Church. Jesus set you in motion and who am I to undermine His Bride.
But I’ve got some massive concerns.
1. Women in church leadership has not one thing to do with feminism. The Bible notes many women leading the church. Also the Medieval time period as well. Women were following Jesus to preach and lead when it was simply stopped and their roles of leadership arbitrarily taken away. The image of God is two-sided: male and female. Both. Together. Men and women both bring different things and must both contribute or you, dear Church, suffer.
2. John Calvin formulated his Institutes as a massive reaction to another’s theology. I think we can all agree that when one reacts, one *might* not get everything quite right. I’m guessing even now, he’s probably realizing he was off on a few things. Maybe we need to dial back on TULIP.
3. And while I’m on the topic, let’s stop elevating the Puritans for heaven’s sake. They were a hot mess. Some of them might be worth noting but just because a Puritan wrote something doesn’t mean it needs to be quoted.
4. Those of us in the Reformed realm have been holding firm against the waves of culture, but we’ve neglected compassion for those in it. We’re so afraid of being seen as sullied by the culture we’ve become like those for which Jesus had the most disdain: Pharisees. The challenge is always: IN the world but not OF it.
5. In the process, we have neglected the children most of all. They have no idea how to think both critically and biblically. We’ve only told them what to think and believe.They don’t know how each of the Bible stories point to Jesus. But in order to correct this, we as adults have to dive into our own hot mess of beliefs and reevaluate.
6. And how does one reevaluate one’s beliefs? Don’t flinch from asking the hard and unyielding questions. Nothing can be considered taboo. Somehow (especially in the Reformed tradition) the asking of questions has become synonymous with doubting and giving up on faith. That is the absolute furthest thing from the truth. Questions simply mean that your mind has now moved to see beyond the limitations you previously accepted.
“Aslan” said Lucy “you’re bigger.”
“That is because you are older, little one” answered he.
“Not because you are?”
“I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.”― Prince Caspian
This is one of the most reassuring quotes in all of Lewis’ Narnia books. The deep comfort of knowing we can never come to the end of Yahweh no matter how much we learn, grow or understand. He is bigger and always deeper.
Now in my imagination, I see tears slide down her face as she looks down at her dingy robes. Her dark eyes plead with me. And suddenly John’s words in Revelation slam back in my mind about the pure white linen the Church clothes herself with being the righteous deeds of the saints. And the weight falls heavy on me.
I’m part of this. I lean over and peel off a donkey-shaped star-spangled sticker and glimpse the widening tear underneath.
Caring for her is less about “making programs happen” and far more about showing The Real Jesus who touched the unclean and spent time with social pariahs.
It’s the preeminence of discipleship over sermons.
It’s inviting others over when your house isn’t cute or you don’t have a fancy meal planned because someone somewhere has to finally drop the mask so others can sigh “Oh yes. Me too.”
It’s saying “I don’t have all the answers, but I follow the One who does.”
It’s holding Yahweh’s words close and inviting others to join you.
It’s sitting with the disaster that is this world and lamenting together.
I reach out and take her calloused hands. My concerns are still waiting unaddressed and maybe they never will be, but she matters. She always has.
I simply know this is the next right step.
