Church: Are we living as the body of Christ?

This, I’m writing based on my own personal experience.  I’m sure religious scholars could have plenty to say on these topics, under “laboratory” or “ideal” conditions, of course.  There is certainly a time and place for those empirical observations from historical visions, but the battle is here, in the real world, right now, and things haven’t gone perfectly according to plan, as is incredibly evident.  It is my opinion that the North American church would not be struggling to retain the ground it still holds after several decades of dwindling membership, had things gone according to plan (that is to assume that the plan includes the growth of the local church).

So, a bit of background, for context’s sake: my family went to an Anglican church for the first 11 years of my life, and I was baptized there at the age of 2 months (or something like that).  After some political situation in the Anglican church at that time, we uprooted and attended a Presbyterian church for 7 years until we moved out of town.  During this time, as I became more independent and autonomous, I began questioning different aspects of faith, and didn’t think church was relevant—it was ritualistic, and I didn’t understand the appeal or importance of that religiosity.  I think I still believed in God, or some form of higher power, I just didn’t understand why that entity would need to be pleased, and why on earth it would find a bunch of old people who would be dead within the decade chanting half-hearted liturgies pleasing… Was this the way that these older people had done it for all their lives, and were we young people supposed to jump on this slow-moving bandwagon heading out into the middle of nowhere just for the sake of carrying on the religion? No thank you, said teenage Helen.  While I was in university, my parents moved and began attending another Presbyterian church that housed a considerably older and more religious congregation.  That drew me even farther away from the church, but I was in university and had more important things to do, like partying…

After a series of events, I found myself seeking Christian community on campus in 3^rd year, and became connected with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship (IVCF), where I met Jesus, dove into the Word and learned more about the Kingdom of God than I had every Sunday for 20 years.  It puzzled me so much: how could I have attended church for nearly my entire life, and known so little about God and his kingdom, and never committed myself to Christ?  How had I gone from “church is stupid” to “I’m answering God’s call to mission in Bangladesh” to preaching sermons in church in less than a year? HOW?!

The answers still elude me.  My parents recently moved again, to another town, and this past Sunday (actually, like 6 weeks ago or something, I've been picking away at this piece for a while) the church that they have attended for the last 4 years requested all of our family members be present so they could give us a final farewell (the cutest!).  This summer the church has been going through the “Top 40 Hymns” as named by viewers of the BBC program, Songs of Praise, and each Sunday they sing 4 or 5 of them and one of them is chosen as the theme for the sermon.  I thought it was a pretty lame way to try and incorporate some pop-culture into the aging congregation, but actually, since many of the hymns are based on scripture, it has been fairly refreshing and back-to-basics, which I feel like all churches need, but particularly the high church.  Anyway, this Sunday the hymn that was preached on was “Just as I am”.  This hymn describes God’s willingness and delight to accept us as we are through all our doubts and imperfections—great message, no arguments there.  This hymn was described as the greatest altar-call hymn of all time.  The minister had to ask with a show of hands how many people in the congregation knew what an altar-call was: 3.  Three people knew, so the minister explained the nature of the altar-call: at the end of a worship service, people are invited to come forward and commit or recommit their lives to Christ and to receive prayer.  The minister was very clear in the sermon: “we don’t do altar-calls in the Presbyterian church”, which I understood, as "altar-calls are kind of a more charismatic/fundamentalist thing, and the high church is not exactly charismatic, or fundamentalist".   Then the minister went on to describe Canadian Presbyterian youth conference he had chaperoned in the 1990s, where the organizers had made an agreement with the guest speaker that he wouldn’t do any altar-calls because it would scare the children. I had problems with that:

1)      If something scares you, usually some of that element of fear stems from a lack of familiarity, and such fear promotes avoidance and a lack of understanding.  If we are going to live as the kingdom of God, we need to recognize that we have different traditions as Christians between denominations, and embrace and celebrate, or at least get to know these different traditions, recognizing them as of the same faith.  What better time to make this introduction than at a young age, when people are clean slates, not yet too jaded by sour experiences.

2)      FOLLOWING JESUS IS SCARY. Let’s just call that like it is.

3)      The questions of commitment: How, if at all, were these young people encouraged to commit their lives to Christ, and what do Presbyterians, and other traditions for that matter, believe to be the protocol for committing oneself to Christ?  Even deeper, if people are not committing themselves to Christ, how can there be any hope for raising up future generations of Christians, or creating new believers—how has this church been sustaining itself under these principles?  Does anyone believe that this method of non-committance is sustainable for the faith of individuals or the church as a whole? If so, why/how?  If not, are there any proposed changes, and what can we do about it?

The last question lingered in my head for an uncomfortably long time.  Earlier that week I had been sitting in my parents’ house, reading the Presbyterian Record that had been left on the coffee table.  It was littered with articles, editorials, letters, and reflections outlining the recently-passed general assembly, and how many parties left disgruntled that those at the conference were unable to discern whether or not Presbyterianism is still a relevant denomination in Canada, and how the conference-goers seemed to be more interested in talking amongst themselves to discern this, rather than praying and listening for the Lord.

The way I understand it (feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, that’s happened before, I won’t explode): In Catholic and Anglican (and Lutheran?) churches, your parents have you baptized as an infant through the sprinkling of water (although being baptized later in life is possible in lower traditions), you learn about the faith for a few years, and when you’re about 13 you have a confirmation ceremony, where you affirm your belief in God and the resurrection, publicly professing your faith.  I don’t believe confirmation is mandated for all people of that age bracket, but if you have peers in your church or go to Catholic school or are not yet autonomous from your family at that age, I can see how confirmation can become a pressure test rather than an act of genuine faith.

The Low Church (keep in mind, this is an enormous generalization, mainly based upon my own recollections and observations) largely abstains from baptizing individuals until they are cognizant enough to make a commitment to Christ (i.e. adult baptism, many by immersion as opposed to the sprinkling on the forehead used by much of the high church).   I understand the rationale behind this to be manifold: an individual is owning this big, life-changing decision rather than having their parents or guardians make it for them; the principles for adult immersion baptisms are derived rather directly from the Bible, whereas the argument for infant baptisms appears to be much more indirect, implied, or embedded in one’s own conviction; baptism is a public declaration of an individual choosing to follow Jesus, and due to the public nature of this declaration, accountability and support for the baptizee are facilitated.

Then, there’s the grey area of the Presbyterian and Reformed churches (among other denominations); they do infant baptisms with sprinkling, or adult baptisms by immersion, as well as professions of faith: the professing individual shares a snippet of their testimony and, for lack of a better term, professes their faith in front of the congregation. I’ve seen this happen primarily in the late teen years, but I have no reason to believe that it can’t happen at other times in one’s life or faith journey.

There seems to be this multi-standard thing going on of ways you come to belong to a church.  Divisions exist between whom is committing the individual to Christ and striving to provide a nurturing, Christ-centred environment (the parents or the individual) as well as how that commitment takes place, and at what age.

Commitment: can we talk about that for a sec? I’ve heard the language before of “daily surrendering” of certain aspects of one’s life: habits, vices, wellbeing, thought patterns, etc. to God. I’d argue that we need daily recommitment of ourselves to Christ, and daily reminders of why we began to follow Jesus so that we may fall in love all over again and continue to desire that pull deeper into pursuit of Shalom in his kingdom—“rebirth”, as it were. I do have an extremely short attention span, but I’d wager that a one-time commitment as a teenager isn’t grounds for a sustainable, active faith in Christ for people like me, as well as those with much larger attention spans. What does the church believe about this? It seems to be a different answer according to a number of different factors, including: denomination, governing body (assembly, convention, diocese, etc.), church leadership, and individual members. I feel like all would agree, however, on some level, that there has to be action accompanying the commitment to Christ—it isn’t just, “yay, commitment, home free, I’ve bought my salvation and now there’s nothing else on the earth left for me to do, see you in the next life, God”… Of course, some churches are better at mentoring, nurturing, inspiring, and motivating that action than others, but I think it’s something that all churches and individuals can and should strive to improve. (Here I am on my soap box, pointing out the speck in my neighbour’s eye…)

Another thing that we as the church need to be mindful of are the associations and judgments we make upon individuals attached to a particular group, denominational or otherwise. I mean, when I go to a Presbyterian church with my parents and people find out that I go to a nondenominational church where we sing praise songs with a worship band and our pastor has full sleeve tattoos, they seem disappointed (ick face!), and make me feel like I’ve picked the wrong church because it’s different than what their ideal church would be. “Oh, you go to one of those churches” is a phrase I hear all too often—what does that even mean?! By the same token, when people ask me about how I came to faith, or about what my church background is, I don’t like mentioning the Anglican church, just because I’ve seen my peers raise some red flags (and have raised some myself) about the theology of some Anglicans. Then as soon as I mention the word “Presbyterian” the eyebrows start going up because it sounds more like a nationality or new-age sexual orientation or classification than a religious sect. And then the “how did you end up here?”s start making their way out, so I mention that I met Jesus as a university fellowship student after 18 years of weekly church and 2 of running away from church, and that I’d never even heard that term, “meeting Jesus”, until university. My story confuses people; it’s not the black and white “I-was-born-and-bred-in-the-church-and-everything-was-perfect-so-I’ve-always-been-here-and-never-left”, or “I’d-never-been-to-church-and-was-a-total-sinner-but-one-day-I-met-some-Christian-friends-and-they-introduced-me-to-Jesus-and-he-helped-me-turn-my-life-around”, although those are both wonderful stories. It’s grey, and confusing, and I don’t even know what happened, or why, or where I belong—but I have been given this incredibly unique perspective that allows me to see so many nooks and crannies of the modern church; ways that it works, and ways that it doesn’t work; things it does well, and things it does not do well; areas where it is serving its members or clientele, and areas where it is serving the Lord. This gift of perspective is something that I believe God has used, and wishes to continue to use for the edification of the body of Christ that is the church. This is not to say that he has not gifted others in this way and that he will use them for the same purpose and other purposes, nor that my sole purpose in life, or the only way he has gifted me and will use me is buried within this idea.

The perfect church absolutely does not exist.  Many people when searching for a church home are looking for a community that supports and feeds their spiritual growth and wellbeing.  There’s nothing wrong with this, as ultimately, we all are seeking righteousness (righteousness = right-relatedness) and closeness with God, and it that relationship seems much more easily cultivated in a place where we feel his presence, whatever that looks like.  However, we must not forget that worship is not about us. Community is not about us. Church is not about us. All of the above are ways through which we love God and seek righteousness with him, and not with ourselves. Worship is speaking the truth about who God is.  Community is extending love to God’s children as he has loved each of us. Church is practicing being the body of Christ by combining these two things. Church is about the LORD. When people make these offhanded comments and funny faces as we talk about my upbringing or present whereabouts concerning church (“one of those churches” or the “ick!” face), I believe it comes from a place of wondering either “how does what they are doing in that place fit into my construction of ‘church’?” or “how can you meet the Lord in that place?!” The first question has already been nullified: the perfect or ideal church does not exist because it is not about us or what we want, but about the worship and kingdom of God. The second question is also void: how can one meet the Lord in any place? It isn’t up to the physical body of a particular church to provide satisfying interaction with the Lord to individuals because the church isn’t in place to serve us.  The church is the body of Christ, and we are there to worship and serve God; the church as an institution does not exist for our satisfaction, enjoyment, or validation.

All of this being said, there are points at which it is more than reasonable for individuals to make the decision to leave a church, especially when its actions or behaviours are not in line with the teachings of Christ. There are certain aspects of some churches my family or I have attended that I’ve absolutely loathed, but those churches are certainly not without their merits.  They were indeed places where I felt loved, at home, and learned the foundations of the faith. Likewise, any church or community I can choose to be a part of now or in the future is not and will not be without its downsides.

“As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions. One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for GOD HAS WELCOMED HIM. Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand.” –Romans 14:1-4 ESV, emphasis mine

Paul was actually talking about food here, but the theme of not judging or condemning other Christians for their practices of worship or prayer is a common theme throughout the gospels and the epistles of the early church.  The early church members were much like us, in that they didn’t always take this message to heart. I was reading Jeremiah 31 the other day, and it was like déjà vu as an entire year of studying and leading scripture through the gospel of John flashed before my eyes as Jeremiah is prophesying that Israel shall be rebuilt (indeed it was—but not like they were expecting) and that they would plant vineyards on the mountains of Samaria (maybe literally, but definitely metaphorically when you look at John 15)… Yes, God is for us as individuals, but he has not raised us one above the other; there is no “us and them”—just us. Jesus flattened the hills and raised the valleys so that there wouldn’t be an “us and them”, and that is something that we should make our worship about because it is absolutely revolutionary—it can’t always be about “Jesus you are so great because you saved me and died for my sins so that I may have eternal life with you and it’s so amazing that you would do this for me because I am so unworthy…” Don’t get me wrong—the fact that Jesus paid the ultimate price as atonement for our sins is absolutely greater than any verbal description that any human can assign to it. It is the gospel (good news) of atonement and foundational to the Christian faith.  We cannot, however, be Pharisees and use that atonement as an excuse to be elitist and create another “us, the saved” and “them, the unsaved” construction as a framework for how we associate with others. That is exactly what Jesus instructed the Jews NOT to do during his time of ministry! Yes, Jesus died, but he also lived, and we cannot continue to regularly polish his death up on a pedestal while his life and teachings sit on the floor, collecting dust. Ev’ry valley shall be exalted, and the rough places plain. (#HandelsMessiah #musicnerdmoment)

Churches are run by fallen, fragile, fallible humans, and by that virtue alone will never measure up to the perfection of Christ, the head of the church. We can strive though, and reach, and come closer all the time (but never touch—Jesus is like an asymptote that way). We are never going to be like Jesus in the way that we will never have to die as atonement for the sins of others (i.e., we are not the literal sons and daughters of God, as Jesus was), but we can put forth our utmost to love and serve one another in the name of Jesus.

If I was to hypothetically boil down all of the last 3000 words of convoluted statements into one final paragraph: What we get from church isn’t nearly as important as what we do there and outside, so we shouldn’t go shopping for a church with a checklist of objectives of things we are expecting to gain for ourselves in a particular community, without a larger checklist of ways we can love and serve the Lord and his people in that place. Worship is telling the truth about who God is, and is not for our benefit, so to speak. Commitment to Christ should be viewed as a commitment to living as he lived, and such a commitment should be lovingly encouraged among churchgoers. All churches have their strengths and weaknesses, and none is perfect, but with good, Christ-centred leadership and community, all should strive to become a bride worthy and reflective of Jesus. Instead of continuing to divide ourselves as the body of Christ through our own personal ideas and preferences of what church should be, while judging and condemning other groups for holding different views, we ought to put the petty differences aside, get back to basics, and allow our King to reign, with his gospel.