Church Matters*

The passing of Ronald Reagan has brought about interesting discussions about the role Christianity played in shaping his political life. The consensus seems to be that Mr. Reagan was defined by his faith, perhaps not as overtly as our current President, but in no less impactful ways. This is proper and commendable, in my view; a faith that doesn’t work in demonstrable ways in your life is, as James wrote, dead.

In the discussion about Reagan’s faith, it has been noted that he wasn’t generally known as a “church-goer.” I’d like to expound further on this idea. But first I’d like to excerpt a timely article from Friday’s Wall Street Journal, one of those offering details about Reagan’s spiritual life:

The reason for Mr. Reagan’s discontinuation of his church attendance has paradoxical roots in the same reason church attendance is critical for a Christian: he loved the Church, just as Jesus Christ loved it. Why do I say that? Because he was willing to put aside his personal desires in order to serve, care for and accommodate his fellow believers.

The Church is the body of Christ, established by Him on earth for the express purpose of doing “Kingdom work.” Every believer is granted automatic, irrevocable, full-privilege-and-standing membership upon acceptance of God’s free gift of salvation through His Son. It’s thus puzzling to me why so many Christians refuse to exercise the privileges (or accept the responsibilities) that come with that membership.

What else does Jesus love that we are so routinely and vehemently critical of?

How do I know that Jesus loved the Church (and I’m not just writing about “the Church” as a concept, but also about specific local churches and congregations…those with street addresses and websites and actual human pastors)? Well, for one thing, isn’t it telling that some of His last recorded words of encouragement, instruction, admonishment and even warning were to seven specific churches in the part of the world referred to 2,000 years ago as Asia? Read chapters 2 and 3 in the book of Revelation and you’ll see that Jesus was not only interested in the concept of the Church, but in the functioning of it. Seven times He says “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.” I find it instructive that Jesus cared enough about churches to speak to seven of them in the same communication in which He gives us possibly the most important words ever written (and certainly the most hope-inspiring), “Yes, I am coming soon.

Associating with a local congregation is not just about finding a vehicle for praise and worship of God; after all, we can (and frequently should) do that by ourselves. It is about associating with our adopted brothers and sisters in order to be accountable, to receive instruction and encouragement, to pool resources and talents to do good work, and to learn to love one another more by learning to love God more.

That last phrase is worth repeating: learn to love others more by learning to love God more. I sometimes think many people avoid associating with a local church because they don’t think they’ll like the people who are already there. Here’s a newsflash: you probably won’t, at first. Churches are just chock-full of sinful, immoral impure people, people who will disappoint and anger…in other words, people just like you. And the most beautiful, inspiring, God-pleasing thing you can do is to learn to love ’em, bless their hearts and pointy little heads. And the only way I know to do that is to (1) let God love ’em through you while (2) getting to know who they really are…getting involved with their lives and letting them get involved with yours.

“How icky!” you might be thinking…and, of course, you’re right. Life is icky, sometimes. Church life should mirror “real” life.

I’ve referred in the past to Anne Lamott’s wonderful Traveling Mercies – Some Thoughts on Faith, and the following passage illustrates my point. It’s a tad long, but stick with it.

One of our newest [church] members, a man named Ken Nelson, is dying of AIDS, disintegrating before our very eyes. He came in a year ago with a Jewish woman who comes every week to be with us, although she does not believe in Jesus. Shortly after the man with AIDS started coming, his partner died of the disease. A few weeks later Ken told us that right after Brandon died, Jesus had slid into the hole in his heart that Brandon’s loss left, and had been there ever since. Ken has a totally lopsided face, ravaged and emaciated, but when he smiles, he is radiant. He looks like God’s crazy nephew Phil. He says that he would gladly pay any price for what he has now, which is Jesus, and us.

There’s a woman in the choir named Ranola who is large and beautiful and jovial and black and as devout as can be, who has been a little standoffish toward Ken. She has always looked at him with confusion, when she looks at him at all. Or she looks at him sideways, as if she wouldn’t have to quite see him if she didn’t look at him head on. She was raised in the South by Baptists who taught her that his way of life — that he — was an abomination. It is hard for her to break through this. I think she and a few other women at church are, on the most visceral level, a little afraid of catching the disease. But Kenny has come to church almost every week for the last year and won almost everyone over. He finally missed a couple of Sundays when he got too weak, and then a month ago he was back, weighing almost no pounds, his face even more lopsided, as if he’d had a stroke. Still, during the prayers of the people, he talked joyously of his life and his decline, of grace and redemption, of how safe and happy he feels these days.

So on this one particular Sunday, for the first hymn, the so-called Morning Hymn, we sang “Jacob’s Ladder,” which goes, “Every rung goes higher, higher,” while ironically Kenny couldn’t even stand up. But he sang away sitting down, with the hymnal in his lap. And then when it came time for the second hymn, the Fellowship Hymn, we were to sing “His Eye Is on the Sparrow.” The pianist was playing and the whole congregation had risen — only Ken remained seated, holding the hymnal in his lap — and we began to sing, “Why should I feel discouraged? Why do the shadows fall?” And Ranola watched Ken rather skeptically for a moment, and then her face began to melt and contort like his, and she went to his side and bent down to lift him up — lifted up this white rag doll, this scarecrow. She held him next to her, draped over and against her like a child while they sang. And it pierced me.
…
He looked like a child who was singing simply because small children sing all the time — they haven’t made the separation between speech and music. Then both Ken and Ranola began to cry. Tears were pouring down their faces, and their noses were running like rivers, but as she held him up, she suddenly lay her black weeping face against his feverish white one, put her face right up against his and let all those spooky fluids mingle with hers.”

I believe that Ronald Reagan would understand perfectly. He understood that God made people for Himself, and for each other, and He made the Church for the same reasons. He never intended for Christianity to be a monologue; His heart is to hear the jangled, dischordant, joyfully-flawed choir of kindred spirits assembled in His Name. That, folks, is Church, and I’ll never understand why any follower of Christ would not want to be a part of it.

*The title of this post, “Church Matters,” is actually the name of a sermon series begun just this morning by our pastor. It’s a wonderful title, and seemed to perfectly fit with this topic. Hearing it was affirmation of the timeliness of the ongoing discussions.