Two Big Lies of Church Work - Whose Church Are We Building?

    I’ve seen it before in all kinds of churches.  It seems to be everywhere.  “It” is the attitude that many Christians have about our most basic purpose, about why we are here, and why we do what we do.  We agree that it all belongs to God and we are building God’s church, but that isn’t what I’m getting at.  What I’m asking is why do we bother investing our time and effort?  Many Christians believe one of two lies and although no one would admit it, our actions betray us.

    The first lie is that we are building our parents’ or grandparents’ church.  Again, we would deny it if you asked, but you will notice that we invest our effort in building an edifice that looks and feels just like the church we grew up in.  Nothing changes and everything looks like it always did because this makes us feel all warm and cozy and comfortable inside. 

    The second lie is that we are building a church for ourselves.  This church may not look like the one we grew up in, but this is the church we always daydreamed about when we were kids.  We didn’t like the music that our parents sang; we didn’t like the rituals that they used, or whatever.  In our daydreams we imagined what it would be like to go to a church had our music and our rituals.  And so now, as responsible adults, we set out to build the church that we imagined.

These ideas are wrong.

    Remember Moses?  Moses went to Egypt, brought freedom to his people, and led them for forty years in the wilderness.  Moses spoke with God and brought the law and the commandments.  

But the goal was to enter the Promised Land. 

    Moses never made it.  Moses watched as the people he taught, and the leaders that he trained, left to take possession of the land.  Moses’ entire life was dedicated to building something that he never saw with his own eyes.

    What about King David?  David brought the Tabernacle home and desired to build a Temple for God.  David’s was known as a “man after God’s own heart,” and wanted to build a Temple where God could take up residence. 

But God refused. 

    And so, instead of building a temple for the Lord, David planned for the future.  He purchased and stored building supplies, sought out the world’s best artisans, hired the best architects and builders that could be found, acquired rare and valuable building materials, and stockpiled precious metals.  All for a project that he would never see.

David’s efforts were intended for future generations.

    These examples mean something.  When we work in the church, we must remember that the goal is not our own comfort.  Our mission is not just to be disciples, but to make disciples. We are not called to build a place where we will feel comfortable.  We spend ourselves for those who have not yet heard the Good News.  We are building a place of healing and hope for outcasts, strangers, and foreigners.  Our church must be a place where the least and the lost can feel welcome and at home. 

No, we are not building our grandparents’ church.

We are building a church for our grandchildren.

Re-evaluating the things we value

Our house in in chaos.

No matter where you turn there are piles of stuff everywhere and even higher piles of boxes. Of course, we're moving. I suppose I'm thankful that we're not moving across the country or overseas, but once everything is in the back of a truck I don't know that distance matters too much.

For the last six years I have had the distinct pleasure of being the pastor of two churches in Central Ohio, Johnsville Grace and Steam Corners. As a pastor in the United Methodist Church, I (and my colleagues) serve as an itinerant minister. That means that I don't have to find a church where I can be in ministry and it means that local churches don't have to conduct extensive pastor searches when they feel the need for change. It also means that we have to move when the bishop says we should move (there's a little wiggle room in there, but not much). The end result is that after a series of meetings and interviews, my family and I are moving to Barnesville, Ohio and on July 1st, I will become the pastor of Barnesville First United Methodist Church.

Moving sucks pond water.

I despise the hassle of packing and changing schools, doctors, grocery stores, pharmacies and uprooting nearly every aspect of my life. On the other hand, I have begun to see an unexpected value in moving. Moving causes me to re-evaluate the last six years of my life. I have had to reexamine my call to ministry, the engineering career that I left behind, and I've had to take a hard look at what I have accomplished where I am. When we move our belongings, we take a look at a lot of stuff that never got a second glance most days and we need to decide if these things are worth keeping. In the same way, I find that I need to do these things with my ministry. In six years I have done a lot of stuff and I have met with a lot of people. Some of that stuff, and some of those memories are real gold but, like my stuff at home, mixed in with my treasure is a fair amount of useless baggage that I need to leave behind.

The process of getting rid of my kids outgrown clothes and broken toys is useful and something we probably ought to do once in a while. It's too easy to stuff things in the basement or in the attic but moving forces us to make choices. The process of leaving behind the things I've collected in six years of ministry is sometimes even harder but in the process I've discovered some things that have real, lasting value. There are people who have been real friends. There have been incredible acts of kindness and generosity. There have been real life transformations. As I leave, and as I reevaluate, I can see that God has been at work in me, in this place and in these people.

Amid the chaos and the pain... I've discovered real gold.