Things I Learned in Church, Part 6: Easter People

A church in Europe anticipating Easter, April 2019

It is the day after Easter as I compose this piece. Easter is one of those days that draws people [back] to church. Yesterday, I joined a celebration that brought out all the musical instruments & players that my community of believers could assemble; the hymns and anthems invited everyone to sing along. The good news that "Christ has risen / He has risen indeed" was repeated throughout the liturgy. This one day is the hinge point for the church, and it has been from the beginning.

   

   Reflecting back on my childhood, I can't say that any particular Easter Sunday service stands out in my mind. Part of me wishes I could remember something more specific than the hymn "Christ the Lord is Risen Today" being sung with organ accompaniment and with "Alleluia" punctuating each line. And yet, this annual holy-day made itself felt in other ways.

   That's because my parents made every effort to take us to worship each Sunday. And every Sunday was a mini-celebration of Easter. The fact that Sunday was the day that early believers in Jesus chose to gather together has a direct connection to the "first day of the week," when the women disciples found the tomb empty and heard the angels declare, "He is risen."  The music, prayers and teaching each week direct us to become Easter People, people shaped by the Resurrection of Jesus.

  Call it the hinge, the foundation, or the hub of Christian faith, Easter & the Resurrection of Jesus is it!

  Without the Resurrection, there would be no reason to gather. Without the Resurrection, there would be no assurance of forgiveness. Without the Resurrection, Christian hope would be misguided. Without the Resurrection, prayers to Jesus would be pointless. Without the Resurrection, the unity of Jesus' followers in any form would be impossible. Without the Resurrection, the motivation to bring blessing to others would expire when obstacles mounted. Without the Resurrection, Jesus' call to love one another would sound weak.

  But because of the Resurrection:

• Gathering with others for worship is desirable
• Forgiveness has been secured
• Christian hope is appropriate
• Prayers to Jesus are purposeful
• Unity with other followers of Jesus is viable
• The desire to bring blessing to others has perseverance
• The call to love one another is accompanied by boldness

  If you missed "Easter" this week or this year, it's not too late to catch up on what you missed. The doors are open every Sunday, to meet and celebrate the One who rose again and is alive forevermore. You'll also find Easter People, imperfect humans trying to live out the way of Jesus.

   

   

Things I Learned at Church, Part 5: the Church at its Best

Church people are not always at their best, I will admit. It's not difficult to find examples of church people who write, speak and behave in shameful ways. I make no excuse for them or for myself. 

However, if you would like to see church people at their best, pay attention to them at worship and watch them serving.

In a zoom interview with Christine Caine in 2020, Dr. Anita Phillips mentioned that you find people at their best when they are worshipping [1]. This idea has rolled around in my mind for a few years. When regular people are worshipping God in church, through song, prayers, giving their money to benefit others, receiving the sacraments, and listening to Scripture, we see them in a humble posture and attitude. Their focus is not on themselves but on their Lord. Their desire is to give God the glory. If you want to see the church at its best, come on a Saturday evening or a Sunday morning. Don't come just to hear the preacher. Don't come just to hear the musicians. Come to observe the people sitting and standing and giving their attention to a divine being who is transforming them.

Another place to see church people at their best is when they are serving others. Last Thursday evening, my schedule allowed me to scoop taco chili into bowls for anyone needing a meal. This food had been prepared by a team of six or seven church people, earlier in the day. To my right was a retired woman, who provided the same meal in takeout containers. To my left were several men and women adding veggies, cookies, utensils, and coffee to the orders that were going to be eaten inside the community center. Behind the scenes another refilled anything that was running low. As our short shift began, I said to my fellow volunteers, "I believe this is the church at its best. It is my honor to serve with you."

When we are together worshipping the God who created us or together helping out folks in need, we are occupied with fulfilling the two great commandments as Jesus summarized them: to love God with our whole selves and to love our fellow human being as much as we love ourselves. When we are thus occupied, we are not elevating ourselves or finding fault with others. We don't just have to imagine the church at its best. We can participate in it!

[1] BODY LANGUAGE: A Conversation on Race + Restoration in the Body of Christ, (June 1, 2020).

Things I learned at church, Part 4: There is no perfect church

    Consumer North American society has made its way to churches for many decades now. If something displeases a person at the church they attend, there are many other options. Perhaps more so during the era of online church, accelerated by the Covid-19 pandemic, people have a plethora of choices. Those choices include worship times streamed from other cities and other parts of the world. Of course, for more and more people the concept of church or church membership has become completely irrelevant.

   As stated in the earlier posts in this series, my weekends have always been punctuated with church attendance once or twice on a Sunday. For me, church is still relevant. Perhaps a definition of church would be helpful. Church for me is much more than a physical space but the experience of connection with other people who also love Jesus as we meet together to worship, learn together, pray and encourage one another. The very first churches or ecclesia met in homes, beside rivers, or in rented space. They were not visible landmarks, but they were instrumental in bringing hope and wholeness to the community in which they were planted.

   When my husband and I met, we each belonged to a different church. Since they were both in the same town, we alternated attending each church together. Eventually, as we became engaged and married, we felt it important to choose one and become more fully invested in its ministry. Did I neglect to mention that all the people in these two churches had once been members of the same larger group? A heated issue had led them to split. How would we decide? My husband framed the question in this way: "Which group of sinners will we decide to worship with?" This was not about finding the best or the perfect church. In the end we opted for my husband's church, as he had the deepest roots in that community of faith. 

   About eight years later, we did move away from the town where we first met. Our first Sunday we landed in a church of the same denomination we were affiliated with, with the intention of just "trying it out." On that Sunday morning, there was a guest pastor. I don't remember what the theme of his message was, but I know it was based on the Bible. I don't remember if it was organ or piano music, but I know we sang hymns and spiritual songs. I don't remember if we were greeted at the door, but I remember two distinct conversations after the service. When we got home, we agreed: "The Holy Spirit is in this church. We don't have to look any further."

   That was eighteen years ago. Did we find the perfect church? No, we found a group of sinners to worship with. They put up with our shortcomings, as we try to contribute the gifts and talents God has given us. We work together to make things happen that none of us could do on our own, like helping to resettle individuals and families who were once refugees. We forgive those who have said something hurtful to or about us, even when it's hard. We listen to the Word of God together and seek to live it out. We ask about each other's needs. We bring meals to each other when we're going through a rough patch. We know we're not alone.

  Another heated issue has arisen at church. Members might look at each other and wonder, "Which side are you on?" I remind myself that this church is a group of people I've been connected to for more than a decade. We all have a story that has intersected with the grace of Jesus Christ. I'm committed to keep listening to those stories and to an ongoing journey with these folks. It won't be easy. It won't be perfect. But I'm counting on the Holy Spirit to guide us all.  

Things I learned at church, Part 3: Faith and Deeds Work Together

   To those outside of a church, it may seem that churches exist mainly through words, doctrines, creeds and statements.  What I have learned is that church is a place where these words and beliefs come to life in real and practical actions.  The impact of the people nurtured by the teachings of the church is felt more widely than even they might imagine.

   My first awareness of community volunteering came through my church.  "Meals on Wheels," a community agency delivering hot meals to seniors or disabled people, relies upon volunteer drivers.  In our weekly church bulletin was a regular notice telling the members of the church about what time and date they would be needed to help out. Visits to a local nursing home were coordinated through the church, as a way to provide social support to isolated seniors.  These volunteer opportunities existed 40 years ago and have expanded to include food banks, "Out of the Cold" programs using church facilities to provide shelter for the homeless, and many more. Church members are often the ones who recognize community needs and who also fill the ranks of needed volunteer help.

   Churches are also places to get practical help, for insiders (as I highlight in the story below) and for those outside. This is true for those who attend: help is requested and given when someone is ill in the hospital or needs a ride to medical appointments or needs some cash to pay bills due to a work setback. People bringing over baked goods or a meal in a time of struggle is a common show of support in church circles. One strong memory of practical help happened when my family of origin was going through a crisis.  I was away from home doing summer volunteer work and heard about it later. My father could not work that day, but the livestock needed attention. My mother called two families from the church asking if they could send someone over to help. No questions were asked; no explanation was needed.  The young adults who came over and did the farm chores have probably forgotten all about it, but their gift of time is still appreciated by me today. 

   As alluded to in an earlier post in this series, churches take up offerings.  The church where I grew up took up two offerings.  That might sound greedy; however, the first offering went to paying bills, the pastor and practical costs of operating a church.  The second offering was designated for a different cause each week. It was only touched by those counting it and then was passed along to community organizations, agencies or was put in a fund to help people in need who approached the church. It was instilled in me that true generosity flows to those outside of the church building.  According to 2013 Canadian statistics, 41% of the dollars given to charities went to religious organizations [1]. One should not assume that these funds remained in those buildings; they were meant to go out. Yes, some of the work done by religious organizations involves sharing their message with those who have not heard it before. In the spirit of the churches I am acquainted with, the motivation for giving is love--love that seeks to meet human needs regardless of the religious affiliation of the recipient.

   If churches only communicate their message in words, then as the Apostle James declares, "...faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead" (James 3:17 NIV). I am grateful to have learned the vital lesson of faith and deeds working in tandem, at church. Now it's my responsibility to live it out for the next generation.

[1]Turcotte, Martin. Volunteering and charitable giving in Canada. Statistics Canada Report, 2015, page 13. 2015https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/en/pub/89-652-x/89-652-x2015001-eng.pdf?st=idKPvHV6 

Things I learned at church, Part 2: Worship is a two-way conversation

I sometimes think that a person coming to a church service for the first time must find it confusing. When do you sit and when do you stand? Are you supposed to kneel? What do some of those words mean? Will someone show me where to find the next song or passage that everyone else is looking up?

Although the church I grew up in did not have a complex liturgy, there were still different elements: prayers, songs, readings, an offering, a sermon and sometimes a baptism or communion. Because I was immersed in this style of worship from a young age, I did not really question it.  At about age 10 or 12, a church school teacher explained to our class that there was a purposeful structure to a worship service.  

When the pastor or an elder spoke from the Bible, it represented God speaking to the people.  That was because what this leader said was not just a personal opinion or something original that he wanted to talk about.  There was a "greeting" that was a direct quote from the Bible, usually from a Psalm.  A reading of the 10 commandments or a summary of the law would come a bit later.  The reading of another Scripture would be followed by a sermon. An announcement of what the offering would be used for would also come from the pulpit.

But coming to church was not just listening to the leader speak.  Each time, like a back and forth pattern, the people would have something to contribute too: a prayer saying sorry after the law was read, a song of response, giving the offering, the word "amen," another prayer asking God to bless the word as we read it, another song responding to the content of the message, another prayer that was more personal, sharing the needs of people we knew, and so on.

Many churches today have simplified their liturgy even more.  They start with a welcome, 3 or 4 songs in a row, time to read the Bible and hear a talk about it, a prayer, maybe one more song and then the service is over.  But even here, the gathered people are active in both listening and responding.  Going to church is never passive, even if it's done online. By singing along, praying along and deeply listening, we are taking part in a conversation with the God of the universe, who knows us better than we know ourselves.

Things I learned at Church, Part 1: Real Men do Cry

With this post, I'd like to begin a series of reflections about valuable things I learned at church.  I know many writers who take on the topic of their childhood church find much to critique and dismiss.  After almost nine months of disrupted church attendance due to the pandemic, I have found myself thinking about the positive impact that being part of a worshipping community has had on my life.

   The church my family attended while I was growing up was not an outstanding structure. Generic red-brown brick on the outside, cement steps with wrought iron railings leading to wide wooden doors, and plain wooden pews without cushions were fairly typical for a church constructed around 1960 in Ontario, Canada.  As a worshipping community, these people had been together for just over a decade when I was born.  All but one or two attendees had an ethnic tie to the Netherlands; these people were known for their thrift, hard work and stoic outlook on life.

   Given this last point, it is ironic that it was at this church where I learned that real men do cry.  When I grew up, every pastor and everyone in church leadership was male. And yet among these men, vulnerability was not shunned. Elders and pastors regularly announced things from the pulpit and led in prayers. It happened that when the news was sad or the prayer need painful, there were pauses to compose oneself or voices that broke with emotion.  I learned that it was all right to feel things at my church.

   One man of my parents' generation was a farmer.  I remember the first time I observed this man weeping during a church service. He was not loud, but there were tears and deep sighs that moved his body.  On the drive home, my parents compassionately explained that he had seen many painful things during a colonial war.  Perhaps a song brought back one of these difficult memories.  It wasn't the only time this gentleman cried in church.  Knowing more than I did then, it's likely this man was dealing with PTSD. But more important than a label, there was room at church for his tears.

   Another man I saw cry in church was a delivery driver for a lumber yard.  His tears did not need any explanation.  I was in Grade 5 when his two pre-school children died in a car crash.  That he might sometimes be overcome with emotion made complete sense to me.  Grief was appropriate to express at church.

   As a teenager I recall scanning the whole group of people in attendance one Sunday morning and coming to the realization that every single one of the men serving as an elder or deacon had experienced a deep tragedy in his life.  Leaders at my church were not those who lived removed from the brokenness of the world; they were real people with real emotion.  Since these people were voted in by the members, what some might consider weakness was viewed as a strength. As I reflect on these things decades later, it's one of the things I'm grateful to have learned at church.