There is no denying the fact that I have been a privileged person my whole life. I grew up in one of the wealthiest counties in the United States, just on the edge of the Nation's Capital, and attended a leading public school system when it was at or near the top of its game. Achievement and success always were in the air, and expectations were high. My high school not only boasted an almost 100% graduation rate, but over 90% of our graduates went on to college. It seemed like all of that simply was taken for granted, so a measure of culture shock awaited me when I found myself living in places "outside the Beltway" for college and seminary, and during my career as a clergyperson.
It always took some adjusting, but I finally figured out not everyone shared my advantages, experiences, and worldview. A memorable encounter with a professor just prior to my leaving seminary occurred on my final visit to the campus. When I saw him I somewhat facetiously said, "Well, I was ordained back home, and got a call to serve in a congregation in (another state), so I guess I'm ready to head out into the world and convert the heathen!" I was stopped in my tracks when, without missing a beat, he replied, "Or be converted."
I soon discovered there was a genuine warning in his words. After spending a few years with him and others considering the complexities of God, theology, scripture, history, human psychology, sociology, and other topics I found myself in settings, among people of faith, where there was resistance to such exploration, and even pressure to abandon the notion of continued spiritual and intellectual growth. This was and is the church in North America.
There were so many distractions (chosen or not) that pulled Christians and their churches away from what I perceived was their mission and purpose. Matters such as nostalgia for an idealized past, physical and emotional loss, fear of change, financial pressures, social and political confusion, clergy misconduct, and other concerns always stood in the way of the church hearing and responding to God's call.
As disheartening as all of this was and is to me, standing out was the pressure to trivialize and "dumb down" the Gospel message. Never in my life had I been encouraged to do less than my best in trying to do something until I was in a leadership role in the church. It simply did not compute in my mind, but it was there in so many overt and subtle ways. I guess it was the "conversion" of which my professor warned me.
As a young person growing up, I was deeply affected by the dominant issues of the day, namely the Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam war protests. In particular, as we recalled yesterday the anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., I was struck by the religious aspect of so much that was said and done in response to injustice and violence.
Being a church person, even though I was still an adolescent, I resonated with the cases being made to provide justice for the oppressed and to stop the killing. Growing up in Washington and its environs exposed me to a heavy focus on all of this, and I remember clearly the after-effects of Dr. King's murder on our city and many others across the country.
These observations and experiences were branded into my psyche, and as I perceived a call to ministry there seemed to me to be a lot of relevance in the Christian faith to such devastating world crises. It always was difficult for me to justify the church's existence without making application of the faith to such real world concerns.
But, the pressure to dumb things down, the resistance to stretching and growing, and the denial even of recognizing the realities for which Jesus was willing to sacrifice his life, pulled and tugged all the time. To me, it was reminiscent of something the prophet Isaiah said, which I hear as a sad, disappointed, lonely lament:
Go now, write it before them on a tablet,
and inscribe it in a book,
so that it may be for the time to come
as a witness forever.
For they are a rebellious people,
faithless children,
children who will not hear
the instruction of the Lord;
who say to the seers, “Do not see”;
and to the prophets, “Do not prophesy to us what is right;
speak to us smooth things,
prophesy illusions"
(Isaiah 30: 8-10, NRSV)
Why bring this up now? A couple of reasons, really. First of all, these long have been factors in my experiencing such a feeling of emptiness in ministry. Also, the anniversary of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s death reminds me of dashed hopes. And lastly, I saw it all on display again recently.
At a church service I attended, a couple was brought to the front of the sanctuary because they soon will be moving away. They expressed, with some emotion, how they would miss the church and everyone because of how nice and compassionate the people had been with them. We were all their friends forever, and we should call them if we ever find ourselves in their new hometown.
Fine. All well and good. But in this case, as with every other time I have witnessed such displays, or when people have shared why they love their church so much, never has anyone said, "This church is important to me because here I have been challenged to grow in my faith. Here I have learned to see things in new ways that have opened up great meaning and significance in my life in how I view and interact with the world. Here I have truly experienced a sense of God's presence and the life-transforming power of the Holy Spirit. Here I have seen that Christ lives."
Nobody ever says those things. It never occurs to anyone that the church could -- or should -- affect their lives, and consequently, the life of the world, in those ways.
