Lessons from a Church Gypsy

Read: 1 peter 2:1-10 and 1 Corinthians3

Our family is a band of church gypsies.  The theological education of our children, the spiritual development (so much as it can be up to any mortal) of our individual members, and the devotion to and worship of our Lord God is always first and foremost in our thoughts and deeds.[1]  However, we do not have decades-long ties to any particular church in our area.  We have been vagabonds, moving through and among congregations as deftly as, well…gypsies through the countryside. 

I share this with you today because what troubles me, greatly, are the lines of division that have been carved among believers; lines that are meant to separate ourselves from each other.  Particularly as we speed toward an election that has been extremely divisive for our nation, I am troubled at the “us versus them” mentality within the body of Christ.  Denomination against denomination.  Conservative against liberal.  Sister against brother.  We have allowed our ideologies to taint the gospel, to mar the message of one body in Christ, to defame the unity for which Jesus expected us to strive.  When we are a house divided, we are easy to dismiss.  To ignore.  To refute.  When we cannot treat one another charitably, how can we be expected to be light in an increasingly uncharitable world?

I know that there is no perfect church, for each community is comprised of imperfect sinners.  And we each are (hopefully) doing our best to live out the gospel.  Thus, if a community other than yours, or an individual believer, is acting within the bounds of scripture, yet doing something you wouldn’t do or in a way that you wouldn’t do it, might I suggest you look upon them with “Pollyanna” eyes?  Find the good they are striving toward, before lambasting them and tearing down what their character or denomination or expression of faith.  Remember that you and your church are just as imperfect and therefore in as much need of Christ’s grace as they.           

Our family has been a part of numerous communities of believers in our eight plus years in rural Colorado; each like a particular bloom in my heart, that when I look back upon them all I see a garden.  A tapestry from which we have learned and in which we have grown   There have been none we left on poor terms; and we pray that each continues their ministry and grows in vibrancy.  We have simply been called to move on at different times; some are obvious in hind-sight, others less so.  But our fluidity through these communities has left a beautiful mark in me, each one something I would regret deeply to have missed.        

I’ve loved the liturgy of the mainline churches we’ve attended; and yearn for it on the holy days when reverence is what the heart desires.  I’ve delighted in the dancing of non-denominational settings, where being yourself before the Lord is greatly expected; and where the community knows you and accepts you and you don’t have to rehash your journey every 2 months.  I’ve relished delving deep into the Word, going verse-by-verse in other non-denominational (-but-we’re-big-enough-that-we-really-are-our-own-denomination) congregations.  And I’ve cherished breaking bread weekly with another community who sought to truly live out missional lives.  I’ve learned from the vitality of a small group gathered primarily to make a difference in their community.  And oh how I miss that one group of lifers who just got each other, cared for and supported one another through whatever life slung at them. 

To have missed what each community taught me, what they drew out of me, would be a great tragedy to my spirit.  I love that as a member of the body of Christ, I can move within these people and glean from them the beauty therein.  Each place literally lightens my heart when I think of it, of the people who welcomed us and loved us and taught us and worshiped with us.  I can’t wait for the coming, epic reunion in Heaven when we’ll all be together as one family…worshiping our Lord together.  What a party that will be!  Laughter I can’t even imagine now and warmth and love I can’t fathom here.  The smile on my face at the very thought is so wide my cheeks are starting to hurt.  That is joy. 

Thus, I want to encourage you, visit some churches in your area.  Go outside of your brand of worship.  Recognize that just as you are individually created to enjoy a particular flavor of service, so are others; and that we have so much to gain when we respectfully share our way of drawing nearer to our Lord.  Stretch yourself and meet your extended family in Christ.  See how they worship, and do not judge, but enjoy their expression of love for our Heavenly Father.  Listen to their teachings, and so long as they keep with scripture, learn from them.  Shake their hands, let them welcome you, as family you may yet not know.  Return their smiles.  Open your heart.  Be blessed by them, and in turn bless them.  For one day, those of us who believe, will all be set at the King’s table for a feast in honor of His Son, celebrating His Love and Grace for each and every one of us.  Thus, if it is to be so in the age to come, should it not also be now? 

Lord, may Your kingdom come here on earth,

as it is and shall be in Heaven.

Amen.

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[1] On that note, we’re rolling out our family motto and life plan; which I’ll be outlining in the new year. 

The Silence of Calvary

Declaration 8:  The new creation that I am uses her voice for encouragement, edification, Love, and Truth.  Strength can be exhibited in the quiet; and a calm response can change an outcome.   

                For Love was silent on Calvary…

Suggested reading: Proverbs 15:1, Matthew 27, Mark 15, James 1:19-21

Some of you may recall that during the past Lenten season, I gave up talking on Mondays.  It was a particularly challenging time for me, both as one who relishes words, and as someone whose home was undergoing a remodel [due to a flood] and was therefore the opposite of a silent respite.  Naturally, I failed; but along with my imperfect attempts came some wonderful growth.   One lesson that came out of my fast was how much of my non-silent time was spent nagging or scolding or rebuking.  And how grating my voice was when it broke the silence thus. 

I have been tasked with raising two beautiful and imperfect [they get that from me] children; as well as walking alongside and sharing life with a magnificent man.  And I can tell you that in these most important of relationships, kind words are received much more quickly than harsh ones.  I know that encouraging my children in good behavior is more enjoyable for all than rebuking them for the bad.  When talking over the difficult things of this world with friends, a tender response [which is sometimes just silence anyway] outstrips a haughty one any day. 

But what I speak has to be a mirror of truth.  I gain nothing and I help no one if I placate them with niceties instead of speaking the truth.  Encouragement, by its definition cannot be rooted in untruthfulness.  Edification cannot happen apart from honesty.  Love has to be true in order to be genuine love.  Jesus, the Word of God, was never false.  He was the embodiment of Truth.  He was also the Love in the flesh.  The two cannot be divorced from each other: Love is Truth, and Truth is Love.  Thus, whatever I say should first and foremost be true; and its delivery should always seek to lift up the person with whom I am relating.  Regardless of to whom I speak: my children or husband, a non-believer or an esteemed theologian, a friend or foe, each is worthy of love and each deserves truth.  

In light of today’s fast approaching election, I write this knowing that the climate of insulting rhetoric is as thick as it has ever been.  Colleagues demean one another, insolent youths threaten riot, and families are divided across party lines.  Yet, we cannot use our idealistic differences as permission to inflict harm upon one another.  For no matter how brutally we are attacked, or how vehemently we disagree with those who oppose our political bent, we must be truthful in love. 

And sometimes, when we are not being directly called upon to defend our faith, silence is the most loving course of action.  When we are sure that no further word from us will change the mind of the person standing against us; when we have exhausted respectful discourse, when they are completely unwilling to even consider our point of view.  For on the way up to Calvary, Jesus did not utter a word.  According to Matthew and Mark, once He answered Pilate, to make this mortal aware that the power to give Himself up was His alone, Jesus said nothing. 

Nothing during the scorging.  Nothing during the crowning.  Nothing during the long walk up Golgotha.  Nothing when He stumbled.  Nothing to His assigned helper.  Nothing as the nails pierced His skin.  Nothing until He hung upon the cross for every sin in all of human history, in the instead of every person who would be accept this sacrifice.  And then, He did not curse those who hung Him there, nor those who cried out for His punishment, nor those whom He loved but had abandoned Him, nor any person before or since for whose sins He was killed.  Jesus was silent, in spite of the insults and accusations hurled at Him.  He knew the Truth; He is the Truth, and yet in the time of such upheaval, when humanity refused to listen, He said nothing. 

So I have to ask myself, what weight do my words carry?  Are they worth breaking the beautiful silence for?  Am I just speaking to hear my own voice; or is what I’m saying important enough, true enough, encouraging enough, loving enough to spend the breath that Heaven has given me?  Am I using my words to answer for my faith, to preach the gospel, to encourage, to lift up, to love?  Am I doing the work of the Kingdom with my voice, or am I just making noise in an already too-noisy world? 

What if, in the face of those who persecute or mock or taunt or anger us we were respectful, but silent?  What if, in the middle of being called to give an answer for what we believe, we answered truthfully and peacefully.  What if, instead of engaging in and therefore encouraging debased insult-slinging that masquerade as political debates, we calmly and encouragingly offer our position, instead of becoming heated and argumentative ourselves?  What if, in the interest of genuine love, we listened carefully and thoughtfully to what our opponents say; rather than always having our stock defense ready, before answering thoughtfully and gracefully?

What if, against all the angry, cruel, and spiteful rhetoric, we offered no insults, no demeaning tones, no haughty response.  What if we offered our opponents Truth, encouragement, and Love?

For surely, if Christ can still His righteous tongue through to the crucifixion, I can ignore the baiting on facebook; I can listen to the opinions of my fellows and not have to answer their rants.  I can realize that without face-to-face interaction, I am unlikely to affect anyone’s encounter of Truth.  And if I try to do so without love, then I have no right to in the first place.