Churchy-ness……

When I was little, I was extremely churched.  My family went to every possible service.  That is where Dad thought we should be.  We went Sunday morning, Sunday night and Wednesday night.  We were at retreats, seminars, conferences and any other possible church event.  I guess you could say that we were “soaked” in church.  As I look back, I’m not sure what it exactly meant to me.  I can remember the meal afterwards and I know that I spent a lot of time looking out the window because everything was in a foreign language. Most of the time my mind was somewhere else. When we went to an English service we joined other expats at the Pentecostal church. I remember my mind puzzling over the words that fell out of the praying lips of those praying in tongues. Later I would wonder whether or not speaking in tongues is the only evidence of baptism in the Holy Spirit. But for me as a young person, church was just something we did. It was an obligation to fulfill, a duty.
Fast forward quite a few years later…. We are living in a foreign city and most of the church options are in another language. We work six days a week and we have one day we can spend time together as a family doing something different. Sometimes when we make that choice, my oldest son says, “We aren’t going to church? Shouldn’t we? I mean, I feel guilty if we don’t go.” When questioned further it is not about possibly disappointing others but more because he feels like it is a duty or requirement–yes, something God would require of us.
That has made me start to think. My family, when I was younger, attended every service. But, at the cold heart of the matter, we were breaking to pieces. We just wore church as a mask, hiding the true state of our hearts and relationships. It was definitely just going through motions defined by duty: tithing, sitting on the wooden pews, singing, bringing food for a potluck, helping to teach Sunday School. What were we really doing there anyway?
So, what is church all about? I have heard many talk about the fact that the “Church” does not have walls–it is the body of believers. We are the church–wherever we are and whoever we are with. I agree with this, for my faith is something not confined to one place. However, I think that this provides some with an “excuse” to bail when there is a church community they don’t want to put up with anymore. I know that pastors faithfully preach the Word each week and don’t know how to deal with the lack of commitment in the pew and in the offering plate. I can also understand the criticism of the church of the four walls that keeps trying to build larger buildings, provide more amenities/”lures”, and be more hip and relevant.
As I think about the importance of church though, I keep going back to that body of believers which has been a part of my journey. I think of amazing people from that Pentecostal church long ago who offered their strong grip when we were drowning and helped save my parent’s marriage. I think of my friend who is now struggling through each and every day in prison–and how his primary and faithful support has come from those who were in church with him long ago. I think of the deep loving encouragement and knowledge I have gained from sharing life with believers in various church “homes”. Those incredible people have loved me, prayed for me, and have supported my family. They are not my blood relatives, but they are my family and I love them dearly. They are truly “home”, no matter where our journey takes us.
As my wandering thoughts come to a close, I say, “Stay close and in the church”. Will God punish you if you aren’t there every week? I don’t think so…but I also know that my life has been saved, changed, and enriched because of the input of godly men and women in the church. I don’t want to miss that and I don’t want to miss having the opportunity to be used by God for someone else.