For the love of God!

Usually I post cute little tales that I spin for my daughters on this blog, today….not so much. You see, sometimes things happen that open your eyes a bit and make you reexamine your what’s and why’s of life. It’s that kind of day.

Today, Lori and I were talking about relationships and that led to church and that led to me voicing some long-held and unpopular opinions about The Church…those who have ears to hear…

{CAUTION: Legal flashback ahead}

When I was a boy, no…before I was born, I was raised in church. Well, not so much a church as an outdoor tent revival where my parents were singing gospel music for a long running and very popular evangelistic outpouring. Mom was about 8 months along with me and suffering from the long nights and heat, so dad brought her to his mom’s house and said, “Have that baby, I’m going back to the revival.” And that is exactly what she did, about 4 weeks early. Today that would be no biggie, but this was the mid-sixties. Infant mortality was startling for healthy babies, let alone a preemie. The doc said my odds were low. So while I spent a week in the respirator, people I will never meet joined my family and church family in falling on their faces in prayer for me. In the seer, dry grass and dirt under a faded white and red tent, they sent up unending intercession. And I love them all for it.

So I am a miracle baby (don’t tell anyone, but we are all miracle babies.) The parents didn’t make toooo big of a deal about it, well…OK, they actually did. I became part of the show. That sounds much more cynical than it should, but there was an element of showmanship to leading worship that dad was pretty good at. I lived in church with my brothers. I was that kid crawling under the pews and making gum boogers to make my friends laugh at the worst times. Today I would have been on something for the ADHD. Then, I wound up on stage.

We travelled from Pennsylvania to Florida during the summers as itinerant minstrels of God’s gospel. I remember loading up the bus just after school was out and having no idea where we would be the next day. We always (God’s providence, some say) had money for fuel and food and another town to sing to. So I’ve seen a lot of churches. More importantly, I’ve seen a lot of church people. That is the problem.

Perhaps this over-exposure is to blame, or youthful rebellion or the pride of intellectualism led me astray. Whatever the reason, I became disenchanted with The Church at an early age. It is a seriously flawed place. The Ideal is too hard to live up to and when we inevitably fail, we fall into the feeding frenzy of gossip and condemnation that isn’t supposed to be there, but is. Grace is preached, but rarely practiced.

Please don’t get me wrong, I am still moved by the message, but The Church is just awful. It is static and more often a social club than the Bride of Christ. Petty bickering and power struggles are the norm. And God forbid you should ever have toooo great a sin. Then you have to sit in the pew of shame for as long as Mrs. Grundy decrees. Awful. Just awful.

So Lori asked me, “Given all of your problems with it, why do you still go?” I had a few answers. Could be habit and wanting to pass along the same message to my kids, but that’s not true. Could be a sense of community and belonging, but that’s not it either.

I still go to church because God still speaks to me there. I hear Him profoundly in the sanctuary. I hear him in Nature, too, but The Church is where I have the most frequent and manifest spiritual experiences. You can have epiphanies anywhere, and I’m sure many people do. Many people devote their lives to spiritual purity and exploration, countless hours of meditation and prayer just to have a glimpse of the Face of God. When all over the world, it happens every Sunday. People with diverse agendas and mixed motivations come together and have divine communion, in spite of how flawed The Church is.

So why do so many people hate The Church when it is a clear road to enlightenment? Why do I hate The Church so much, so often? Is it the reflection of my own failings that I despise? I really don’t know. I also don’t know how a variable camshaft works, but it doesn’t stop me from driving my car. God speaks to me there, so there is where I’m going to go.

Unexamined life? No, just practical. I like food too much to be an ascetic monk staring at his belly button and pondering the meaning of life. I have too many commitments to run off and live in a cave. I could easily join the New Age movements around me. Many of them are appealing and are truly blessed. But, I’m a big fan of the whole Grace thing Jesus has going whether the churchgoers around me show it or not. So I will go to church and seek the Face of God right here in Parkersburg, West Virginia.

I bet I find Him.