Snit Fits

I often learn things when I'm teaching.  I am certainly not one of those teachers/preachers who sticks to their manuscript or outline very well.  My homiletics professors would probably be rather appalled, but I find that going off script every now and then has wonderful effects.  Like you learn something, or discover something, or articulate something much better than you had planned.
Last night, as I was teaching week two of a course on evangelism, we were talking about why we go to church, and of course the inevitable correlative of that conversation: why others don't go to church.  One of the ladies in our group talked about how this congregation has "let people slip through the cracks," and what she meant by this was that people have left over the years because they stopped attending and no one went running after them to get them back.  They read this as rejection, as an indicator that we just don't care about them.  I could tell where this conversation about evangelism was going to go next: down the "we-oughta-get-back-all-those-people-who-used-to-come" road.  Which is one of my least favorite roads, it's bumpy (especially for the pastor), and it's a dead end.
The lady who raised the question is one of the most dedicated members of the congregation and a genuinely nice, caring person.  I'm not just saying that because I know she reads this blog either.  It is always the nice, caring people who are saddened that people feel left out and hurt by the church.  It's always the dedicated disciples whose hearts ache for those who wander away from the fold.  My reaction to hearing that concern for about the thousandth time since I began serving churches over a decade ago, was rather strong.
What people, who are leaving the church because no one chased them, are saying is that the church did not provide good enough religious goods and services.  The church is supposed to care about them, but when they disappeared for a month nobody checked up on them.  They threw a tantrum and nobody paid any attention.  This happens all the time.  What I realized last night is that it is every bit as much a symptom of religious consumerism as people who shop for churches based on worship style or youth programs.  They are looking for a spiritual country club.
For years this has always rubbed me the wrong way, but I was and still am, a little unsure about whether it is righteous indignation or just personal bias.  The idea that the church is supposed to serve God's people is deeply ingrained in our hearts and minds, it makes sense.  But maybe it's wrong.  Maybe the church is supposed to be the Body of Christ in the world and maybe we're here to be a part of that.  Maybe the Church is supposed to serve God and not people.  But it's easy to get confused, because how do you differentiate between serving God and serving God's people?
See?  I lost my clarity already.
So I went back to go.  I put myself in the shoes of a person who felt let down and left out of the church.  It was easy, because I'm an introvert, and yet I have to go to parties and social functions with annoying regularity.  At these parties and social gatherings, sometimes I find my way into a conversation with a group or an individual, and I enjoy myself, even if it does require a nap later.  Other times, I fail at the mingling phase of human interaction.  I don't happen upon an interesting group or individual to talk to, and I just sort of stand there feeling awkward.  If this standing there feeling awkward lasts too long, I start to get annoyed.  It gets worse when I see sparkly extroverts flitting about the room, jumping in and out of conversations whether they are welcome or not, but not ever seeming to care whether they are welcome or not.  I wonder why nobody flits over and talks to me, and I get even more frustrated and angry.  This mental feedback loop can get pretty bad and put me into a major pout, and then I'm positively sure that I put out these really black, you should steer clear of me, vibes.
Isn't that pretty much what people who storm out of the church because people didn't care about them enough are actually doing?
I totally understand how that works.
But I also know that it's my own fault.
One definition I have heard of maturity is, "taking responsibility for your own emotional, physical and spiritual well being."  My eight-year-old throws tantrums and in the course of those tantrums she is likely to blame her brother, her mother, me, one of her stuffed animals or some random occurrence that makes you think that perhaps she needs a psychiatric intervention.  I have tried telling her about the definition of maturity, and it doesn't seem to work, because she doesn't know what the word maturity means.
I wonder if maybe we as the church have forgotten that we're supposed to be making disciples, which by almost any definition is a mature follower of Jesus Christ.  It starts with welcoming, and trying to make people feel a part of the community.  At some point though, it requires that people grow up and start taking a responsible role in their own growth and development.  As a pastor, I often feel the pressure to be the one who deals with the tantrums, but I know it's not going to go well.  First of all, it's probably not going to work.  I can calm Caitlyn down by hugging her and telling her to breath, but sometimes it's hard to be able to do it, to take this devil-child in your arms and remain calm and soothing.  I love her more deeply than just about anything else, and so, even if I'm angry, I usually can do it.
I wish I loved everyone in the church that much, but I don't.  Plus adult tantrums are different, and I just can't go around hugging everyone when they don't want me to, I would probably get in trouble.
It bothers me that the church can be cliquish, and that sometimes we don't welcome the stranger and care for God's broken children as well as we are able.  However, I know that the only way church really works as a community of faith is for us to understand that the church is never more than what we make it, because it's a human thing.
That requires some theological explanation.  The Church is the Body of Christ in the world, but God did something rather audacious called incarnation, God became a human.  Jesus was not a superman, he was just a man, and he was also God.  Jesus showed us that we are capable of amazing things: miracles, healing and such, however, he also showed us that we are never immune to suffering, or above temptation.  Most of all, he showed us that our greatest triumph is the ability to forgive.  In the church, you will be guaranteed the opportunity to forgive people, because for all our high-fallutin' God talk, we're just a bunch of sinners who break and let each other down.
That's not a flaw, that's the way God designed the darn thing.  If that frustrates you to the point where you just want to stomp off and pout, I'm sorry, but I can't really say it's likely to change much.
If you come into the church expecting it to "meet your needs," no matter how good that church is, it's going to let you down eventually.
So what is the church good for?
It's good for growing, if you're willing to grow.
It's good for healing, if you will let God's people see your wounds.
It's good for forgiveness, if you're willing to forgive and be forgiven.
It's good for loving if you're willing to love and be loved.
It's good for encountering God, if you care enough to really look for him in the faces of people who, despite what you might think, are really glad you're there.