Questions from Where I Am

Thoughts from Marcia, gathered over the course of a week



Sometimes, when I take a step back from life, I can’t believe where I am at present.

Since making an intimate acquaintance with Jesus back in the summer of 1970, I’ve been a devout church attendee, faithfully going to Sunday school, worship service, mid-week prayer and whatever else the church offered every week. I’ve tithed and given extra to missions. I’ve taken notes on sermons, done countless Bible studies, been involved in music, church newsletter publications, missions, prayer efforts, discipleship, evangelism and teaching. I was married to a minister, and we served various churches for about 25 years.

Why are my husband and I now "church drop outs"? We didn’t quit because we were burned out or stopped loving the Lord, or bitter about anything that happened to us. We didn't quit because it's a challenge to get to church on Sunday morning with one of us being handicapped and needing extra care. We went to church faithfully for 6 years after Paul's brain injury. It was our love for the Lord which led us out of the traditional church. We’d still be there, safe within our comfort zones, if we had not been obedient to His call. We'd still be enamored with the system of Evangelical American culture.

Every once in a while I complain, "O Lord, why did You have to open my eyes like this? I was happy where I was, doing what I was doing. Now many of my friends are uncomfortable around me, and I around them. They think I’m weird, think I’ve lost my marbles or gone off the deep end. I don’t like living with this stigma. I don’t like traveling such an unpopular path. I want to be well-thought-of by the whole body of Christ, not just by my small group of "simple church" folk. I had plans to really be somebody respectable. Now You’ve gone and turned my life upside down."

And I can imagine Jesus’ reply: "I understand, my dear one. I wasn’t very popular with the religious establishment in My time, either. In fact, they were so threatened by Me they killed Me. Things aren’t that bad for you, are they?"

I have to admit with a sigh, "No, Lord, not nearly so bad. My true friends still love me even if they don’t understand. Forgive me for complaining and help me be faithful to You, no matter what the cost in the days ahead. Help me to have unlimited patience and love toward those who see things differently than I."

So I continue to keep contact with friends who must secretly be wondering why I’ve gone astray. Every once in a while, though, I have to answer the questions that arise from my own mind and from the lips of my friends.

Last week I had to sit down and deliberately answer this question: "Why can’t you have the best of both worlds—like the traditional church along with the intimate small group?" So I thought much, wrote much, prayed much. And I came up with even more questions.

Is it possible that traditional churches and healthy small groups are mutually exclusive?

Well. . . if an elephant dances with a duck, who is most likely to get stepped on?

That is to say, does the large drive the small, or does the small drive the large?

When something has to be canceled or postponed, is it the small gathering or the large gathering? What does the most money flow toward—small or large? What is advertised or "pushed" the most? Even if it is not expressed, where is everyone most expected to be?

Could the little event be receiving this discouraging, disheartening message: personal attachments to an important few must be discarded in favor of superficial attachment to the crowd.

Sad to say, we once held to this philosophy ourselves.

Here's another beef we supported in the traditional church: isn’t a little group of people that stays together for a long time known in a negative sense as a "clique"—even if it has done nothing wrong? Isn’t exclusion hurtful, and should it be allowed to exist in the body of Christ?

But wait a minute. How can a finite person develop robust, healthy relationships with a large number of people—or even with a small group of people which is constantly changing? Isn’t deep, genuine love—the kind of love which Jesus modeled for His twelve disciples--only experienced in relationship? Jesus gave us a NEW commandment—that we would love one another (Jn. 13:34).

Here’s the rub: How deeply can I love you if I don’t really know you? And how can I really get to know you unless I spend a significant amount of time with you over the years? And how is it humanly possible to spend such a significant amount of time with more than just a few?

Doesn’t every Christian need to function within a small group of significant others in order to adequately fulfill Jesus’ commandment? If so, does the large traditional church help or hinder "small group life" by its (conscious or unconscious) emphasis on the large--and by the frown it casts toward cliques?

But now someone else surely has a question. Not every traditional church sees a small group as a clique, do they? Some churches welcome and facilitate healthy small groups.

Great, but my question is this: is the small group governed by the large? Which is emphasized--the headship of Christ, or the headship of the church leaders? Is every small group fine, as long as it promises to submit to Christ? Or fine, as long as it promises to submit to human authority with fixed ideas?

Here’s a possible test: does the Big Church leadership allow groups to function independently as the Spirit leads, with the only stipulation that they honor Christ as their Head. . . or is every group made to walk the line of denominational/organizational rules and regulations?

We had to ask ourselves: If the Lord doesn't care for disunity, why do we support it in the form of denominations?

On to a second group of questions. . .

Mainly, can one survive and thrive on the amount of "One Another" ministry happening in the traditional church?

Heb. 10:24-25 ESV says, "And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."

Does this passage say, "Let a few Christians encourage many others", or "let one man do the bulk of the encouragement?"

Does the traditional church paradigm involve a lot of believers encouraging a lot of other believers? Or does it involve a mere handful of Christians encouraging the great Sunday morning masses of passive laity?

The way things are set up, does it not appear that the most important way of encouragement is to have a single educated man preaching to a crowd of not-quite-so-smart listeners?

Another thing. Why is it that typical pastoral sermons focus more on what-people-are-not-but should-be-doing, rather than on knowing Christ? Is there any other way to change than to spend intimate time with Christ and let Him rub off on us? What will encourage people more—tips on how to draw closer to Christ, or tips on how to try harder?

Given the superiority of the preacher, is it ever possible to arrive at church on Sunday morning completely discouraged, and leave feeling the same?

On the other hand, how can the typical "mature" church member be satisfied to exit the church without having significantly encouraged anyone during his time there, if encouragement was the main purpose of meeting together?

Is listening to an inspirational message the fulfillment of Hebrews 10:24 (the above passage)?

Could passivity in the pew breed passivity in the home or work place?

What percentage of believers actually act on the sermon they heard on Sunday? What percentage make a deliberate effort to minister to others?

Do I really need someone telling me how to live, or would I be better served by someone camping out quite close to me, modeling how to live? Did God get a megaphone and blare out from heaven, "Hey, I really love you guys down there"? Or did He come into our world and let Himself be known to a small, intimate circle of friends? Did He labor among us, did He live everything He taught, did He wash our feet? And finally, did He demonstrate love to the nth degree by allowing Himself to be crucified on a cross for our sins?

Where and how in the big church setting is there mega-modeling going on? Most of the modeling I see in the U.S. is that the better speaker you are, the higher you get to climb on the church social ladder, with the best speaker being the senior pastor. He is likely the Most Popular Person in the church. Also popular are gifted musicians. But are they modeling the type of servant leadership that Jesus advocated? Help me out here. How can a leader take the majority of the sharing time to espouse what he thinks, or to sing what he enjoys, when Jesus said that the greatest leader was the greatest servant? Don’t servants listen to others? Don't servants enable others?

Where are the little one-anothers, the divine nobodies that Jesus so dearly loves? Why do we rarely hear from them, Sunday after Sunday? Where is their platform for encouraging others in a gathering? Thousands of people, maybe millions, go to church Sunday after Sunday and communicate nothing except for a few words of greeting to those around them.

When Jesus spoke in the synagogue back in His day, one might have expected Him to give a lengthy sermon to those ignorant Jews. After all, He was God, so He knew it all. But His preaching was surprisingly short and interspersed with the questions and conversations of those around Him.

Even if Jesus had preached a lengthy sermon, don't all Christians have the Spirit of Christ within them since Pentecost? Can’t the Spirit speak as well through one man as another?

Granted, some who have the gift of preaching may speak longer or more eloquently than others. But where in the Bible does it say that the best speaker gets to do all the talking in every major meeting? For that matter, where does it say that the best speaker also gets to "call the shots" and be the leader for his local body?

All of those questions are an answer of sorts to my original inquiry. . . Can one survive and thrive on the amount of "one another" ministry happening in the church? Or perhaps I should rephrase the question. Is the environment of the traditional church conducive to one-another ministry?

My final barrel of questions comes from a quote I read by John Eldredge in The Journey of Desire (quoted in Heaven by Randy Alcorn). Go with me and I’ll form the main question in a moment.

Eldredge writes: "Nearly every Christian I have spoken with has some idea that eternity is an unending church service…. We have settled on an image of the never-ending sing-a-long in the sky, one great hymn after another, forever and ever, amen. And our heart sinks. Forever and ever? That’s it? That’s the good news? And then we sigh and feel guilty that we’re not more ‘spiritual.’ We lose heart, and we turn once more to the present to find what life we can."

Alcorn was using Eldredge’s quote to illustrate "a common misconception of heaven." His point was that of course heaven won’t be like one long church service.

But there is something here that begs to be answered. Whenever Christians gather together, are we not painting a picture of heaven—the larger eternal gathering? Psalm 23 ends by saying, "And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

According to that Psalm, is it any wonder many people conclude that if their time in "the house of the Lord" is boring and passive (which it should never be), eternity will be boring and passive as well?

This past Wednesday evening I went to "church" in a home. We brought food to share, but we started sharing before the meal, and were having so much fun talking about the things of the Lord we almost forgot to eat the delectable dishes waiting for us in the kitchen. After we ate we shared some more. One member sang a song he had written. Another read from her journal. Another graced us with a modern parable from a book she was reading. We looked at some scripture. A concern was voiced that we would reflect the love of Jesus with one another, and we spent time praying about it.

It was a rich and varied evening. Everyone participated. We hardly noticed that three and a half hours flew by, and when we finally did notice the lateness of the hour, it was another half hour before we could tear ourselves away to go home. There was a lightness to the gathering as we talked about significant and insignificant things in our lives. It was the kind of encouraging experience that could have lasted for eternity, as far as we all were concerned. If that was the house of the Lord, we could have dwelt there forever.

Since the Lord dwells in each of our hearts, was it not indeed His house? The ekklesia? The gathering? The church?

During my fifty or so years in the traditional Big Church there have been fleeting moments in small groups that approached the type of experience we had this past Wednesday.

Unfortunately, it was not the norm. Those glorious moments seemed to happen in spite of rather than because of the structural format, most likely in small groups or with like-minded believers one-on-one.

I am a relative newcomer to the organic-simple church philosophy, so I'm still learning. Not every simple gathering is the same—I know that much. But I think I am right in supposing that the most important question I can ask is this: in which environment can I draw closer to Jesus? A large, non-personal environment where I am largely passive? Or a smaller, personal environment where I am known, loved and active? Where can I best model the love of the Lord all week long to my brothers and sisters?

If I can find a place where I can get closer to Jesus as well as closer to others, that’s exactly where I want to be. I could dwell in that kind of an environment forever.

Note from Marcia, 4/22/09

When I was a 9-year-old girl growing up in southern Indiana, I went to summer church camp for the first time. About three days into my time there I noticed a strange, hollow, kind of queasy feeling in my middle. . . accompanied by mild depression. I was homesick. This perplexed me, because I was having a good time and wouldn’t have missed camp for the world. Still, my heart yearned for the familiarity of home.

Lately I’ve had feelings that remind me of that camp experience. I love where I’m at in my cozy little home in DeLeon; I love my life on earth, my family and friends and all the exciting things God has given me to do. But I want to go home. Some primitive instinct deep within me seems to say, "You were made for more than this. You were created to talk face to face and walk arm in arm with Jesus—just like Adam and Eve did when the earth was first birthed. You were meant to live outside the constraints of time, to exist in a perfect utopia. You were made to live in total harmony with your Creator, without the constant struggle of the fallen, carnal nature. "

I’ll admit that sometimes my impatience may be due to this less-than-perfect looking, feeling, and acting body. And you have to remember that day after day we deal with Paul’s handicap, which hampers and hinders most of our activity. So maybe we’re a tad selfish about looking forward to an escape. However, beyond the freedom our heavenly bodies will afford us, what will it be like to look into the face of our Savior, and keep looking at Him forever? O to experience physically what we have known spiritually. O for that day when we will actually be lifted up in the arms of our Redeemer!

Until then, we try to center ourselves on the Lord and His concerns. We try to keep in mind that soon what is eternal will overtake what is temporal. And we find comfort and strength in the company of others who realize that they---like us---are merely pilgrims passin’ through.