I bought a book to give my parents, and after reading it, decided it wasn't one they would enjoy. Written by a hoity-toity Duke divinity student, he shares a few of the lessons he learned from a small church. Toward the end he wrote several paragraphs that resonate with a few thoughts I've been having the last few months.
There are times I'd love to be swallowed in a crowd where no one knew my name or cared whether or not I made it to church. But the reality is, in such a place I'd not have a person to nudge me on, lovingly confront me, nor hold my hand through difficult times. I don't agree with everything Mr. Byassee had to say, but I appreciated the acknowledgement, however condescendingly made, that a small church has many gifts to offer.
The church is easy to bash because the church is full of knuckleheads, that is, human beings. we're all hypocrites, the greatest saints among us chiefly so...She's (the church) made space for the strangest among us, allowed us to be that way, worshiped alongside us, cared for our children, wept when we buried parents, and been our friend and neighbor. It's a greater gift than any of us has a right to expect. It's like grace -God's own mercy. And the trick is- there's no batch of perfect people someplace else to replace this batch of sinners. Sinners are all Go d has to work with to get His way in the world...This doesn't happen automatically in megachurches. In megachurches anyone can walk in and be anything they like. Nobody has to tolerate you because nobody has to tolerate anybody any more than one has to get on with the guy in the movie theater next to you. I can see the appeal of this - I've had stages in my life when I wanted no one in my business as I worshiped Jesus. But those were stages. Everywhere, the church makes a place for crazy people because the church is full of them. That is, all of us. But in the small church you have to shake their hands. Weekly...The church wounds us, like every parent wounds, hopefully unwittingly, penitentially, but in ways no less real. She marks us forever. And without her, we'd not be us. (107, Byassee, Jason.)
There are times I'd love to be swallowed in a crowd where no one knew my name or cared whether or not I made it to church. But the reality is, in such a place I'd not have a person to nudge me on, lovingly confront me, nor hold my hand through difficult times. I don't agree with everything Mr. Byassee had to say, but I appreciated the acknowledgement, however condescendingly made, that a small church has many gifts to offer.
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