Photo by alicejamieson
I fell in love with my church all over again. We had gone through a bit of a rocky period, as of late, but yesterday, I could suddenly see with clarity all of the things that made me fall in love with it in the first place.
When you think about it, finding the right church community can be a lot like finding the right spouse. (This, by the way, is very different than “falling in love with Jesus.” Don’t worry—I’m not going to get into that whole questionable analogy here.)
With churches (and life partners), sometimes you spend months—even years—shopping around, only to finally settle with something that never feels quite right. Other times you’re not even looking, really, and The One falls into your lap. (In my case, the right church fell into my lap, which resulted in the right man appearing in my life. Bonus!)
From lust and like to love and bliss
There’s usually that one thing that catches your eye and piques your imagination first. Once you’ve fallen in like (or lust), there’s that tentative-awkward-exciting period of time as you get to know one another. What are the various quirks and habits? When do you sit or stand? Is it OK to freely and spontaneously express yourself, or is it better to keep emotions in check? Will every “date” leave you feeling stimulated and full of possibility, or maybe uncertain or even bored?
If you do end up reaching that “I’m in love” stage—whether suddenly or gradually—there is bound to be a happy honeymoon period. You wake up every Sunday morning filled with anticipation. You’re blind to all the church’s flaws and faults, and tend to gush about it whenever the opportunity arises.
Then you settle into your routines, still happy, but not quite ecstatic any more. Eventually, you start to feel slightly bored, maybe restless, and more aware than ever of those annoying habits and quirks. Just as you might cringe when your spouse burps loudly in public, you cringe at church when that song gets totally flubbed up, or when someone gets up to make a strange announcement. When you wake up on Sundays, you feel more like sighing than leaping out of bed, singing praises.
The seven year itch
As I mentioned, I was going through a phase like that with my church the past few months. I still really loved it, but it was a type of love mixed with annoyance, with dashes of affection and weariness thrown in. Perhaps it’s the equivalent of the seven year itch that marriages are prone to? I’ve only been at the church for five years, but maybe church years are accelerated, sort of like dog years are. Who knows?
Yesterday, I walked into the worship area with my family and my parents, who were visiting. I must admit, my expectations weren’t high. It’s summer, after all—who knew if there would be a decent team of people leading worship, or if one of our best teaching pastors would be preaching. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find less than half of the chairs occupied.
Everything was right, though. What I mean, in part, is that the pieces were in place—great music, great teaching, lots of people there to worship, exhibiting what felt like open, joyful hearts.
But more than that, everything was right with my own eyes and heart. The two were linked up, and I saw once again what I’ve always loved about the church: Not any sort of perfection, but the quirky imperfection, bound together with grace.
The very things that can potentially annoy me, when I’m not seeing with my heart, became again the things that cause surges of love. People arriving 15 minutes or more late, and walking right up to sit in front. Erratic tambourine playing, and flub-ups with the PowerPoints. People doing hand motions to the songs, and microphones that whined during announcement time.
Love trumps unrealistic expectations
The problem, after all, has never been with the church, as much as it has been with me—my expectations, and the way I see things. When I look at certain people going about their business in the world, they might seem so put together and with-it, always doing and saying the right thing. Of course we know that can’t be true of anyone, all the time, but we sure like to think it might be so we end up setting our standards at an unreasonable level. Eventually, though, if you’ve lived with someone long enough, or worshiped with them long enough, the truth is bound to surface.
So it seems like we should go into it all with more grace. Maybe we should decide to fall in love with a church that sets its sights on being real, more than on being perfect, just like we should only marry someone who is real with us, and who encourages us to be real with them. In the end, that’s what enriches my life, both in my church and my marriage.
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{ 12 comments… read them below or add one }
“Bound together with grace.” Oh, how we all need more grace for one another. Enjoyed your writing once again.
CS Lewis notes that humility is not thinking less of yourself but rather thinking of yourself less. It seems to me that the consumer ethos is so deeply ingrained in us that we are constantly running cost/benefit analyses and considering our options.
In our culture we look at options as some sort of national inheritance/birthright, the key to a fulfilled life. I am increasingly believing that these options in fact bring on this malaise that you describe well and sow the seeds of our discontent.
Were as there are certain areas of our life where a consumer mentality is good and appropriate, when it comes to people and communities we get into trouble. When somewhere deep inside of us we begin to evaluate people and communities in terms of their utility in our lives we take the first step towards using and away from loving.
Thanks for our post. pvk
This post is infused with glory, Kristin. There is the glory of individuals set free from selfish assessments, as well as the glory of the gathered church, expressing God’s goodness in flawed foolish folk assembled in his name.
Well done, indeed!
Reminds me of looking for matching socks in a round laundry basket.
I can look and look and look and dig and dig and dig . . . and not see a match. Then I rotate the basket about 15 degrees and Voilà — The Match. Love perspective, love it more when I remember to shift 15 degrees.
Joy, isn’t it ironic that our faith is so much about grace in the face of our brokenness, yet Christians often seem to be much less accepting of imperfection that non-Christians?
Paul, this seems exactly right: “It seems to me that the consumer ethos is so deeply ingrained in us that we are constantly running cost/benefit analyses and considering our options.” There is definitely a sense of entitlement—a sense that an abundant life is dependent on an abundance of choices (and stuff in general). We’re always shopping, always thinking there might be something better just down the road.
Ray, this sounds just like something Flannery O’Connor would say and celebrate: “…expressing God’s goodness in flawed foolish folk assembled in his name.” I love it! And I love those moments when I’m able to see past the selfish assessments that often creep in.
Such a good post! It’s so easy to get caught up in the little things that irritate, like how he ALWAYS puts the plates in the wrong place when he unloads the dishwasher, or how we always sing that particular song too slowly or why can’t we do this or that, like the church down the street.
I love “So it seems like we should go into it all with more grace. Maybe we should decide to fall in love with a church that sets its sights on being real, more than on being perfect…”
So true!
A good friend said to me long ago, “You will really know how much you love her when you realize you are deeply touched with love, not in spite of her areas of imperfection, but because of them.” That wisdom and the wisdom of your post both push me to the same place – loving in the real world. As you say, easy to forget, but wonderous to remember. Thanks so much for the reminder.
Dave, I always love your life analogies. You’re right—shifting our perspective just a bit can result in a whole new take on life. What I want to know is when do you decide to go ahead and dump the whole laundry basket out on the bed? :) (It’s good to see you again!)
Becky, it’s sort of frightening how many ways a marriage relationship can parallel a church relationship, isn’t it? And how much our own grouchy moods or frustrations with ourselves can play a part in how we see others. Grace is, indeed, amazing.
Ron, the “not in spite of, but because of” wisdom is so true. If we can’t learn to “love in the real world,” as you put it, then there probably isn’t a point to trying to love others at all.
Church, Life, Love, and Socks – all can be dumped out on the bed to solve the problem . . . but they all get wrinkled, strewn, lost over the edge, and have to be picked up anyway – picked, chosen, and matched is always better. (PS: you know, I’m here quite a bit, but other commentors make good points that I would just write “Ditto”)
New reader, as you know, but this? This is fan-freakin’-tastic. Thank you for writing it.
Sarah, thanks for saying that! I’m glad you’re here, and liking what you see.
Not much to add here, but it does reinforce my sense of late that a quest for the perfect can hold us back from the good but imperfect things we need. I hope that makes sense. I can certainly resonate with a lot of what you’ve said here.