Family Math

Last night was “math night” at the Wayenberg house. Our neighbor, who is more like our second daughter, came over for some Algebra help while my daughter toiled through her Geometry with a little of my assistance. Actually to say it was all about math would be misleading, it was math in between making bean dip, demonstrating hurdling techniques over the laundry basket, and random conversations about track, school, food, and some things that just didn’t make any sense. Sandy and I had planned on taking some time to talk about our Multiply study, but the half hour of homework with the girls found a way of turning into two hours, so the study just didn’t happen. But what did happen was better anyway.

I was reminded last night about why I am here. Not just me here, in Deer Park, but why I am here as part of God’s family and what a blessing that is. I have this surrogate family that makes life here better and gives me purpose. I am not always good at living that out and I wish nights like last night occurred more often. Some think they are bothering me when they send their kids to me for math help, but in a way they are really helping me. They are reminding me each time that I have something to offer and that when we are a part of the church family, their kids are also my kids. 

As I read through, When the Church Was a Family, I am being forced to think hard about how I view the church. It is forcing me to grapple with the language we use when we describe the church as a family - if they are mere words or if they really have substance. We talk about our “brothers and sisters” in Christ, but too often the phrase lacks meaning. It has the same meaning as talking about my “neighbor”, it is merely a way of identifying someone and their positional relationship to me, but with spiritual sounding twist.  

But those that I truly consider family, my brothers and sisters and children, interact differently with me and I with them. My family feels comfortable coming to my home unannounced and enters without knocking (or maybe a quick knock just to announce they are coming in). My family helps themselves to the food in the fridge (even when we are not home) and when they think I can help, they ask or they come over. And when I think they can help me, I call them. We don’t barter and keep balance sheets and we all think that each other is getting the better deal. That is family, the surrogate family who has God as our Father. 

Last night was a reminder of how much I love being a part of this family, but, as I think about the relative infrequency of those kinds of evenings, it made me think that maybe my family is too small. 

What If Church Was Hard? (Part 2)

So, what if church was hard? What if some people stopped coming or never came to begin with because the church didn’t have padded seats, or good temperature control, or didn’t make coffee and treats, or because the fellowship hall was to small, or too loud, or too dark or too whatever? What if people didn’t come because the parking was inadequate and they would have to walk too far? What if people stopped coming because the worship service was too long or didn’t start at the right times and the music was too slow or to soft or too loud or too “different?” 

What if those things of comfort simply were not a priority because living and teaching the gospel was so overwhelmingly more important? What if those things weren’t done because the church didn’t have enough money leftover after taking care of the poor, feeding the homeless, supporting missions, and loving people with its resources? 

Would that make the church less appealing? 

Would that hinder our outreach to the community? 

Would that attract the “wrong kind” of people? 

What if the church dwindle from 500 to 100 because those people who wanted more physical comforts  left? What if the church only grew to 50 instead of 200 because those people never came? How would the church look then? Would the church be worse off without them? Would the world start to call us a cult? Would they think we had lost our minds? Would they think we were too radical? Would our lives be out of balance? Would those who were left be unable to “relate” to others? 

Would the church look more or less like the church of Acts? 

Would we be better with less and with fewer?

And whose to say that they church wouldn’t grow bigger? Maybe there would be a crazy irony that when we do things we think will deter people, it might actually attract people and keep people. Maybe they would find that there is more substance to transformation. Maybe they would see that “radically different” is more intriguing than “just a barely different.” Maybe when people came to a church like this, they would know from the very beginning that change is expected when you encounter Jesus and instead of expecting God to make everything better in their lives, maybe they would expect that God will show them a totally different kind of joy that the rest of the world doesn’t understand. 

Maybe we would encourage people to be followers instead of fans. 

Maybe we would have fewer goats, but many more sheep.

What If Church Was Hard?

I had a friend who once told me that he had two churches - his regular church and his summer church. When he saw the puzzled look on my face, he explained that his regular church did not have air conditioning, so when it started getting hot in the summer, he attended a church that did.

Comfort and convenience is very important to us. And it seems like we work hard at making our churches comfortable and convenient. Long gone are the days of wooden pews. Now we have deep padded pews or, even better, chairs in climate controlled buildings with central heat and air conditioning. We provide treats and have espresso bars with all your favorite flavors. We limit the length of our services so they don’t go to long and make sure they begin and end at convenient times. We upgrade the microphones, the amps, the speakers, the mixing board, the instruments, and the acoustics so the music will be at its best. We even project the words on a screen so you don’t have to fumble around with a clumsy book. Even with that we are always looking for more - a upgraded kitchen, an expanded fellowship hall, an improved parking lot, newer carpet, more entertaining multi-media, and a service that ends before the Seahawks begin. And that is just what we do for Sundays.

But is it working?

Church attendance in America is on the decline. And the most common response is to try to figure out new ways to draw people in by appealing to their interests and their comforts and to make things even more convenient. We try to draw in men by starting small groups around cars, and hunting, and sports, and “manly” things. Women start knitting groups, and coffee clubs, and have shopping sprees. And these are often the “hooks” to draw “unbelievers” in to show them transformed lives through Christ...

What if we stopped worrying about the interests of the world? What if we stopped worrying about comfort and convenience? What if we stooped trying to cater to the wants and desires of attenders and potential attenders?

What if church was hard?

What if we had no chairs or pews? What if we didn’t care about acoustics? What if provided paper cups for water and forgot about treats and coffee? What if we let the pastor preach as long as he felt he needed to? What if we opened doors and windows in the summer and started services early in the morning to avoid the heat of the day? What if we minimized our heat and wore coats and brought blankets? What if we didn’t have a big enough parking lot and people had to walk a block or two or a mile or two to get to church? What if we didn’t have a kitchen? Or a fellowship hall? Or carpet? Or a computer and projector? I wonder if we could still manage to worship? I wonder if people would come?

There is a strange phenomenon that where the church is most severely persecuted, it tends to grow. Sometimes growth is explosive when persecution is at its worst. And the most stagnant of churches are often those who have it best. We have seen it repeated time and time again, and yet... We strive for comfort. We strive for convenience. We strive for the same things the rest of the world strives for and then we wonder why God does not seem alive to our attenders.

What if we had no conveniences to offer, but all we offered was the gospel - the real gospel. The gospel that says not to love the things of the world. The gospel that says to love your enemy. The gospel that says you will be persecuted for your faith. The gospel that says to give away your money. The gospel that says to care for the poor, the orphaned and the widowed. The gospel that says to lay down your life for your brother. The gospel that says that there is nothing on this earth worth anything apart from Jesus Christ. The gospel that says Jesus Christ gave his life for ours and asks us to give our life to him in return.

What if that was all we had to offer? Would people still come? Would you still come?