I have now spent more time in congregational living than out of it. Worship services and mission trips and small groups and potlucks are activities of this haggard bride called the church. She is a mess and messy and broken. Nobody is defending the perfection of the people of God. We’re perpetually out of sync, and for whatever reason we feel like white-knuckling the grace of God is the only way to keep hold of it. With eyes wide open we gather and confess and sing and receive and yet still, we leave broken people.
Sharp edges abound in the church.
Eugene Peterson says “The church is a dangerous place.” I don’t disagree. In the course of our particular church’s existence, we’ve literally had hundreds and hundreds of people come and then go. Some leave gracefully. But most leave another way. I don’t blame them. I’ve personally hurt my fair share of people along the way. People exit for good reason. Some are angry or misunderstood or overworked. Lots of bruised egos and hurt feelings. The church is a hard place to be known. So people leave.
But boy, does the leaving hurt! I have cried a million tears.
And the coming is confusing too. It turns out our church isn’t the only one not nailing this thing called gospel life. Each week new faces show up to our building for the first time with the same story—I’ve been hurt. Again, I don’t blame them. The hurt is real. The stories are true—church is a dangerous place.
Sharp edges abound in this ocean of grace.
Like marriage, the church is hard and full of lulls; the ebb and flow of matrimonial covenant runs right alongside the ebb and flow of church life. The humdrum of living sometimes puts me to sleep to the needs of those I have walked beside for decades. And it gets boring. Hurt feelings are inevitable too, and they get interpreted as God’s voice to leave and not look back. I convince myself that church, like marriage, should be easier.
It’s not. We have sharp edges. We know how to make others bleed.
When I was in middle school my family used to spend the summers at the beaches of St. Augustine, Florida. Hours would be spent looking for sea glass. We would collect hundreds of these multi-colored treasures and store them away. Sea glass, it turns out, is only a treasure after it has been submerged and washed over for decades in the billion gallons of the ocean. Ironically, sea glass started out as a Seagram’s Cooler. Or more likely, a Bud Lite bottle smashed to bits on the rocks of San Marco’s fort. But the sharp edges got dragged out with the tide and swallowed up under the weight of the Eastern Seaboard.
The currents come in and go out for decades and the edges get worn down. The razor-like corners are buffed to something soft and beautiful. What started off as something ugly, the weight of the waves eventually transforms.
This is the church.
Hundreds of sharp edges gather. It’s dangerous in close quarters. We do bleed. We have the scars to prove our tenure in this precarious family. But then the ocean of grace comes crashing in. Our gathering is like the moon commanding a high tide. Wave after wave after wave comes rushing in. We are crushed under the weight of this beautiful death. Our edges get worn off. What made others bleed now becomes a treasure to God. He holds us up as testimonies that he can take the most broken things and turn them for good.
Your writing is getting really really good. While its always been good (well, maybe not always… can I say: the diarrhea sermon) Seriously, your skills are really developing. Keep it up. Who knows who will run across what you’re doing? God has his hand on you in ways you don’t or can’t know. One day, when you least expect it, he’ll tip his hand and you’ll see what he’s been doing all along. I know there are days when you wonder what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, and if you can keep doing it. You are building a kingdom, the kingdom, one brick at a time. Some days you get a lot of bricks laid and you finish a wall. Other days your wall falls down because the cement didn’t set right. Some days you just get rained out and have to stay home. Either way, no matter what the passer by’s see, you are making progress, the bricks are being laid and the concrete is setting. The kingdom is being built.
When people drive by on the road, they never think about the brick mason, the one building the wall. They may even only notice it when the wall is half way finished, or even when the building is completed, but everyday the one who sells the bricks and concrete see your progress. He knows how you are progressing, he sees the bricks going out the door, one at a time, a truck load at a time, but he sees all.
God sees all you’re doing, sees every effort, sees your study, hears your conversations and hears your prayers. He knows the blueprint and will show it to you one section at a time.
I know as a father you want Conner to stand on your shoulders and do things you could only dream of. You invest, you pray, you teach, you are there….. while I can’t claim much in your spiritual life, I have that same feeling and you make me proud.
Don Foley called me at 7:30 tonight (Wed.) and the first words out of his mouth was:
“It’s 7:30 on a Wed. night and 20 years ago, we were rocking. God was doing something huge”
You were part of that. Christy and I were talking about it when the call ended and I told her that when I hit my ceiling, when I couldn’t go the next level, couldn’t connect and couldn’t draw kids the way I had done before, God sent me you. While we all laughed at the gold fish eating, or peanut butter on the arm pits, even that God was using you to draw people to himself. Many kids came to see, came to experience, and came to Christ….. and you were as much a part of that as anyone. I got to see the call of God on your life and saw you explore what that would look like in the beginning, and its so awesome to now see how you are still drawing people to himself.
I think about how you and Amy got to 20 years of marriage….. one day at a time, one resolved argument at a time, one week, one month, one year at a time, and you blink and 20 years have gone by. Thats what you’re doing at the church, one day at a time, one sermon, one series, one season at a time.
I’m so proud to watch what God is doing through you and am so proud to call you one of my most trusted friends.
Love you more than you’ll ever know. You’ll be doing my funeral so don’t forget it!
Man,that was a tear jerker. You are my hero in pretty much every way possible. No joke. You have taught me how to love, forgive, get mad, preach, correct, be corrected and pretty much everything in between. So grateful you are in my life.
Really enjoyed your words of truth. Causes one to ponder and look with fresh eyes upon the bride. I believe in the awakening of the bride of Christ in the last days. I long to see what God’s desire is for His body. Be blessed in Him.
Thanks Rick! I appreciate your encouragement. So grateful for you and churches like GCC in our city.
Jon,
I hope you don’t ever think your time in ministry has been an accident. All of your life’s experiences have molded you into someone who has a unique way of sharing the gospel.
As a sidenote: I didn’t know sea glass existed until I read this post. Interesting stuff, man. Lol
Thank you my friend! So appreciate you.