I had fun in church last Sunday. But something was nagging at me.
I enjoyed the place and the people and the singing. It was a big church, and the building felt new and spacious and well lit. It felt like a mall. I'm told that is the goal of architects and designers when they design a church building in the suburbs: They want it to feel like the mall because we are comfortable in a mall. They want us to feel comfortable.
Okay. Fine. So what was nagging at me?
It took me a while to put my finger on it. I was having fun, smiling, reconnecting with old friends, sipping coffee from the coffee bar in the foyer, looking around the auditorium, admiring the layout, wondering if we should incorporate some of their ideas at Southwest. Then I was singing and worshiping and feeling really good. Then I was surprised to see an old friend and was excited and feeling great. I was having a great Sunday!
But something quiet and subtle was nagging at me.
Later that afternoon I was trying to communicate my nagging discomfort to my wife and friends when I remembered something I had read in a book by Shane Claiborne:
I enjoyed the place and the people and the singing. It was a big church, and the building felt new and spacious and well lit. It felt like a mall. I'm told that is the goal of architects and designers when they design a church building in the suburbs: They want it to feel like the mall because we are comfortable in a mall. They want us to feel comfortable.
Okay. Fine. So what was nagging at me?
It took me a while to put my finger on it. I was having fun, smiling, reconnecting with old friends, sipping coffee from the coffee bar in the foyer, looking around the auditorium, admiring the layout, wondering if we should incorporate some of their ideas at Southwest. Then I was singing and worshiping and feeling really good. Then I was surprised to see an old friend and was excited and feeling great. I was having a great Sunday!
But something quiet and subtle was nagging at me.
Later that afternoon I was trying to communicate my nagging discomfort to my wife and friends when I remembered something I had read in a book by Shane Claiborne:
"While the ghettos may have their share of violence and crime, the suburbs are the home of the more subtle demonic forces--numbness, complacency, comfort--and it is these that can eat away at our souls." - Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution, p. 227
And then Claiborne quoted his mother:
"'I have come to see that we Christians are not called to safety, but we are promised that God will be with us when we are in danger, and there is no better place to be than in the hands of God.' Perhaps the mose dangerous place for a Christian to be is in safefy and comfort."
And that is what I think was subtly nagging at me: I was extremely comfortable in an all-white, suburban, fun, well-organized worship service. And I think I could sense the demons of complacency and comfort and numbness trying to draw me in.
And it made me uncomfortable.
Comments
Don't let those feelings diminish what I perceive as a truly God-given moment on Sunday when you were able to connect not only with God Himself, but also with your fellow man. Sometimes those moments come all too rarely, especially for those who have chosen to allow God to call them to the ministry.
We sometimes berate ourselves to death, telling ourselves that if we feel good about something, it must be wrong; that there must be something inherently sinful with having moments where we share joy in peace and harmony with both God and others.
We take on the martyr complex by thinking of all the starving children or all of the missionaries in harm's way, or some other legitimate danger; then telling ourselves how bad we are because we are not at that moment in some kind of mortal danger.
God calls us to His service. Most of the time, that service is something similar to raising children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, working heartily as to the Lord, praying without ceasing, or being content whatever situation one is in.
These things are nothing dramatic, at least in our minds; nevertheless, nothing is more important.
Peace.
JAY
Thanks for the comment. I can't tell, however, if we're speaking the same language.
What I was trying to say was that I felt very comfortable and relaxed in that setting and that it helped me to feel worshipful. And that's great. It was a meaningful and encouraging and joyful experience for me.
At the same time, however, I felt a tension. I looked around at all the hundreds of wealthy, middle class, highly capable, gifted-by-God people all around me and felt that something terribly wasteful was happening. They were all, like me, sitting passively, playing the spectator sport we call church.
When I look intently at Jesus Christ, imagining him on the cross.... I guess I don't think Jesus came to die so that we could be spectators.