Where two or more are gathered
Stephen posted a picture on our family group yesterday. It is a picture of the aftermath of the fire in Notre Dame. In the foreground is the wreckage of burnt history and in the background is a beautiful perfect gold cross. I couldn't help but smile at what I perceive to be God's humour.
A lot of people are angry about the response to the burning of this iconic cathedral and feel that rather than mourn the burning of a decrepit old building we should be focusing our energy on things that actually need saving. Like our planet.
I have a similar response to these people but for entirely different reasons. I want to know if people are devastated because a national treasure has burnt down (one which the church battled to raise money to fix) or are they mourning the loss of a place of worship? My gut goes with the former.
And this idea of places of worship then got me thinking about 'church'.
Last week we tried to go to church for the first time since Eva's birth. By the time the sermon started I was breastfeeding Eva in the moms room (which was not connected up to the service so I couldn't hear or see anything) and Stephen was outside with Gray at the jungle gym. So neither of us actually heard the sermon. I then joined a couple of other parents with babies in the church coffee shop and we chatted for the rest of the service. When I joked that neither Stephen nor I had actually managed to be in the church my sage friend Clint gestured to the group of us shooting the breeze, 'this is church'.
And he was totally right.
I still don't know how we got from a humble, all encompassing messiah who preached anywhere, to anyone, about everything to where we are now. So many of our churches are literally the opposite of who Christ is. The wealth, the dogma, the rituals, the indoctrination. How did we get here? Friends of mine wanted their child christened in a church. The absolute rubbish they were given as to why their son could not be christened in that church was staggering. Surely a soul committed to God is a soul committed to God? Period.
I get that we are creatures of habit and comfort. The day the Winterton Methodist Church started using a projector instead of hymn books was the closest my grandfather came to having a stroke. And don't get me started on the day we stopped singing with an organ and started using a piano. There was much mumbling from the second pew on the left.
And the problem with habit is that it becomes stagnant and predictable. How many people have been bored into not believing in God because they had to go to church every Sunday and sit still and listen and sit and stand and sing and then buy the Sunday paper and go home to continue with real life. Real life - a life completely divorced from the ritualised world of 'church'.
My best experience of church was a church that wasn't in a church. It was in different people's houses and it was illegal. I won't go into the finer details for fear that my writing could in any way jeopardize this church but it was in a place where Christianity was controlled and where Christians were in the serious minority. And any discussion of our faith with the locals could result in terrifying consequences. It was the first time that I had to fight for my faith, to take a risk for my faith and it was glorious. The reason we had to meet in different houses every Saturday (this should give you a clue as to where I was) was so that we could not be monitored, so that it would just look like a casual gathering. And so we would all pile into someone's living room, on the chairs, on the floor, in the garden and musicians from all over the world would assemble to play worship music and children would dance and play and messages would be shared. Afterwards much like the feeding of the 500 everyone would take out whatever food they had to offer and we would all feast together with food from all over the world. It was true fellowship.
I can't help but think that that is what Jesus had intended.
I often miss that fellowship when I am sitting on some hard wooden pew.
I understand that in order to prevent false teaching there has to be some form of regulation because we know what happens when a group of people fall under the spell of a charismatic but false leader. I just wish that we could bring Christ into all our spaces and not just leave Him to be alone in a dusty old building that is crumbling and surrounded by gargoyles only to be taken out on a Sunday.
When I was teaching in the aforementioned place I had the task of teaching an unusual class. The class only had two students. A young, timid girl of about 20 and an extremely powerful and high ranking military man in his 40s. In any other circumstances these two would not be seen together but it was my task to prepare them for a very important international English exam. Because it was just the three of us we got to know each other very well despite the fact that we could not have been more disparate if we tried. In the final lesson I had with these two the man asked me about Jesus. When he said His name he said it in a whisper and there was a hint of awe and terror in his voice. Both their eyes lit up and it was as if the most taboo subject had been brought up. With as much sensitivity and self control as I could muster I tried to tell them as simply as I could about Him. And it was the first time that they had ever heard the story. If there is anything you have to do as a believer before you die it has to be to tell someone the story of Christ for the first time. No matter how hard I tried the Holy Spirit burst into that room because two or more were gathered and I have never felt so full of the words of my Lord for these two people. By the end of the lesson all three of us were crying. And after that lesson I never saw them again. But my prayer is that from that day on the name of Jesus brings them the same sense of love and belonging that it did on that day. And that is has perhaps given them the courage to seek more.
So this Easter I pray that wherever you are you will gather in His name for where two or more are gathered there He will be. If the mention of His name has become an eye roll and a yawn place yourself in the shoes of the first Christians and remember the awe with which His name was whispered in the homes of the first believers. And then let the teachings of your church spill out into everyday life - in the coffee shops, the bedtime story, , the office, the gym, the classroom, the real world.
Let us never take for granted the freedom and grace we receive this Easter when we whisper that name.
Jesus.
A lot of people are angry about the response to the burning of this iconic cathedral and feel that rather than mourn the burning of a decrepit old building we should be focusing our energy on things that actually need saving. Like our planet.
I have a similar response to these people but for entirely different reasons. I want to know if people are devastated because a national treasure has burnt down (one which the church battled to raise money to fix) or are they mourning the loss of a place of worship? My gut goes with the former.
And this idea of places of worship then got me thinking about 'church'.
Last week we tried to go to church for the first time since Eva's birth. By the time the sermon started I was breastfeeding Eva in the moms room (which was not connected up to the service so I couldn't hear or see anything) and Stephen was outside with Gray at the jungle gym. So neither of us actually heard the sermon. I then joined a couple of other parents with babies in the church coffee shop and we chatted for the rest of the service. When I joked that neither Stephen nor I had actually managed to be in the church my sage friend Clint gestured to the group of us shooting the breeze, 'this is church'.
And he was totally right.
I still don't know how we got from a humble, all encompassing messiah who preached anywhere, to anyone, about everything to where we are now. So many of our churches are literally the opposite of who Christ is. The wealth, the dogma, the rituals, the indoctrination. How did we get here? Friends of mine wanted their child christened in a church. The absolute rubbish they were given as to why their son could not be christened in that church was staggering. Surely a soul committed to God is a soul committed to God? Period.
I get that we are creatures of habit and comfort. The day the Winterton Methodist Church started using a projector instead of hymn books was the closest my grandfather came to having a stroke. And don't get me started on the day we stopped singing with an organ and started using a piano. There was much mumbling from the second pew on the left.
And the problem with habit is that it becomes stagnant and predictable. How many people have been bored into not believing in God because they had to go to church every Sunday and sit still and listen and sit and stand and sing and then buy the Sunday paper and go home to continue with real life. Real life - a life completely divorced from the ritualised world of 'church'.
My best experience of church was a church that wasn't in a church. It was in different people's houses and it was illegal. I won't go into the finer details for fear that my writing could in any way jeopardize this church but it was in a place where Christianity was controlled and where Christians were in the serious minority. And any discussion of our faith with the locals could result in terrifying consequences. It was the first time that I had to fight for my faith, to take a risk for my faith and it was glorious. The reason we had to meet in different houses every Saturday (this should give you a clue as to where I was) was so that we could not be monitored, so that it would just look like a casual gathering. And so we would all pile into someone's living room, on the chairs, on the floor, in the garden and musicians from all over the world would assemble to play worship music and children would dance and play and messages would be shared. Afterwards much like the feeding of the 500 everyone would take out whatever food they had to offer and we would all feast together with food from all over the world. It was true fellowship.
I can't help but think that that is what Jesus had intended.
I often miss that fellowship when I am sitting on some hard wooden pew.
I understand that in order to prevent false teaching there has to be some form of regulation because we know what happens when a group of people fall under the spell of a charismatic but false leader. I just wish that we could bring Christ into all our spaces and not just leave Him to be alone in a dusty old building that is crumbling and surrounded by gargoyles only to be taken out on a Sunday.
When I was teaching in the aforementioned place I had the task of teaching an unusual class. The class only had two students. A young, timid girl of about 20 and an extremely powerful and high ranking military man in his 40s. In any other circumstances these two would not be seen together but it was my task to prepare them for a very important international English exam. Because it was just the three of us we got to know each other very well despite the fact that we could not have been more disparate if we tried. In the final lesson I had with these two the man asked me about Jesus. When he said His name he said it in a whisper and there was a hint of awe and terror in his voice. Both their eyes lit up and it was as if the most taboo subject had been brought up. With as much sensitivity and self control as I could muster I tried to tell them as simply as I could about Him. And it was the first time that they had ever heard the story. If there is anything you have to do as a believer before you die it has to be to tell someone the story of Christ for the first time. No matter how hard I tried the Holy Spirit burst into that room because two or more were gathered and I have never felt so full of the words of my Lord for these two people. By the end of the lesson all three of us were crying. And after that lesson I never saw them again. But my prayer is that from that day on the name of Jesus brings them the same sense of love and belonging that it did on that day. And that is has perhaps given them the courage to seek more.
So this Easter I pray that wherever you are you will gather in His name for where two or more are gathered there He will be. If the mention of His name has become an eye roll and a yawn place yourself in the shoes of the first Christians and remember the awe with which His name was whispered in the homes of the first believers. And then let the teachings of your church spill out into everyday life - in the coffee shops, the bedtime story, , the office, the gym, the classroom, the real world.
Let us never take for granted the freedom and grace we receive this Easter when we whisper that name.
Jesus.
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