Month: January 2023

Church. Why Bother?

‘All we are is dust in the wind’ – Kansas

I recently presented my church family a survey asking what questions they or others they knew had regarding faith.  Not surprisingly, someone asked why people need to go to church. It wasn’t a snarky question; it was legit.  They were relaying a question someone had asked them, someone who didn’t see the value of going to church, and wanted to know, I presume, how best to answer it.  Now, if it were a believer who asked such a question, I would of course give the standard answers: you should go to church because Jesus calls us to community; to worship; to grow; because we need each other; because the church is God’s chosen means to make disciples and spread the Gospel.  If all that failed, I might pull out Hebrews 10:25 and close with the old ‘because God says to’ bit.  But the question didn’t originate with a Christian.  It came from a professed unbeliever who thought church was a waste of time. 

How to answer such a person?  Why should they, or perhaps you, reader (for after all I don’t know who is reading this and shouldn’t presume you believe) bother with church? 

For starters, I let me say that if you are asking why you should go to church for religious reasons, why you should enter a building on a Sunday morning to take part in an institutionalized religious service, I don’t think you should.  Yes, I know that sounds weird coming from a pastor who leads religious services every Sunday, but honestly, being religious has never had much appeal to me.  If you go to church to ‘get religion,’ I’d say you would be better off to stay home.  That isn’t why I go to church, and it isn’t why you should go either.  

I think you should go to church for a different reason. 

I think you should go because it is the place where you just might discover what life is about. 

Perhaps you think you already know what life is about.  A lot of people do.  I see folks every day who find meaning and value in quite a noble place: in each other.[1]  In family.  In friendships.  In loving and being loved.  There are far worse places to find meaning, I’ll grant you that.  If you view the universe as nothing more than a vast cosmic accident, or, if you think accident too indelicate a way to put it, then something that just happens, ‘each other’ would be a good place to find meaning.  You should spend your time, transient though it may be, cherishing your loved ones, nurturing your relationships, and working to make the world a better place for them.   I see great appeal in this.  I have seen Carl Sagan’s Contact and am moved somewhat by the revelation in the story that, in the end, in all the universe, all we have is each other.  And so, if you believe that’s all there is, then by all means, love those around you as much as you can while you can.  Make the most of your journey from the cradle to the grave by loving and being loved.  You will live on in the memory of those you leave behind.  Perhaps in the effect you had on them.   

But of course, if you believe that is all there is, then you must acknowledge something.  Your memory in and impact on the hearts and minds of those around you may not be as great as you like to think.  Sure, you matter to those around you, but mattering is only a transient thing.  For one day, you will die, as will those who love you.  Your memory and impact may live on, in your children, your grandchildren, perhaps even others.  But one day, even those who remember you, even those you impacted, will pass from the scene as well.  Eventually, there will come a generation that no longer remembers you.  I mean, honestly, how much do you know about your great-great-grandparents?  Or their parents?  Not much I bet.  And as for your impact, well, perhaps you will leave an indelible mark on history, but for most of us, even our greatest impacts will one day become so attenuated they will hardly be felt at all.  In the end, a day will come when no one will remember you, and the life you lived will fade from both memory and history. 

All the more reason to make the most of life while you can, right?   To seize the day, love for all you’re worth, and give as much transient meaning to this transient life that you can.  For yes, if the physical universe is all there is, that’s really all we have.  All we can really do is make the best of what is, in the final analysis, a crappy situation.  Enjoy life and forget about the fact that in the end, even if you do manage a legacy that lives on in memory and history, even if you do make an impact that matters for millennia, one day even the universe itself will burn out, perhaps devour itself as stars collapse and black holes consume one another, until finally, as Steven Hawking suggested, everything ends in darkness, in a moment when, if anyone were around to see it happen (which there won’t be), they might say the only two words that could possibly sum up the meaning of the universe’s entire history: So what? 

That’s what life means if it’s just something that happens.  Fill your world with all the transient meaning you can.  But in the end, it will end.  Nothing will matter.  There will have been no meaning to it at all. 

But what if there’s more? 

What if life is more than a cosmic accident, something that just happens?  What if life is more than the inevitable if lucky conglomeration of just the right molecules?  What if life happened by design?  What if there is a Designer who imbues all life, each life, with eternal beauty and purpose?  What if we were made for more than fading memories and attenuated impacts?  What if, as the songwriter Steven Curtis Chapman sings, there is:

More to this life than living and dying,

More than just trying to make it through the day…

More to this life,

More than these eyes alone can see,

And there’s more than this life alone can be? [2]  

If there were, wouldn’t you like to know it? 

A church, that is a community of faith as opposed to an institutional religious event, is a place where people seek to know if this is true.  A place where people have opened up their hearts and minds to the possibility of more.  It is a place where you can hear the experiences of others who have found something more.  A place where people have found deeper meaning than the transience of memory and impact.  A place where people have found something more than a universe destined to end in darkness.  A place where people have found, okay I’ll come right out and say it: God. 

And in God, they have found more life and love than they ever imagined.  They have found a universe filled with love, created and held together by love, in which they may, by all means, cherish their loved ones, treasure their relationships, and work to make the world a better place, but may do so knowing that their relationships and loves are more than transient.  They are eternal. 

I would offer this to you, dear skeptic, as a reason to go to church.  That you might open your heart and mind to the stories of those who have opened theirs to such possibilities – and found something more.   

And maybe, just maybe, discover that they are right. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] I am aware that some people don’t find meaning here at all.  They are self-absorbed and could care less about those around them.  I am choosing, reader, to not count you among them.  If I am wrong about you, I would suggest that you should perhaps go to church to, if nothing else, learn to come out of yourself. 

[2] Steven Curtis Chapman, More to This Life. 

Finding God in Unexpected Places: A Post for Epiphany

Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the reign of King Herod. About that time some wise men from eastern lands arrived in Jerusalem asking, ‘Where is the newborn King of the Jews?  We saw his star as it rose, and we have come to worship him’ – Matthew 2:1-2

The story is as familiar as Christmas itself: three kings from the east – Balthasar, Gaspar and Melchior – who followed a star to Bethlehem to greet and worship the newborn Jesus.  The problem is that most imaginings of this visitation are off base.    In truth, we don’t know the names of the visitors, we have no idea how many there were (the Eastern Church tradition numbers them at twelve), nowhere in scripture are they classified as kings, and they didn’t arrive in Bethlehem until about two years after Jesus’ birth.  Most of what we ‘know’ of their story stems from tradition, song, and Hallmark cards. 

So what do we know?  Several things.

First, the visitors were Magi, ‘wise men’ whose expertise in astrology and dream interpretation made them coveted advisors in the courts of eastern kings.  

Second, as such, they hailed from ‘eastern lands,’ most likely the Parthian Empire (Rome’s greatest enemy).  That is to say: they were foreigners.  Outsiders.  Not Jewish.  That they became part of the Nativity story reminds us that the Kingdom of Christ is an inclusive Kingdom.   

Third, they were wealthy.  Our text doesn’t say so explicitly, but obviously they had the means to finance a long journey, not to mention the leisure time to do so.  Plus, they brought expensive gifts.

Fourth, they were seekers. Their willingness to take such a long journey tells us at least that much.  Henry Van Dyke, in his story, The Other Wise Men, imagined them as Zoroastrian priests who had been taught that there was an unresolvable battle between good and evil that would continue for all eternity.  Desiring an end to this eternal conflict, they found hope in the Jewish prophecy of a Messiah who would vanquish evil once and for all.  It’s just a theory, but it makes sense, and in any event, the Magi were certainly seeking truth – searching for someone who could provide better answers than they found in the stars. 

And finally, they were willing to follow their hearts.  I mean really, who follows a star?  Only people who are willing to stop thinking with their brains long enough to listen to their hearts, as the Magi surely did. 

Their journey began when, one day, the Magi, gazing into the heavens, became captivated by a celestial event.  Just what they saw is a matter of conjecture.  It may have been a miraculous light with no physical explanation.  Or perhaps a supernova, divinely timed to coincide with Jesus’ birth.  One plausible theory notes that around the time of Jesus’ birth, the planets Jupiter and Saturn came into conjunction three times in one year.  Since Jupiter was the ‘kingly’ planet and Saturn was thought by some eastern astrologers to represent the Jews, we can surmise the Magi may have concluded the Jewish Messiah was coming.  In any event, they followed this ‘star.’   They traveled far (afar, as the song goes), until they saw the city of Jerusalem, high and shining on a hill. 

And that is where they jumped to the wrong conclusion. 

You see, it wasn’t as if the star were shining like a laser beam at Jerusalem, calling out to the world, ‘The Messiah is here!’  It was just shining in the vicinity; just as much over the little town of Bethlehem six miles to the southwest as over the capitol city.  But seeing the grand city, they figured, ‘This must be the place!’ We can imagine them, racing around, asking questions, standing on the verge of a miracle, looking for information in the city streets, until finally, someone pointed them in the direction of King Herod’s palace.  ‘Of course!’ they thought.  ‘Where else would you look for a newborn king than in the halls of his father, the present king?’    Foolish Magi.  After beginning so well, they fell into the trap of looking for the world’s True King in the ‘expected’ place.

In truth, Herod’s palace was the last place on earth you would have found a Messiah whose mission was to set the world right again.  Herod was, by all historical accounts, a paranoid megalomaniac.  Appointed ‘King of the Jews’ by Augustus Caesar in the 40s BC, his reign as Rome’s puppet monarch was brutal.  In addition to the slaughter of the innocents for which he is best known, he killed anyone whom he even suspected of opposing him, including a wife and two of his own sons.   Augustus once said it was safer to be Herod’s pig than his son (not that he cared; he only wanted a yes man in Judea).  Matthew’s Gospel informs us that when Herod learned the Magi were looking for the newborn King of the Jews, he was deeply disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him.  That a man like Herod was deeply disturbed should come as no surprise.  A rival to his throne was the last thing he wanted.  As for the rest of Jerusalem, well, knowing their ruler, they knew how he would likely react to the news that Parthian wise men were looking for a new king.  They knew that Herod expeditiously deal with this new threat. 

And so, Herod called a couple of meetings.  First, he met with the leading Israeli priests and teachers of the Law to ask them where the Messiah was prophesied to be born.  Citing Micah 5:2, they unanimously agreed it was Bethlehem, the City of David.  Then, he met with the Magi.  Cold and calculating, yet seeming genuinely interested, he first ascertained from them when they had first seen the star and then graciously told them the place they were looking for was Bethlehem.  In exchange for this knowledge, he humbly asked that they return to the palace after they found the child, so that he too could worship him.  My guess is he looked about as genuine as Uriah Heap as he spoke (Dickens fans will catch the reference).  It’s hard to imagine the Magi’s suspicions weren’t aroused; they aren’t called wise men for nothing!   They knew Herod was up to no good and wondered why they had ever come to Herod’s palace in the first place. Surely, they must have thought, this was not the place to find the one who would save the world.

Stepping out into the cool, crisp night, the Magi saw the star once more.  As they watched the great turning of the heavens, they saw it come to rest more particularly over Bethlehem.  Matthew says that when this happened, they were filled with joy.  I do not think it was merely the kind of joy we associate with finding our destination at the end of a long quest.  It was the kind of joy you feel when your entire perception of the world is turned upside down and life turns out to be more magical than you imagined.  For as the Magi went to Bethlehem, and found the place they were looking for, they realized that the world’s True King wasn’t a typical king at all.  He had been born, not in a royal palace amid great fanfare, but in a humble home, in a small town, in an obscure way. 

Inside, they met Mary and Joseph and, of course, the now toddler Jesus (imagine Jesus as a toddler!).  They presented their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  We can imagine their eyes going wide as they talked with Jesus’ parents and learned the circumstances surrounding Jesus’ birth.  Of the angel Gabriel and his visits to Mary, Joseph, and Zechariah.  Of the shepherds and the angels.  Perhaps Joseph even gave them a tour of the place.  ‘Here, yes, here, by the animals, that’s where he was born.  No you heard me right, in the hay.  And that manger over there, that one, the one the dun cow is eating out of, that’s where we put him.  Yes, it was cold, but we wrapped him up as best we could, and it wasn’t such a bad cradle after all.’  The Magi must have felt rather foolish as Joseph spoke.  How could they have ever believed the world’s true king would have been born in Herod’s palace?  No, of course, he would be born here, among the poor, among the common folks, among those the rest of the world deemed to be of little or no account.  God didn’t play by the world’ rules.  He played by His own.  Yes, this was the kind of place to find the world’s True King.  This was the kind of place to find the Messiah.  This was the kind of place to find God. 

Today is the day set aside on the liturgical calendar as the day that marks the visit of the Magi, an event the Church dubbed Epiphany many centuries ago.  It’s the perfect word to describe the day.  Webster’s defines an epiphany as ‘a sudden, intuitive perception or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely or commonplace occurrence or experience.’    That’s precisely what happened to the Magi.  Before their visit, these wealthy, worldly wise fellows figured you would find the True King of the world in a palace, a place of wealth and power.  But after their visit, they realized that if you want to find the world’s True King, indeed, if you want to find God, you need to look elsewhere.  You need to look among the poor.  Matthew tells us that after their visit was over, and their suspicions about Herod confirmed in a dream, the Magi chose not to return to Herod’s palace as Herod had asked but went home by another road.  I’d say that was true in more ways than one.  My guess is the Magi lived the rest of their lives on another road.  For not only had they discovered the truth of God’s ways, but they had also discovered a new way to be human.  I bet you dollars to donuts they lived the rest of their lives with a little more compassion toward the weak.  That they took the time to be with the poor and vulnerable as often as they could.  For, after all, it had been among such as these that they had found the world’s True King. 

It’s the same for us you know.  Jesus, when he was much older, told us as much.  He told us, in the parable of the sheep and the goats (Matthew 25) that when we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, care for the sick, and visit those in prison, in other words, when we care for people in desperate need, we are in fact doing those things for him.  Our world is a fairly messed up place, and most of the time, most people, even most Christians, fail to realize this.  But if we only would, we could have our own epiphany, and discover that if to find Jesus, to find God, we too must look in the unexpected places.  We must look into the eyes of orphans, the homeless, children in poverty, the sick and the needy, the broken and the marginalized.  We must go to them, come alongside them, share our treasures with them, and love them as if they were Jesus himself.  Because, as he himself told us, in some deep, mystical and mysterious way, they are. 

Folks, we find God in the unexpected places.  In the homes and stomping grounds of the poor and powerless.  In the faces of the broken and hurting.  In the spaces the powerful disdain, the ones Shane Claiborne dubs the ‘abandoned places of empire.’ 

Today, at the start of a New Year, I am challenging myself to look for Jesus in the places where he said we would find him.  In the places those with worldly minds would never think to look.    To go to such locales, wherever they may be, that I, like the Magi, might find God in unexpected places.

May you find God’s blessing as you go there too. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent