The point of the Church
One of my favorite retorts to denigration is the question: "What even is the point of you?"
It both subverts the intended insult previous to it, and also implies the ask-er serves no essential purpose themselves. To me, I've always found pointlessness a shameful prospect. Having a purpose has always been a critical part of how I see myself and my future. This has become an issue as concerns my self-image as a disabled person. But that's a reflection I'm not sure I'm ready to delve into just yet; I'm still working it out.
I'm not sure I fully understand the point of all those stylized lettered signs, chalkboards, and canvases found running rampant with pithy phrases at craft stores, home decor places, and pinterest, either. Most of them say such generic or useless stuff, and some are just downright, frustratingly wrong. For example, one of my least favorite quotes of all time: "God never gives you more than you can handle." I think, at best, I might be called a blunt person (at less than best, a very different "b" word is applied instead) so I'll not hesitate to say: that. is. bullshit.
I have absolutely, certainly, without a doubt, been given more than I could handle at times in this life. [I also don't believe God "gave" me all those burdens, but, again, that's a matter for a different blog entry so this one doesn't get too convoluted]
Having more than I can handle has forced me to stay humble, because I can't do it all; has forced me to rely on prayer and on my relationship with God; has helped me appreciate my family; and has shown me the point of the Church.
"What is the point of the Church?" you ask? Well, to be honest, I most often reflect on whether there's a point to it around 9:30 am Sunday morning, right after my alarm goes off to stop me from sleeping through it in peace. Usually, I conclude that the point of church is not to make me miss out on some blissful rest, and I get up and go. The point of the church is not related to free mediocre coffee, or seeing my friends, or worship. All those things can be done without going to church, and should (though I wish you all better-than-mediocre coffee in your lives, if possible). I don't go to church for healing, or prayer, or forgiveness, for those can be found outside the church doors, too.
As part of the church, when things get to be more than you can handle, I can't promise I'll be able to help, or heal, or make it right. There will be times that you sit in darkness, and very likely don't see a "great light". The church can't always change that. What the church can promise--what I can promise--is that you'll never sit in that darkness alone.
That's the power and purpose of the Church: hope and companionship. This is why we teach that the church is not a building, but the people. The people of God have an endurance that the building does not (for proof, just look at all the repairs done to keep our roof literally over our heads). That hope and endurance are things people need, more than they need worship or friends or coffee (yes, even coffee).
So I go to church.
Even if I still don't understand the "Live, laugh, love" sign hanging in the kitchen.
It both subverts the intended insult previous to it, and also implies the ask-er serves no essential purpose themselves. To me, I've always found pointlessness a shameful prospect. Having a purpose has always been a critical part of how I see myself and my future. This has become an issue as concerns my self-image as a disabled person. But that's a reflection I'm not sure I'm ready to delve into just yet; I'm still working it out.
I'm not sure I fully understand the point of all those stylized lettered signs, chalkboards, and canvases found running rampant with pithy phrases at craft stores, home decor places, and pinterest, either. Most of them say such generic or useless stuff, and some are just downright, frustratingly wrong. For example, one of my least favorite quotes of all time: "God never gives you more than you can handle." I think, at best, I might be called a blunt person (at less than best, a very different "b" word is applied instead) so I'll not hesitate to say: that. is. bullshit.
I have absolutely, certainly, without a doubt, been given more than I could handle at times in this life. [I also don't believe God "gave" me all those burdens, but, again, that's a matter for a different blog entry so this one doesn't get too convoluted]
Having more than I can handle has forced me to stay humble, because I can't do it all; has forced me to rely on prayer and on my relationship with God; has helped me appreciate my family; and has shown me the point of the Church.
"What is the point of the Church?" you ask? Well, to be honest, I most often reflect on whether there's a point to it around 9:30 am Sunday morning, right after my alarm goes off to stop me from sleeping through it in peace. Usually, I conclude that the point of church is not to make me miss out on some blissful rest, and I get up and go. The point of the church is not related to free mediocre coffee, or seeing my friends, or worship. All those things can be done without going to church, and should (though I wish you all better-than-mediocre coffee in your lives, if possible). I don't go to church for healing, or prayer, or forgiveness, for those can be found outside the church doors, too.
As part of the church, when things get to be more than you can handle, I can't promise I'll be able to help, or heal, or make it right. There will be times that you sit in darkness, and very likely don't see a "great light". The church can't always change that. What the church can promise--what I can promise--is that you'll never sit in that darkness alone.
That's the power and purpose of the Church: hope and companionship. This is why we teach that the church is not a building, but the people. The people of God have an endurance that the building does not (for proof, just look at all the repairs done to keep our roof literally over our heads). That hope and endurance are things people need, more than they need worship or friends or coffee (yes, even coffee).
So I go to church.
Even if I still don't understand the "Live, laugh, love" sign hanging in the kitchen.
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