Pew notes

Last Sunday during the sermon, something initiated the following train of thought, which I wrote out instead of listening attentively to the pastor (shame on me, right?). Interestingly enough, my words and the pastor's intersected several times, but we ended up in quite different places. These are still just notes.

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Is church meant to be more of a nuclear family or an extended family? Do we care only for those nearest to us, or do we extend hospitality to anyone and everyone? Our arms can reach only so far.

If we extend our concern and prayers to the far corners of the world, we might spread ourselves too thin. But if we save our care for the near and dear, we may become thick. Thick-witted, thick-waisted, thick-hearted. Or perhaps we only reach out to those whose thickness or thinness resembles our own.

If we only profess to care about the weak, the unloved, the poor (all those trendy causes of social justice), do we only assuage our sense of empathy, without honestly showing any concern? If we pray for those with AIDS yet refuse a few coins to the men and women on the street---they're just going to buy booze or drugs, we say---how does that make us more caring, open, accepting people?

And if we forgo proselytizing to simply lend a hand, do we forsake our one purpose---to win the world to God's love, by force if necessary? We can share a meal, some clothes, a few dollars, but only if followed by the message of man's sin, God's sorrow, Jesus and the cross, and, finally, the terrors of hell and the glories of heaven. What then? What if being a Christian means something more?

Need we be aware that we are "working for God" in order to be in ministry? Must we sing in church, teach Sunday School or mow the church lawns in order to truly be serving---working for the kingdom? What about those ministries that are so far behind the scenes that we ourselves are unaware of our contributions? Must we feel appreciated and of consequence? The answer is often "Yes." We work well when aided by praise. Perhaps "working for the kingdom" does more good for our own souls than for the souls of those we seek to reach. Is this good or bad?

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(I don't remember for sure, but I don't think I heard about the earthquake in Asia until after church.)

There is so much going wrong in the world that it is easy to disagree with something, or with several somethings. And there is so little we can fix right now that it is easy to throw up our hands and refuse to try. I know; I do this all the time. There is so much tragedy and senselessness that it is easy to feel hopeless. It is easy to make the "trendy causes" tragically beautiful, to put them on a pedestal far beyond our reach, in a sort of dim yet glorious haze. (Self-effacing irony here.)

"It's too terrible," we tell ourselves. "It's so sad."

We pray. We talk about how we wish we could do something. We create this world in which we are observers of all wrong; never doers, never intercessors. We want to be healers, but we don't know how to begin. We don't want to do it just to make ourselves feel better, but we can't find another reason.

Comments

[caro]

I think the basic question underlying your pew notes is the same that haunts me the majority of the time. I feel I need to do something to help but no matter what I do it never feels like enough and I question whether or not I do it out of a genuine desire to help or out of a need to assuage my own guilt at not needing the same level of assistance or my guilt of instantly judging people, almost as a reflex action. Let me know if you find an answer!