Today was my semi-annual dentist visit, and it was, as expected, a mixed experience. On the one hand, my teeth feel more clean and fresh than they have in...well...six months, I guess. On the other hand, my gums hurt like the dickens, and it's my own fault for not flossing as much as I should.
Overall, I feel great about getting back in the habit of seeing a dentist regularly, but it took a long time to get back to it. As in, before moving to Catonsville, I'm pretty sure the last time I was on my parents' insurance plan. The reasons why I stopped going were obvious at first--didn't have great insurance during seminary--but then became more blurry as time went on. And it occurs to me that this might be a parallel and a point of understanding for me, of what it is that makes folks stay away from church for months and even years at a time. It's always been a part of my life, and maybe has for you too, and that's why it's especially important to have these "connection points" to help understand the increasing number of folks who do not worship anywhere, and haven't for a long time, if ever. Here are some things that kept me away from the dentist...
1. The Precipitating Event: Graduating College. I did not graduate college thinking, "Oh, I'm so relieved I don't have to go to the dentist anymore!" I wanted to go; I just couldn't make it happen in that chapter of my life. Anytime a big thing changes in your life, lots of little things change too. So it is with worship. Maybe you graduate high school, you move, you have a baby, you switch job schedules, you get married, you take a long trip somewhere, and before long, you haven't worshiped in a year, and it's hard to get back. My experience is that the big traumatic conflicts, or the fundamental shifts in faith perspective, happen far less often in our lives than simple changes in routine.
2. The Guilt. Oh, the Guilt. What's funny about going to the dentist is everybody I know basically believes in going to the dentist. I was among them. And yet, for the better part of a decade, I did not go. And the worst thing was, the longer it got since I went, the harder it was to imagine going. Like those folks who give me the line, "Oh, I think that church would fall down if I walked in those doors", I had this deep sense of dread. The dentist will ream me out. The dentist will get up in my face and shout at me for not flossing. I will have a hundred cavities. They'll just pull all my teeth out and give me dentures. The reality, however, was that once I found a dentist and made an appointment, it ended up being a pretty chill encounter. Got the teeth cleaned. No cavities. Actually got a compliment for brushing. The guilt was much ado about nothing. I would venture to say about our congregation (and I'd better be right!) that the guilt trip folks imagine after being gone awhile will simply not take place. But in order to learn that, you have to come...
3. "Busyness". It took us a while, and a lot of work, to find a dentist. It's phone calls, and web sites, and getting recommendations from friends, and a lot of stuff that's easy to put on the back burner. It's kind of a low priority, honestly, unless you're one of those super-disciplined, organized people who sits down on a quiet day and pays bills and balances checkbooks and dusts, and if you are, you have my deep respect, because I'm more of the "sit in front of the TV and try my level best to recover from the whirlwind of a week I've had" type of guy. Oh, we are so busy as a culture. Too busy to eat right, too busy to care for our teeth, too busy to dust, and way too busy to worship. And it really does take a lot of work to find a congregation that seems to "fit" for you and your family. And I can tell you that it's worth it, and that God does have a church in mind for you, but really, you won't believe me until you find that church.
4. Forgetfulness. Let's call it what it is. Honestly, as busy as we were, the thought occurred to me, "man, we should go find a dentist" about as often as we should have been going in the first place...maybe once every six months or so.
That is, until it was time for Maggie to go for the first time. That changed everything, because in helping Maggie on this first step of caring for her teeth, it finally occurred to Laura and me that we also have teeth, and it would look pretty silly if we asked Maggie to do something that we ourselves could not be bothered to do. So we became a dentist-going family yet again. I've heard this again and again with church...that it's concern not for our own spirits, but for our children's spirits, that brings us back to worship. And yeah, I think God can work with that. Maybe the love we have for our kids is one way God can teach us love for the children of the world. Maybe it's through our concern that they learn to be "good people" that God can convict us of our repeated failed attempts to be "good": about our need for God's grace, and to hear those words of forgiveness each day.
Finding a dentist is a pain. Going there takes time out of your day, and it's not always your top priority, and sometimes it hurts, and once in a while they find something you wish wasn't there. But I go because accountability to others is a major way God works with us. Just brushing by myself isn't going to cut it.
So it is with worship.
Friday, June 13, 2014
Thursday, June 5, 2014
"Off the Grid" in Christ
"All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved."
Acts 2:44-47
Well, It's been about fifteen years since I've had a role in a full-length play (even longer since I've dared to appear in a dance number--and if you come see the show, you'll know that's for good reason!) but this weekend, I'll be joining with some other members of Salem, and our surrounding community, to put on a production of, "Oliver!" This is, of course, based on the Charles Dickens novel, Oliver Twist, in which the title character, an orphan relegated to a workhouse in awful conditions, eventually finds solace in a community of pickpockets in the slums of 19th century London.
I'm amazed the more I think of this story, and--though of course this instance of it existed only in the imagination of Charles Dickens--how often the basic elements of it repeat themselves in human history. Seems like every time the formal structures of a society make up their minds to ignore some need, or stop caring for some of God's children, somewhere "off the grid", up like weeds pop up these little communities of care for one another. They are by no means perfect, but up they pop, as an indictment of the society itself.
It occurs to me that there is a prophetic spirit buried within the human community. In the Bible, God often mentions writing God's law--God's expectations for human life together--on the hearts of the people. Not in a book, or in a societal structure, but more like, somehow encoded in our DNA: right from wrong, justice from injustice.
The technical term for this type of view is "natural law," and I'll warn you, it's not conventionally viewed as very "Lutheran." We Lutherans believe that humans by ourselves--without God's word--are not capable of doing anything but sinning and falling short of God's expectations. If we took the natural law principle and did "what is within is," society would look even worse than it does today.
But at the same time, "God's word" and "human institutions" are two very different things. And so, when those in power fall asleep at the switch--when kids start to go hungry, when debts get out of control and whole nations are taken into indentured slavery, when empty worship and piety starts to stand in for real acts of mercy in the world--then God's word goes "off the grid," into communities willing to do the work of love which those who rule over them are not.
One such community arose around the prophetic ministry of Jesus of Nazareth, and continued after his unjust death at the hands of those in power. Not only did his community continue, but they continued and grew stronger with the express belief that his presence continued with them, guiding them each step of the way. They took care of the widows, the orphans, the slaves, the prostitutes, the ones that their public institutions had agreed to ignore, and they did it not to win elections or campaign dollars, but because they believed it was their commission from God to do so. And they believed--probably rightly--that if they didn't care for each other, no one else would.
It's funny where this prophetic spirit will arise. Whether it's in the surprisingly egalitarian pirate crews of the 17th and 18th centuries, or the grass roots Catholic Worker Movement arising out of the poverty of the depression era, God's Word often does not wait for approval from a president, a congress, a pope or a pastor. It just gets working in the heart of a community, and wild things start to happen. Like Grace.
Acts 2:44-47
Well, It's been about fifteen years since I've had a role in a full-length play (even longer since I've dared to appear in a dance number--and if you come see the show, you'll know that's for good reason!) but this weekend, I'll be joining with some other members of Salem, and our surrounding community, to put on a production of, "Oliver!" This is, of course, based on the Charles Dickens novel, Oliver Twist, in which the title character, an orphan relegated to a workhouse in awful conditions, eventually finds solace in a community of pickpockets in the slums of 19th century London.
I'm amazed the more I think of this story, and--though of course this instance of it existed only in the imagination of Charles Dickens--how often the basic elements of it repeat themselves in human history. Seems like every time the formal structures of a society make up their minds to ignore some need, or stop caring for some of God's children, somewhere "off the grid", up like weeds pop up these little communities of care for one another. They are by no means perfect, but up they pop, as an indictment of the society itself.
It occurs to me that there is a prophetic spirit buried within the human community. In the Bible, God often mentions writing God's law--God's expectations for human life together--on the hearts of the people. Not in a book, or in a societal structure, but more like, somehow encoded in our DNA: right from wrong, justice from injustice.
The technical term for this type of view is "natural law," and I'll warn you, it's not conventionally viewed as very "Lutheran." We Lutherans believe that humans by ourselves--without God's word--are not capable of doing anything but sinning and falling short of God's expectations. If we took the natural law principle and did "what is within is," society would look even worse than it does today.
But at the same time, "God's word" and "human institutions" are two very different things. And so, when those in power fall asleep at the switch--when kids start to go hungry, when debts get out of control and whole nations are taken into indentured slavery, when empty worship and piety starts to stand in for real acts of mercy in the world--then God's word goes "off the grid," into communities willing to do the work of love which those who rule over them are not.
One such community arose around the prophetic ministry of Jesus of Nazareth, and continued after his unjust death at the hands of those in power. Not only did his community continue, but they continued and grew stronger with the express belief that his presence continued with them, guiding them each step of the way. They took care of the widows, the orphans, the slaves, the prostitutes, the ones that their public institutions had agreed to ignore, and they did it not to win elections or campaign dollars, but because they believed it was their commission from God to do so. And they believed--probably rightly--that if they didn't care for each other, no one else would.
It's funny where this prophetic spirit will arise. Whether it's in the surprisingly egalitarian pirate crews of the 17th and 18th centuries, or the grass roots Catholic Worker Movement arising out of the poverty of the depression era, God's Word often does not wait for approval from a president, a congress, a pope or a pastor. It just gets working in the heart of a community, and wild things start to happen. Like Grace.
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