Confessing a Broken Family

I have a confession. I really don't like coloring Easter eggs. There isn't a lot that frustrates me more than this. They are asymmetrical, porous, fragile, and an odd phase between being my breakfast, art, and a bird. I don't know who decided coloring on them would be fun or a good tradition but I am up for suggestions on something new. While egg coloring is not something that really awakens my creative genius, hiding them from 4 year olds does. I'm not sure if that means I will be a father who would rather hide his child's history project than help him with it but it might.

Thankfully there is a lot more to Easter than eggs and deceiving 4 year olds. In our house, there's always great food, lots of music, and usually some pretty good conversation around the kitchen table. This year’s topic: frustrations with Church, namely around issues of legalism, fundamentalism, and whether we should get a sticker for bringing a Bible to Sunday school. I sat and listened to the discussion which involved people with a collective church attendance record of nearly 95% of Sundays since the day they were born. If that stat is exaggerated... it's too low.

Anyways, as I sat listening to this fascinating discussion, I waited for the opportune time to spit out my favorite St.Augustine quote in relation to Church. "The church is a whore but she is also my mother." While I love that quote it really does nothing more than identify our relationship to the Church as "a really tough situation". It doesn't answer any tough questions or even really simple ones like “should I get a sticker when I bring my bible to church?”

As I continued to think about the issues we had raised, my mind traveled to a separate, more disappointing point of my Easter week. You see, Easter for me is always a little bit like Christmas. There is always great anticipation of what it means both in the sense of family and good times but also in a historical context of what Christ's birth, death and resurrection imply for my life. But similar to Christmas, there is a letdown. The Christmas letdown is a recognition of the planned festivities coming to an end, leaving empty pie tins and wrapping paper everywhere. The Easter letdown is a little more sobering. It's a letdown embraced by a personal recognition that I have not shown an accurate response to the news that has been presented to me. From a pulpit (or this year from a brisk mountain top), a man says "Christ has Risen!" and yet I mull over the words like I do when I watch Hoosiers for the 79th time. I know the words mean something deeper but ultimately Easter afternoon it resounds in my head, those words should rock you! In fact, what's worse is that I look for those forcing the words with fake enthusiasm and become annoyed at their phony facades in response to the good news. 

So I spent some time this week thinking about the topics from my holy week. First, our relationship to Church and second, our heart towards the resurrection. About mid-week I glanced over from my desk to the title of the book my wife was reading. "Dependent rational animals" –yes, the book is on humans. The interesting thing was how that D-word "dependent" seemed like a vulgar piece of graffiti scribbled across the beautiful binding. The thought of us as dependent beings irks us to our core. What could be more haunting or more grating on our ego than to be told we can't live without this or that or these or those. But in the case of the Church and the Resurrection, what hope can we have in living without them?

The resurrection is for all but is only recognized as a necessity by the broken. If I have failed to respond in my heart to the message of Easter, then it is because I am not nearly broken enough and have not clearly understood the power behind it. I have fallen back into the ways of my own false independence. The remedy for this involves more than recognizing we're all one phone call from our knees or that we all will need a Savior when we are not strong. Instead, it is to recognize repeatedly that this whole business of life is run on the power of the God of the Resurrection. Whether I'm assuming the uniformity of nature in the laws holding our universe in motion or the self-corrective energy that lives in our bodies or the delicious taste of raspberry pie, if I believe in a power that is not in the least derivative of the God of the Resurrection, I have failed to recognize both the power of God and the devastating emptiness that lies outside his design. Why, isn't all corruption bred from the misuse of something good?

The Church is also for all but is also only honestly valued by the broken. Sure, the Church has been taken advantage of by countless people, political parties, social movements, musical groups, stand-up comedians, motivational speakers, and the list goes on. But the Church has also been the weathered and bruised luggage of this aforementioned Truth of the hope of God and His Son. This is where Augustine's metaphor captures us quite well. We know the Church has had some terrible things done to her and has done some terrible things to others but she has also preserved our Truth, our Life, our Light. She is promiscuous in deed, but still is my mother who has given me life from that dark place.

Similar to our relationship with Christ, this does not mean that we just hope the Church is there when life brings us to our knees. It is a relationship that demands our effort to make sure the Church is there. It is like an infirmary waiting to heal with the richest of truth that was given by God, preserved by the Church, and has healed throughout history. Our duty is to keep the Church on the edge of society, where the dark meets the light, where the broken will fall. This is perhaps the most painful process of it all - to grow with society alongside it, never becoming fully part of it but never deserting it. If anyone thinks this is an easy position for a church, chances are they've either not cared enough about getting their hands dirty in service or they have their hands so far in the mud they are no longer able to do their work.

Augustine had it right; unfortunately, now what we seem to do is hold too tightly to either the "whore" or the "mother". Those that cling too tightly to the Church as a mother are those that over exaggerate the power of the Church and flirt with legalism. Those that cling too tightly to the Church as a whore reject the history of the Church and would like to sever all ties with it and/or point out the shortcomings of typical church. These people abandon church altogether or start "new" and "different" churches that are foolish enough to think they will not run into the same trappings of their adulterous mother. The problem, as I see it, is that we need both of those people in the same church.

You see, I'm not as much concerned with whether or not my niece gets a sticker for bringing her bible to church. The tragedy is when we have lost being intentionally analytical of our preservation of Truth. If we ever lose the tension between Truth and Grace that we stumble over every day, either in our Churches or in our personal faith, we will lose the humility that is required for a relationship with the ONE that is capable of uniting us. For that ONE has called the Church his bride and us his Children. So let us not hide the brokenness within her or us, for He knows her faults and ours. On the wedding day, he will stand and with an unshakable posture and unwavering presence, turn and greet his disheveled bride with an outstretched arm. At that moment, we will NOT be thinking of our mother’s bruises, messy hair, or muted dress. We will look unremittingly into the gracious eyes and loving hands of our Father as He accepts with joy his beloved bride and children. 

-Tim