I was walking through the woods with my daughter. She's three, so her days are filled with new revelations, like how water splashes when a stone gets thrown in or that the breeze on her face also makes the trees sing. Three is great because jabbers and giggles have become words and phrases. I hear her discover and get to rediscover. I answer the simplest question and am reminded of insights I'd forgotten. I feel no pressure to be anything more than I am, and discover again the peace of just being.
I can't recall life without the church. The son of a minister, church was life and life was church. I'm grateful for the wealth given as I was taught how Christians could impact and the basics of our beliefs. I had great experiences in youth groups and pot-luck suppers, Christian schools and summer camps. I'm thankful that my family was a part of a larger family, united through one Lord, faith and baptism.
But lately, I've been wondering: were we too focused on doing? Had we forgotten how to be? We learned in studies, worked in kitchens, served in meetings and raised funds. But recently, I find myself looking for something else; I want to do less and be more. I want to stop trying to know the thousand, to accomplish the great goals, to build the church and pay for its ministries.
I want to start knowing, really knowing; more than the passing nod, or collegial familiarity. I want to know what the world looks like to a child, a single parent or a long-time member of the church. I want to hear their stories and see their perspectives; to know God as they have. I'm not sure I care about buildings, budgets and boards. I want to hear, to be real, to know.
This makes me rethink what I mean when I call the church a community. Is it a place where I come to do? So why not just join service agency? Is it a place where I come spend time with others? Why not just join a social club? Even worship can be seen as doing the right acts in order to attribute worth to God. I want more. I want my faith community to be a place where I know, and am known, even if I'm working or worshipping, socializing or serving. A place where these are means to an end: being, hearing and knowing, both with God and God's people. Could all these doings be the walk in the woods, while the real community is found in the conversation?
Community like this isn't about the large group, or goals accomplished. It hardly seems feasible with any more than a few. And, this is the beauty of the church. The men I cook breakfast with, the committee I implement with, the team I serve dinner with—all these are opportunities to form true community. The work was never the goal, nor the defining characteristic of our community. But, they are opportunities to be, to listen and to know. Maybe this is what Jesus meant when he told what his answer would be to those who defended themselves with the all they had done. “Yeah, but, I never knew you.” Maybe the church never needed changing. Maybe I did.
