Church Biology 101

I'm not going to lie, or pretend; We skipped church this past weekend. Altogether.

We went camping with my brother and sister-in-law instead, and decided that we would miss a week, since we added the 5th of May to add Orthodox Easter to the menu. 

That being said, I would like to take this Tuesday morning to expound upon an excerpt from the movie "Here Comes the Boom" (this blog has stirred in me an uncanny eye for anecdotal material from pop culture herein to share).

The context of the clip is entirely irrelevant. Listen to his biology lesson.

The local church gets like stagnating cells; We kick and scream with one another, pointing fingers, assigning blame when in reality, the Body of Christ is failing to operate how it should. We are infected. At large, denominational differences have festered to the point of sickness.

Our sickness is self-righteousness where there should be humility. Or contentment where there should be striving. Or staying the same where there should be change. Or relevance, at all cost, even at the sake of reverence.

Any of these things, and many more, cause stagnancy. And when that happens, "it ain't good." But all that decays can be restored, and eventually, if we stop bucking each other and focus on restoring the Body of Christ as a whole, we can hit a rhythm. We can begin working together and begin the restorative process.

In this scene, I feel like the student observing and portraying that which I don't fully understand. I just stand on my desk at 15churches.blogspot.com, trying so hard to get the attention of those much smarter and wiser and older and more experienced than I am, in hopes of someday one of them going, "Like... how a cut heals."

This is the turning point.

If you're a pastor or church leader, I challenge you to wrestle with God at length about what your church can be doing in conjunction with other local churches, 'hit a groove' and impact your communities more effectively.

Conduit of Grace of Truth

The celebration continues at Faith Community Church, located a few blocks from Malone University on Cleveland Avenue. This hometown local church, at first glance, seems to be proactively pursuing it's namesake: Their local community. A quick web search will land you on their homepage, which is filled with information about Canton's history, demographics, and current events. FCC is clearly highly concerned with making an impact on the community of Canton, as they undoubtedly have been for nearly seventy years.

Cleveland Avenue is a prominent road in the area, and the church is literally thirty feet from roaring traffic. But crossing the threshold brought Hannah and I into a place of tranquility and worship. Gentle rays glimmer through blue stained-glass windows, softening the atmosphere and calming the heart in preparation for worship. And amid the storms and stresses that life brings, peace in the presence of God is precisely what we needed.

Personal greetings by the pastor and several members of the congregation were followed by a pleasant array of musical numbers—worship choruses, hymns out of hymnals, choral performances and a special music, all of which spoke strongly of God and his being more than we could ever need. Again, I find it necessary to mention how encouraging it is to see a church striving to balance that liminal space of upholding a timeless heritage yet becoming relevant to a rapidly changing society. Since this topic, however, has been touched on numerous times throughout this exploration, I'd like to hone in on a different aspect of Sunday morning's service.

As with many sermon series across the American church, two weeks ago was a message about the empty tomb. Pastor Elden continued this series,  as he has been preaching through the Bible since last fall sometime. This past week we ventured into Acts, and I must say I saw "Church" laid out in an entirely new fashion.

Acts 1:8 explains how "Church" is going to get started, which comes about in the next chapter, during the celebration of the Jewish festival called Pentecost (or, Shaubuot). In short, this is the plan. "Power of the Holy Spirit comes on you twelve guys sitting in the upper room, and then you go." That's it. The next verse, Jesus is gone from the face of the earth. He doesn't leave any directions for a contingency plan. We, the Church, are the conduit of the grace and truth of Christ to the world.

In the scope of this semester-long exploration, then, it seems fitting that this simple definition can succinctly sum up the purposefulness and effectiveness of the Church. In what practical ways is a local church channeling the grace and truth of Christ? How can local churches strive together to channel Christ's message of grace and truth to their neighborhoods, communities, and world?

Unprecedented Charm and Unchanging Heritage

This journey has led Hannah and I to a widely varying array of churches and services; contemporary juxtaposed with the most sacred tradition, and everything in between. Everything, that is, except for your everyday, stereotypical Bible-thumping, fundamental, King-James-Version-only hometown church. Until now.

Sandy Valley Baptist Temple is, in a word, bold. The charm of the building and the quaintness of the sanctuary is mirrored by that of it's surroundings: Magnolia, Ohio, the archetypal American small town. The sanctuary is small, between 10-15 rows of pews stretching from a center aisle out to windowed walls, which glowed with spring's sunlight on the houseplants in each window sill. A painting of a tree on a hill behind the baptistry was reminiscent of the growth and renewal coming from a changed and transformed heart. A cornflower blue spills over the entire room, from the pew-coverings, to the carpet and the small stage, where the standard of heritage stand unchanged for who-knows how long; piano on the left, organ on the rights, pastor in the middle leading hymns from the hymnal. Everyone knows everyone (not a difficult feat when the congregation topped-out at 40 in attendance), so there was no "sneaking in the back" as visitors. Pastor Matthew quickly asked us to introduce ourselves and expressed his gratitude for our joining them. "Visitors are God's way of showing us He loves us," he said, "so you're being with us this morning is His giving us a hug."

His sermon was fiery, boldly challenging his congregation to not let troubles and burdens wear us out, but to see them as "exercise equipment," meant to strengthen and stretch us. He preached powerfully, passionately. With an openness and honesty to be admired. So honest, in fact, that he wore his brokenness on his sleeve, so to speak. It breaks my heart to think about the wounds that must exist within a man who rails against larger churches with "rock bands" and "gimmicks." Are they not, also the body of Christ? And is Pastor Matthew not also an equally called leader of the body of Christ, alongside others who have chosen to do things another way? I left challenged by his words, his strong biblical preaching, but also hurting for his heart, and the hearts of his congregation, who seemingly refuse to reach out to their community, to the body of Christ around them, or those lost living withing their neighborhood, simply because they do things a different way.

To put in in a word, Sandy Valley Baptist Temple is bold. They refuse to give, even an inch, on any one issue. And as stated on their beliefs page, they "make no apology for their conservative beliefs in many areas."* They gather boldly, dressed like "citizens of heaven."* They sing from hymnals, read the KJV, and preach the Word of God boldly and unabashedly, and are not afraid to offend or upset those around them. Many contemporary Christians would find their service uncomfortable, especialy with vendetta preaching against outside "liberal" churches, but then again, Christ didn't call us to be comfortable, and perhaps a reminder of the way things used to be is exactly what the church in America needs.

As a member of the body of Christ, Sandy Valley Baptist Temple boldly gathers and worships, just like they have since 1961. They're venerable, like a grandparent. You can't tell them they're wrong and nothing is going to change their minds, and that's okay!

*Both are references to the "What we Believe" page on SVBT's website, here

Easter in Alliance

It's been difficult this week to determine how to delicately describe the service we attended and pull out areas to be celebrated alongside the other bodies of believers we've experienced over the past ten weeks. Easter Sunday has always been a time of celebration and joyous worship for Hannah and I, and albeit that we grew up in different churches, we had similar expectations of what a Resurrection Sunday looks like.

And we were painfully wrong.

She got a new dress. I got a new shirt. We wanted to look our best as we came together with believers to celebrate the rising of our Lord Jesus Christ. But a celebration is not what we attended. I've shared before about the awkwardness that often comes with liminal space, the transition between two phases of existence. As a church switches over from tradition to relevant, it loses some things and it gains some things.

First United Presbyterian Church of Alliance is Exhibit A.

Amid the snoring of more than a couple individuals, we were reminded by the robed pastor that it was only after Jesus whispered Mary's name in the garden that she realized it was her Lord, and that even Jesus' closest disciples didn't believe that he'd risen until they saw him face-to-face. Though I never quite determined the bottom-line to his message, I was gladdened by the opportunity to open a hymnal and sing multiple verses to several hymns throughout the 75-minute service.

Please don't hear me say "we didn't get anything out of it;" It's not about us, but about Jesus Christ and we were glad to being worshiping together on Sunday. Nor am I saying "They were too outdated;" I've written more than once about how wonderful are the sacred traditions within the Church. I suppose the bottom line of what I am trying to present is this: Hannah and I both agreed after Sunday morning's service that First United Presbyterian Church in Alliance is the kind of church that makes nonbelievers not want to try going to church again, and it truly saddens me to say that.

Nonetheless, the one thing I cannot get away from is this:

And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10:24-25
[emphasis mine]

Regardless of who was talking to themselves, how awkward the preaching was, or how many dozed off within the first two minutes, the body of Christ remains together. The body of Christ is not forsaking their meeting together. The family of believers out at First United Presbyterian remain an image of steadfastness and commitment, both to Christ and to one another, and that is something to be celebrated.