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There is a severe malady that has affected much of the church today. The funny thing is that the church is almost proud of its error, glorying in its shame. This is very sad. The spiritual illness I am speaking of affects both those inside of the church and those outside. What is missing is authenticity, being real, and being discerningly transparent and vulnerable. Because the church has degraded into a place where we must look like we have it all together, like we have no doubts, like we have no struggles, and where we must perform rather than be, we have lost much. Churches go on to lament a lack of community and true fellowship and hope that merely instituting another program will fix the situation and make love happen. It doesn’t work that way. The church needs to recover an aspect of love and compassion that it once knew and which compelled those outside of the church to watch and wonder and even long for being part of such loving community and fellowship (Acts 2:42-47). The church needs to be real.

We have gotten so good at role-playing, acting, and mask-wearing when we are "at church" that it makes it very hard to know someone for whom they really are. How can a friendship or any kind of relationship even in Christ’s church happen or develop when one person is being dishonest about who they are, where they are at, and what they need? Sadly, this dishonesty about a person’s true state of being is encouraged when the church lacks compassion, sympathy, empathy, and desire to meet needs (c.f. Hebrews 4:15). For some reason, too many churches fail to actively seek out needs in their own body of believers, let alone in the community. Needs aren’t bad; they are normal (Philippians 4:19). Part of the church’s life and ministry is to meet needs, physical, financial, emotional, and most importantly spiritual. But how can that happen unless it actively seeks needs out and unless it cultivates an environment of acceptance and compassion which invites needs to be expressed and shared?

I have had the opportunity to attend a variety of churches in my lifetime. Many are very proficient at the 20 seconds or less "shake the hand of the person next to you" attempt at fellowship which amounts to nothing more than a mere "good morning" or "how are you?" Those rituals of pseudo-relationship have come to increasingly irritate me because they make us as churches feel like we have achieved love and care when really we have achieved nothing more than a handshake and smile. There is nothing wrong with a welcoming handshake, a "how are you this morning," or a smile, but we can’t suppose that this defines having arrived at community akin to that which the early church possessed and experienced.

I will never forget one church that I had the joy of attending for a time in my life. I came there having been to many other churches in the area, some with prominent evangelical pastors and nationwide ministries. But this particular church was different. It had something the others lacked and something that I needed. The others had excellent Bible teaching and the full gamut of programs. People smiled at me and were nice. But, I say again, this one was different, and it was because of one factor predominantly that I chose to attend there. This church, unlike some others and better than the rest, was made up of people who took the time to care. Surely, I have to believe that the people at many of the other churches cared also. I just suspect that they didn’t know how to show it, for perhaps they hadn’t been trained in it. I felt loved at this church, not because everyone knew me, for they didn’t. It was because the few that had a chance to interact with me as I showed up on a Sunday morning made it meaningful. They weren’t looking at me like a customer to whom they wanted to make a sale. They didn’t pound me with the gospel. They didn’t question my wardrobe. They didn’t have an agenda, per se, except to be a friend to a person in need, me. They weren’t satisfied with merely asking me how I was doing and being given the rote response of "fine, thanks." That is not to say that they pressed me into sharing things that I didn’t volunteer. After all, friendship and community is a two way street. Yet, their conversation was one of interest in my life and one of seeking how God might be able to encourage me through them directly or through the ministries of the church. There was no pressure in their invitations to come to an event to meet other believers. And the only reason I eventually did go was because I felt that people really cared. This place was known by its love (John 13:34-35), I thought. Its preaching was sound, its values right, and its methods straightforward and Biblically reasoned. Was it perfect? Of course not. But when people who recognize their own imperfection are willing to let Christ shine through them such that they love another person in his or her imperfection, something powerful and wonderful takes place. It is called Christian fellowship in its truest, purest, and warmest sense. It is not contrived, forced, or fake. It is genuine, authentic, and real. Needs can be shared without being judged, doubts can be voiced and be gently answered, and something that cries "you are safe" is present in such a community.

I only long for churches to have leaders who aren’t too busy building ministries to minister to people. I long for church people to care and not perform. I long for the community that Acts 2 expresses, a community even the world marveled at. Such is possible for us today, but it starts with being willing to be real. Lord, help us to drop the rituals, routines, and charades which block Your presence, Your compassion, and Your love from being known, felt, and expressed, and let Your church become a place of comfort, compassion, care, and concern. May Your church be willing to be real.

"Today's Little Lift" from Jim Bullington

Mercy and not Sacrifice (Sept. 29, 2010)