Friday, March 19, 2010

That Picture

So the last couple of weeks we had my family over and it was a blast. We loved having them. My wife blogged all about it. She also posted pictures and one of those pictures was my mom with Micah. It was a beautiful picture with one flaw. I was randomly in the background wearing my bright yellow sweat shirt and not paying any attention. So I have saved the day and removed my self from the picture so that it can once again look good. Ladies and Gentlemen I present the better version of that picture.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Stressed

I am not able to sleep right now. The main reasons for this are probably because it is Tuesday which happens to be a very busy day at the Rohde house, and because I'm up instead of in bed where I might be more inclined to fall asleep. There is a lot on my mind though.

If you were to ask the average person in my circle of influence who I am I wonder what they would say.

Lately I feel like God is desperately trying to get me and these people that I am supposed to be leading into worship each Sunday to see a bigger picture. We have a nice church, we have a nice building to worship in, we have nice worship services, we get a nice message about how God wants us to live nicely, and then we go home and comfortably take a nice nap, eat a nice meal, and start the week over with our nice job. Then we start doing our best to avoid brokenness and hurt by surrounding ourselves with nice things, that look nice, that impress other nice people doing the same nice things.

We tell ourselves that we'll be happy if we do things right. And "right" becomes whatever we want as long as it's nice. Instead of reading the Bible we start reading everything else that was written using the Bible as support for our nice ideas. We begin to utterly avoid truth because truth so often starts with not nice. The honest truth so often hurts and causes pain which we avoid at all costs. Ted Dekker wrote a series of books about people who have flaky, scabby, dry skin, and they smell terrible. They think this is normal. They didn't start out that way, but as they slowly stop doing the disciplined ritual that will keep them from becoming that way, they start to believe that they are the normal ones, they are the healthy ones. They begin to avoid all the things that would heal them. They become afraid of those things. They know that if they were to bathe in the water of life that could heal them that it would really hurt. Our skin, I'm afraid, may be drying up and scabbing.

One thing that really scares me is our culture's reluctance to do ANYTHING that seems traditional, boring, or work. Spiritual disciplines are quickly becoming a thing of the past. We cover this fact up by providing mediocre ways to get your spiritual disciplines in without having to sacrifice anything. We've begun to fear sacrifice.

We have done a horrible job looking at where we've come from and sorting out all the good that came from the generations before us. Yes, the church has caused hurt, the church has never been perfect. The problem is, we've convinced ourselves that we are the ones that are right and it would be impossible to believe that the church, dare I say even our church, is still causing hurt and pain.

When I think of where I came from I have been fortunate. I never once remember being bored at church. I can't tell you a time where I was looked down upon in the church I grew up in. I wasn't mistreated or hurt. I was lucky. The memories I have of church are memories I enjoy. I remember the smell of the sanctuary; the way it looked during the day with the lights off. I remember the best hiding spots. I remember imagining myself swinging from the lights that hung down with colored "jewels" in vertical rows decorating them. I remember the high ceiling, the giant beams holding the ceiling up, the ceiling fans that were so high I wondered if they really did any good. I remember baptisms when Pastor Dan would talk to each person and ask them if they knew where they would be if they were to get into an accident as they left the parking lot. I remember the sound of the water as they came up out of the baptismal. I remember the picture of Jesus and his sheep that hung over the baptismal and the plants that sat in a row in front of it. I remember the sound of the organ. I even remember the chimes that didn't get played all that often but sure made a glorious sound when they did. I remember the way the bushes smelled and felt outside the stained glass windows. I remember the sound basketballs made on the concrete in the gym. I remember being intimidated by the mountain of books in Pastor Dan's office, and reading The Far Side in Pastor Nate's office. I remember the color of the brick in the walls in the old Sunday School rooms and the way the bathrooms echoed when you'd shut a stall door. I remember the nursery and it's murals and the jail cell cribs that sat in a separate but connected room to the nursery. I remember desperately wanting to play floor hockey with the high school, but the lesson I learned about always needing something to look forward to. I remember the drive from home to church. I remember the light on the piano and Becky Bradfield's face when she played. I remember the small hallway's that led behind the stage. I remember praise notes and joy notes and the white robes we wore with red tie things around the neck. I remember AWANAS and desperately trying to quick memorize three verses in hopes that I would complete my book and get to go to Chicago. I remember where Frosty Edkin sat. I remember Blaine Carrol before he had hair. I remember the devotionals and informational pamphlets on the book case in the foyer. I remember the mailboxes and the pictures of all the missionaries we supported lining the world map that hung in the same foyer. I remember the envelopes that people could use for their offering. The red covered hymnals. The red covered attendance booklet at the end of each row. The green felt bottom of the offering plates. The red carpet and red backed pews. The holes for the communion cups. The tile floor underneath the pews. The sound the hymnals made as they were pulled from those pews. The potluck dinners. The smurf pop. The kitchen.

I remember the communion table that sat ever present in front that said "Do this in remembrance of me". I remember the way the elders served Pastor Dan and he in turn served them. I remember surrounding the sanctuary after communion and singing A'Capella "Blest Be the Tie That Binds".

And now I'm crying.

You see, I don't remember a whole lot of what Pastor Dan said while preaching. I do remember him using comics sometimes. I remember how he'd stand, and the water that always sat in a glass by the pulpit, but I don't remember what he said specifically. I remember Tom Norton preaching while wearing a Dennis Rodman jersey, but I don't remember what Jesus would say to Dennis Rodman. I remember more hymns by heart than I do the songs we sing every Sunday now. Those sermons Dan preached whether I remember them or not, and the music we sang, shaped me. I won't forget that. They are an intricate part of God's work within me as a child. I WILL NOT forget that.

That church, though, is now old, and out of new tricks and goodies. It wouldn't stand a chance now with our cool instruments, big screen videos, state of the art sound systems, and psychological set-up meant to welcome all new comers so that they don't see the truth about our broken, imperfect selves. Here is the thing though, as we held hands and sang that song, we didn't care if you were new or not, you were part of our family. We had community, we had fellowship, we had worship, we had mission, we had discipleship, we had ministry, but we didn't have cool and we didn't have entertainment. We didn't have elaborate systems in place to keep tabs on every person that visited our services. We just had the Holy Spirit. I guess that just wasn't enough.

Don't get me wrong, the church is doing a lot of things right today and they've corrected a lot of what was wrong with the church in the past. In a lot of cases there is life and excitement and energy in churches today that somehow fell to the wayside in many churches of the past. The church had a tendency to get hung up on stupid little things that in some cases caused major hurt and pain; church splits, and venomous words and feelings toward each other. The church today is tremedously focused on the disconnected, the lost, the seeking. This was, to varying degrees missing in a lot of old church. I do not question the heart of those who lead the new church. I believe that the people leading new church are in love with the same creator, savior, comfortor, and friend that the leaders of old church were. I believe that most would do absolutely anything to see God's Kingdom come and His will be done. They are amazing men and women leading the new church. We continue to search the mysteries of God and He continues to reveal truth, but what if He revealed truth to old church too and what if truth isn't relative but actually constant. New church remains imperfect.

I believe, however, that we can learn a lot from the church of old. They had a love and passion for God's Word that is difficult for church of new to compete with. They had a knowledge of God's Word that is hands down deeper than the church of new. You would have had a hard time finding people who couldn't name the books of the Bible or tell you who Sampson was. A third grader in old church could kick the butt of a new church high schooler in a good ol' game of Bible trivia.

I must add...I refuse to believe that the church was ever too boring. I have heard plenty of complaints about old church being boring. It is simply untrue and I believe a distraction to current ministry. It is possible that the person claiming boredom was not able to engage in some way, but there were plenty of people there at that time that were so far from bored that they were actually enjoying that which was seemingly excruciating to he who cries boredom.

I've also heard old church referred to as mere religion and not relationship. Again, this is a fallacy. The church has been God's body from it's installment. A church that clung to God's word was in no way mere religion but rather a living, breathing, body that was Christ and His bride. It is possible that he who cries religion had a heart that was practicing a religion, but you can't blame the church for that. It was he who cries religion's own sin that kept him/her from being able to participate in the church as a body rather than an instition. No offense, for all have sinned. It is nature. Just don't blame the church.

I love the church. I love God's people. I love God most of all. I don't want to lose focus on the message of Christ's love that old church AND the new church so closely cling to. We spend so much time avoiding the old that sometimes we may accidentally avoid that everlasting message too. And that is a dangerous place to be.