"The Living Church"

It's a phrase thrown around quite a bit. "The church is not the place, but the people," say many, and they are right.

But in my heart, such a catchy phrase is evidence of just a quick glance at the surface of waters that really ought to be carefully trolled. These words should convey a responsibility that is, in fact, rarely attached to them. If contemplated with the mental energy due it, this idea of purpose behind divinely-appointed community should strain the heart and prompt compassionate action; certainly it should sober the imagination and afflict the conscience.

But I find that things relating to the heart of God often fall into this category. When I was young, I wondered how someone could be "burdened" in prayer such that they could disappear for hours into prayer on behalf of various causes dear to the heart of God. I would desire that same fervor, that same committment. But a few minutes into my prayer time, and I would have exhausted both my tidy lists: that of familiar needs and that of foreign topics and cultures, religions and countries...and I would sit there, reverently wondering what to do next.

As I've grown, I've learned to ask God for specific things to awaken my heart to the things that are dear to Him. For example, just today, I came across both the following verse and the following news report. Over these and their juxtaposition in my spirit life--over this I could sit for some time in communion with God, but it would strain my heart, a thing that never really happened in former prayer postures.

First, here is a picture of what I'd say was a previously common exposure to one of these "truths" dear to God:

I stand in a sunlit room, dressed in finery, looking down at a gold-leaf book--the Word of God--in my hands as someone in gracious robes at the front of the room elegantly recites the words while I either read along silently or else join the speaker in quietly murmured, carefully paced choral reading. I am not hungry, as I had ample breakfast before I came here. I am not hot or cold, as the central air regulates the temperature well in this sanctuary. I am not despised by any of those around me (see again reference to none of us being hot or cold.) And I faintly consider the words inspired by God, words that really only register with me intellectually and historically,but not vitally and personally.

I Peter 2:18-23
Submission to Masters
see also (Is. 53:7-9)
18 Servants, be submissive to your masters with all fear, not only to the good and gentle, but also to the harsh. 19 For this is commendable, if because of conscience toward God one endures grief, suffering wrongfully. 20 For what credit is it if, when you are beaten for your faults, you take it patiently? But when you do good and suffer, if you take it patiently, this is commendable before God. 21 For to this you were called, because Christ also suffered for [fn6] us, leaving [fn7] us an example, that you should follow His steps:
22 "Who committed no sin,
Nor was deceit found in His mouth"; [fn8]
23 who, when He was reviled, did not revile in return; when He suffered, He did not threaten, but committed Himself to Him who judges righteously; 24 who Himself bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, having died to sins, might live for righteousness--by whose stripes you were healed.

But here is the question: what do I feel about these verses? Not just what do I understand, but what prompt to action is locked in them, and what discourse with God is begged by them? Sadly, very little. At best, according to the carefully crafted and gently presented supplications of the pastor who "comments" on this text just presented, I might bend myself to feel a flicker of gratitude that such a state of affairs is not common in my life. I might also hear a brief aside to the fact that "such is not the case for all peoples--this freedom we take so much for granted." So I might also feel just the right amount of stab to my conscience to make me repent my false sense of deserving the good life I live. Also, I might feel a little shame over some of the complaining I've done recently. Then, as long as the service does not overstep its timely boundaries, I'll refrain from complaining about anything that transpired that morning while I eat a hot and diverse and well-seasoned--not to mention healthy--lunch at a restaurant where I will neither prepare nor clean up after my meal. I will go home, take a refreshing nap, and then allow my spirits to fall slightly as I anticipate the demands a new week will soon put upon me and as I consider the horrific stresses I feel are part of the fabric of my life. So viewed, it is easy to see why this is a life that breeds absolutely no context from which to lift others in marathon intercessory prayer.

But then, even in this life of mine, I might consider these verses another way. I might read these verses as part of my pre-dawn daily Bible reading. I might put it to God to bring them alive for me. He might give me a single story or two in the morning news: a woman who is "a rape victim who was sentenced to lashes and jail time for being in a car with a man who was not her relative." Did the media put a spin on that story to draw up my horror like threads of taffy? Or, was this woman actually sentenced to painful punishment for being too weak to fight off her assailant and thereby keep herself out of the car wherein he raped her? The King intervened on her behalf, says the story; but my heart cries out about her status as a criminal in this case, was this not a deep injustice? Then the thought comes to me: "Use this as the framework on which you re-read those verses." Suddenly, I realize afresh and with a sober mind just how fragile could be my blessings with regards to justice. Much broader is my sense of potential suffering for one who had "done good" yet could by a literal interpretation of law, be nonetheless condemned. Afresh, I believe in the benefits of my own country's justice system, that it is graced even yet with Solomon's wisdom. Though this justice system is certainly not perfect, it nevertheless takes great pains to insure that the weakest members of society are not trampled under the penalties of a law that they literally are incapable of upholding. Never mind the farce of judge shows on television. The true halls of justice still carry the hope of goodness revealed and protected even as harm and prideful aggression are recognized and punished.

Then I read of another woman whose marriage was annulled by the petition of her tribal cousins after her father died, the same father who originally gave the marriage his blessing. He blessed the marriage for (in my mind) the right reasons: the man was a fine upstanding man, he and this father's daughter were in love. Over time, their marrige bore two children. But then when that father died, these cousins presented to the courts that the marriage should be invalid for (in my mind) the wrong reasons: their own tribal reputation was diminished by this marital association with the husband's tribe, a tribe of lesser influence and respect. The father's sanction of the marriage died with him. Granted I see it with a Western eye, I do not deny it, but it appears to me that the marriage was born by the ascendance of love and dignity bestowed as a blessing by the nearest authority figure. It now suffers death by the ascendance of pride and arrogance in family members too distant to have any but selfish motives. "Look again at what you consider bottom line principles, and realize they can sink much lower than your imagination ever entertained as possibilities," says the God who prompts my prayer life. The woman lives now separate from her husband and one of her children (who lives with the father) while they all await the ruling of the court of appeals. It is for the court to pronounce the legitimacy of their children, children born in good faith by their parents that they were not of bastard stock. Now with these thoughts plaguing her mind, this woman would prefer to die if her marriage is termed invalid. So I ponder, what makes a marriage valid? How does this contrast with the flippant disrespect we have (in our own culture) for having been given the privilege of self-determined marriage? Are any of us coming to You, mighty Alpha and Omega, with thanks and respect, with supplication for wisdom before entering into this mysterious oneness that first gave hope to the death-condemned Adam and Eve when once they birthed a child, the hope of life even out of death when once man and wife become one?

Now I have the context by which I can beseech Thee with groanings that are beyond words for me. I can go into my prayer closet, fall on my knees and spend the better part of a day just on these verses. I could leave that closet at dusk and still feel like I'd barely dipped a cupful from the oceans of prayer potential, a cup to lift to You in my efforts to pray Your will into existence on this dry planet.