Messy Ecclesiology Revisited...

This morning Terry Esau returned to speak at UBC. For reasons that are obvious to many, I have kept his books at arms length, and probably will continue to, although I believe what he has to say to all of us is vital. But that is neither here nor there. After church I had the opportunity to speak with him briefly. He asked how I think things have been at the church since Kyle's death, and I was honest. He seems like someone who understands the multivalent nature of church, so I felt free to share with him that the past four and a half years at UBC have been at times a fountain of life, and at times a drain on life... sometimes simultaneously. The tragedy of Octbober 2005 didn't cause the messiness of humanity that flows through our corporate blood, but in many ways it ripped off the facade that may have been hiding it. We realized the truth in our words... We are full of earth and dirt...

In the middle of some of that earth and dirt I poured my frustration into things such as THIS.

But like any good and healthy teenager, UBC is growing. Both as a body, and as individuals. Earth and dirt and an inordinate amount of narcissism is still lingering, as it has lingered in churches and people for years. But occasionally you can wipe the mess aside and see something underneath the grime that may have the potential to be shiny again someday. Tonight we met for a town hall meeting, full of exciting conversations. And I am glad. I'm glad that people from a disparate range of backgrounds and passions spoke up. I'm glad for church leadership on the stage and in the crowd for being intentional. I'm glad to be in such a place.
-----------------

Elsewhere I have written about the little church building that I grew up in. Because of the hard work and dedication of many in that church, it has been preserved and now doubles as a fellowship hall (where the old sanctuary was) and bedrooms in the back for disaster situations (inspired by Katrina.) This weekend I came home for an anniversary party and stepped foot in that building for the first time in over fifteen years. Other than a few cosmetic changes and the removal of pews, the place still looks pretty much like it did.

I snuck away from the crowd and went roaming the building. It's a cliche, I know, but it seemed so much smaller than I had remembered. What seemed like a long cavernous back hallway when I was a child turned out to actually be a narrow walkway between rooms as an adult. I made my way back to the nursery. Although the rooms were converted into small living corners, they remained quite like I had remembered.

It was quiet. The murmur of the party in the distance made me know reality was still in full force. But in that hallway I heard myself growing up. I heard children playing and songs being sung. I heard teenagers being alternately rebellious and hopeful, glib and giddy.

I realized how small that hallway was and thought, all church hallways are small. Even the big ones. There's only so much space and you are going to have to bump into each other if you are going to navigate your way around. Sometimes the bumping can be uncomfortable, but you do it anyway. You do it because you have chosen this people called The Church. In this choosing you have been caught by them and will go forth with them.