The Church, Like It Or Not

I have to admit–I still cringe a little bit when some Christian I meet asks me where I go to church. Not that I’m ashamed of my journey, or anything–it’s just that a decade-long journey can’t be justifiably shoved into an explanation of a couple of sentences, and I can be reasonably certain that any attempt to do so will result in the person judging me. (I know I shouldn’t care about that–don’t judge.) 🙂

So typically, I just answer with “Nowhere, right now,” or “I’m between things at the moment.” At which point I usually get an invitation to go to church.

I’ve been struggling in my own soul with this dynamic, mainly because the institutions I left behind are still so familiar to me, and as long as I’ve been walking this path of deconstruction and rediscovery, everything about it still seems so un-familiar. Like I said last week, when you’re in uncharted waters, it’s easy to feel like you’re drifting.  So when I feel the quasi-sympathetic, I-feel-sorry-for-you gaze of a Christian who doesn’t understand why I’m not “in church” on Sunday, as if to say, “Poor soul–he’s lost his way”…somewhere in my heart, I sort of buy that. I understand why someone would think I’m “unchurched”, because so many times I feel unchurched. I don’t even need to feel the judging eyes of institutional Christians to feel that way; I am my own worst judge and jury.

And yet…there’s this…thing happening around me right now, and when I look at it, it’s very exciting. But because I’m so busy feeling lost, I’m concerned I might miss it because I’m so preoccupied with how I might appear to mainstream institutional Christianity.

This Sunday morning music thing at the coffee shop is really starting to take an interesting form. It’s literally becoming a gathering place, a hangout for a small community of musicians who want to play together. Within the past few times, someone I didn’t even know picked up a guitar during a break and started to play. Even the “other band”, the musicians who play on the other two Sundays where I’m not heading up the event, are taking interest in this, to the point that now there is a bleedover of musicians from one Sunday to the next. There is a joy in the music that seems to be tangible, both among the musicians and among the listeners and passers-through.

My musical partner, the guitarist that joins me on Sundays, is so stoked about this that he told me this weekend, “I’ll be there. I’m addicted.” He has also revisited the idea of doing a Bible study beforehand–without my prompting.

What do I do with this? This is exactly what I had been hoping would happen when I started playing here on Sundays. It’s a community of musicians, a mixture of believers and non-believers, that presents an opportunity to encourage one another on a deeper level.

But I’m realizing that I’m running the risk of downplaying the significance of this, or worse, blowing the opportunity, because I have recently been succumbing to the inner accusations that I’m “out of church,” and allowing myself to agree with those accusations and become despondent about it.

And you know what? That’s wrong.

Not only is there this…awesome thing going on, but I was reminded this week that as alone as I feel “out here,” there are millions of professing Christ-followers like me who are not attending institutional congregations on a regular basis. I’m not the only one who feels this way, who feels that the man-made structures we’ve built are no longer serving their purpose, who feels that there must be more.

And so, for my own sake, as well as for anyone else who might feel the way I do, I think I need to make a few statements. And while I’m not singling out anyone in particular I just want to sort of speak this out to anyone within the institutional church (leader or follower) who might come across this and be inclined to judge:

We are the church, like it or not.

The buildings, the structures, the Sunday morning meetings, the organizations–none of these things is the true church. These structures were made by man; the church was created by God. And we are part of that organic creature, the Body of Christ.

We are not “lost” or “prodigals” simply because we avoid Sunday morning gatherings in church buildings with steeples. We didn’t leave the church; we just left your structures because they were getting in the way.

We are not opposed to assembling together; we are opposed to forced relationships, church politics and negative peer pressure. We still believe in gathering together, if not in the way most people think.

We are not “unchurched,” nor are we “out of church.” We are the church, even if it is not in a form you currently recognize.

The Bible refers to believers as brothers and sisters in Christ. I am a believer; if you are a believer, I am your brother. You can pick your friends, but you are stuck with your relatives.

Not only are we of the same blood (the blood of Christ), but we are also of the same Body. The hand cannot say to the foot, “I have no need of you.” Those of us who are outside the structures have just as much a role to play in the kingdom of God as anyone else in this Body. The reason you might not think so is that your eyes are not on God’s kingdom, but on man-made kingdoms that do not represent the true church.

We are the church, like it or not. And as part of that organism, we are reclaiming the name. Your buildings, ministries and man-made kingdoms are not the church. We are the church, the Body of Christ. And God will use us to touch others for His glory, whether inside the walls or outside of them.

There. I’ve said my piece.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s Sunday morning at the coffee shop. I need to get ready for church.