echoes of redemption

I read a stat yesterday that I honestly don’t know what to do with.

“While 40 million people died of starvation in the last decade, chuches spent $10 billion on campuses.”

Anger was the first emotion.

Then disappointment.

Followed quickly by frustration.

And then I remembered the line that the article started with: “Thirty-four million Americans have given up on organized religion…”

And I thought: if that’s how organized religion is caring for the oppressed, maybe that’s not so bad.

After all, this was personal to the author:

“I went to seminary, and after several years of study, I began my career as a professional minister. It wasn’t long, however, before I discovered that the church was more lost than the world it was trying to save.

“Go into many churches today, and instead of finding an institution interested in saving the world, what you may find is an institution vastly more interested in saving itself.”

I’m pretty heartbroken – only because his words ring so true. (You can read the rest here.)

We have to change things. We have to abandon the old way of doing things. We have to bring the freedom found in Jesus to the world. We have to raise up communities of people – churches – that are connected to one another, to their cities and to the world.

We have to dis-organize, de-centralize and de-construct what we have come to know as church.

We need to rediscover the path of Jesus.

It’s easy to get wrapped up in the institution of church. There are programs, teams and systems to run.

For me, when I heard of hungry people, I thought: we have a team that handles them.

I wasn’t engaged (or even aware) of the global water crises.

I really wasn’t welcoming strangers (outside of them coming to a weekend service).

Providing for those who need clothing wasn’t high on my list… or on it at all.

Caring for the sick was something someone else handled (because I told myself I wasn’t “gifted” to do it).

Connecting to those in prison was for the fringe ministry people, not me.

And based off Jesus words in Matthew 25:41, my actions were those of a pastor who is going to hell.

Jesus also said, Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.

For, I was hungry and you gave me food.

I was thirsty and you gave me drink,

I was a stranger and you welcomed me.

I was naked and you clothed me,

I was sick and you visited me.

I was in prison and you came to me.

So maybe I need the oppressed more than they need me. Maybe in serving I find redemption for my own soul. Restoration for my own heart.

Maybe in serving them I meet the God of the oppressed in real, tangible ways.

And maybe, when it comes to the church, all the systems, the programs, the teams, the services – all of it is peripheral. Maybe instead of giving our lives to the church, we should give them to Jesus – feeding the hungry, providing water for the thirsty, welcoming the rejected, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and filling prisons with the hope of Christ.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said it best: If you want to build a ship, don’t summon people to buy wood, prepare tools, distribute jobs and organize the work, rather teach people the yearning for the wide, boundless ocean.

For years I prayed a prayer… and God never answered it.

What I was praying for was clearly in my best interest. I could even see how I could have a greater impact if God would just answer it. I even thought I saw him start to answer my prayer two distinct times.

But, nothing.

It wasn’t as simple as sitting at a stoplight. I wasn’t getting a green light, red light, or even a courtesy yellow telling me to slow down. I was just getting nothing.

And getting nothing from the God who has all things is hard.

Recently I found out some details I did not know back then about what I was praying for. Circumstances I would have been in had God answered the prayer. And it would have been bad.

I would have been hurt. I wasn’t ready to be around the things I would have ended up around. It wouldn’t have been the kind of situation I was praying for.

So maybe it was more than nothing after all.

Maybe I was getting protection. And grace. And love.

And maybe God was really more concerned with doing something in my heart while he showered me with protection, granted me grace and showed me love.

And maybe while I was praying for circumstances, and seeing nothing, God was answering a bigger pray I didn’t even know to pray. A prayer for God to shape my heart and save my soul.

Because in his love and wisdom he granted me everything I needed – before I even knew to ask for it.