Church

The servant came back and reported this to his master. Then the owner of the house became angry and ordered his servant, ‘Go out quickly into the streets and alleys of the town and bring in the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame.’ “‘Sir,’ the servant said, ‘what you ordered has been done, but there is still room.’“Then the master told his servant, ‘Go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come in, so that my house will be full.  – Luke 14:21-23

I found myself standing at Bierstadt Lake, at an elevation of 9466 feet above sea level, in Rocky Mountain National Forest. Looking over the exceptionally clear water, dotted with reeds, lily pads, and hungry ducks, the Continental Divide opened up in front of me. In the cool mountain air, the wind whistled through the pines. I felt a closeness to God, looking at this expansive view of creation. But it wasn’t quite church.

Sitting around a table with old and new friends, we laughed at the holiday costumes people were wearing and told stories about our lives and swapped silly anecdotes. Over beverages and copious amounts of food, we simply enjoyed each other’s company and lived in the moment. But that too wasn’t quite church.

Belting out familiar songs and inviting us to enjoy new melodies, the exquisitely talented pianist (and guitarist and percussionist) weaved his words and music into a tapestry of audio art that left all of us breathless. Immersed in his artistic world, we left that night experiencing something transcendent. But that also wasn’t quite church.

In her book Searching for Sunday, Rachel Held Evans wrote this about a faith community:  The church is God saying: ‘I’m throwing a banquet, and all these mismatched, messed-up people are invited. Here, have some wine.’

At times in my life, I've tried to distance myself from church due to personal hurt, rigid doctrine, and an inward focus. Whenever possible, I avoided church and sought fulfillment elsewhere. And even while beautiful vistas, transcendent art, and loving friends and family bring beauty, inspiration, and camaraderie into my life, there always seemed to be something missing.

What I failed to see about church was that God is hosting a banquet. She lays out a table with bread and wine, inviting me to take and eat, to drink and remember. She consistently invites me to join both those I love and those I struggle with. She reminds me that I'm meant to come to the table alongside messy people, those with agendas, and those who make mistakes, as I am among the most flawed. She assures me that her love extends to everyone—no exceptions, no preferences—and that includes me too.

Let us pray,

We give thanks for the church. The community where a feast is set for messy, messed-up people. Thank you for bread and wine, given even to the likes of me. Amen.