Imitations

We are surrounded by varied models for institutions. We all know how to "do" a library, a gas station, a school, and so on. There are certain expected behaviors, certain patterns of interaction associated with each institution.

Church, on the other hand, is so fundamentally different from all other experiences. I wonder if it takes effort on our part to keep church different. I wonder if we sometimes slip into other more familiar earthly models -- accidentally, subliminally.

Church as a Bank -- the place where we keep our faith safe, stored away in a safety deposit box, where we can occasionally visit it, take it out, admire it, and then leave it inside the church walls where it will be uncorrupted by the world.

Church as a Convenience Store -- the place where we can zip in from time to time to replenish our supply of encouragement, fill up our tank of God's love so that we can function in the world for a few more days.

Church as a Theater -- a place to go for a good show, where we can see people who have their act together, who know God, leading a worship service, where spectators can draw near to a relationship that someone else has with God.

Church as a Country Club -- a place to meet good people, a safe place to enjoy social gatherings where they will accept and include anyone.

I'm not condemning anyone; I'm looking inward. I see these tendencies in myself, and I recognize that I need to discipline my thinking to keep my perspectives about church in line not with my daily earthly experiences and interactions, but in line with biblical descriptions.

Church is not just another institution vying for time on my calendar. I want to strip away my unconsciously formed definitions and thinking patterns to understand more clearly the wonder of the Body of Christ.

Do this

When I was a kid, my grandmother occasionally made taffy. When she did, she always made me help do the pulling. My grandmother was small, and I assumed that making taffy was just too hard for her to do alone.

When I was a little older, my mother agreed to make me a new dress. I was allowed to pick the fabric, and I got to search through the giant Simplicity book and choose a dress pattern. Back at the house, she made me cut out the many pieces of the tissue-paper pattern. I assumed that she didn't have time to do it.

At the time, I thought they were just making me help with their work. In hindsight, however, I now realize that they didn't really need my help at all. In fact, they could have finished much sooner without my "help."

Now I realize that there were two reasons for my assignments: (1) they were shaping my character, teaching me attitudes about work -- teaching me that any payoff usually requires a little elbow grease, that I was not entitled to something for nothing, and that participation in the work makes the finished product sweeter, and at the same time, (2) they were enjoying my company, enjoying the time spent together.

Recently the subject of prayer has bobbed up in classes, Bible studies, and newly published books. As I have reconsidered prayer, and particularly intercessory prayer, I've reflected that God really doesn't need me to tell him where the needs are. He certainly already knows the circumstances, and since He knows and loves the people I am praying for, He is not going to refuse to help them if I fail to word a prayer on their behalf. Why then am I called to intercessory prayer?

Consider a different matter: Jesus gave us what is sometimes called the "great commission," instructing us to go and make disciples. We know that God can reach people without our help. (See Romans) God can speak through a burning bush or a donkey. Conversion can happen on the Road to Damascus. Certainly, I am not an integral part of the operation.

Why am I called to these assignments? My God is capable of accomplishing his will without my help. (I wonder if, like my grandmother and mother, He could do it faster without me!) What is the purpose of instructing me to pray for others and go to others?

Perhaps God's purposes are also much like those of my grandmother and mother. Perhaps God plans good work in advance for me -- not because He can't do it without me -- but because he is teaching me, reshaping me, molding me to be different, to be more like his Son. In intercessory prayer, he is teaching me concern for those around me. He is taking my prayer spotlight off myself and putting on someone else. In taking my faith to others, I am taught selfless love for the souls of others. He is teaching me to imitate Jesus.

Yes, he can use my frail little efforts on behalf of others, but he can also use my frail little efforts to make me different. He gave me the task, and I assumed that the beneficiaries of my work were those others.

Lately, I've been more and more aware that changes are also happening in me. Flying back from Kazakhstan, I was struck by the fact that I was blessed by acting on the great commission. After praying intently for others, I was amazed to realize that my relationship with God had grown in the process. When I set out with the motive of blessing others and being obedient to God, I grew.
Oh, and then there is that second reason I mentioned when I spoke of my grandmother and mother. Can it be that God invites me to partner with Him because he enjoys relationship with me, enjoys time spent together, enjoys the shared task? If that is true, then carrying out the tasks he has given me changes radically -- from dutiful obedience -- to an act of joy and companionship.

I was slow catching onto what my grandmother and mother were doing. Looks like I am still slow catching on . . .

Hungry?

Because of the way our bodies are constructed, we need food every day. I've joked often that at our house, we are always planning the next meal, eating, or talking about what we just ate!

In scripture, however, food is a favorite metaphor for our relationship with God.

Moses explained to the Israelites, "He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your fathers had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord."

Isaiah heard God say, "Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare." Jeremiah said, "When your words came, I ate them; they were my joy and my heart's delight." (15:16)

Jesus taught, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled."

In the gospel of John, we learn that after Jesus miraculously fed the five thousand, the people intended to "come and make him king by force." They searched for him and eventually followed him to Capernaaum, where they quizzed him about what miracles he would do next and mentioning the manna that came from heaven.

Jesus was not impressed by their obvious interest in more free food. He told them, "It is not Moses who has given you bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world." (32-33)

And then even more clearly: "I am the bread of life. Your forefathers ate the manna in the desert, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which a man may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world." (48-51)

This conversation finally led many to turn back and no longer follow him. They weren't looking for God, they were seeking a free lunch. I'm afraid I am often like that: so focused on daily human things that I fail to see God's better offer.

Over and over, God tries to tell us that physical sustenance is far surpassed by the spiritual sustenance we have by being in relationship with Him. Our bodies crave food, but in an even more important way, our spirits crave God and his Word.

We have learned to listen to our physical bodies on matters of health; we need to learn to listen to our spirits on matters of the soul. Deep calls to deep, as the psalmist says.

God will sustain us, feed us, breathe life into us if we will receive it. I need to develop my taste for spiritual food. I need to never miss an opportunity for a meal. I need to fill my soul with what will make me grow strong.

Lord, make me hungry for you!