Growing up, I knew, as surely as the sun rises, that my church was the best church in town. Just like my high school football team was the only team worth rooting for, my church was the only one with good doctrine and sound teaching. We believed the right things. We taught the right things. We were right. Even today if I went home to visit, I'd have a hard time overcoming my prejudices and stepping foot in another church in town. After all, they're all dead churches in my mind. Or at least inferior.
And now, from the sound of it, my church is dying.
I'm not there, so I watch helplessly from the sidelines as it all crumbles around them. I watch as person after person makes the tough decision to leave, to maybe never return. My heart is broken. If I ever go home to visit, I might not be going back to the same church. Those people who were my world growing up have disintegrated. It seems that they're fractured from within, even if they still are cordial on the surface.
I'm not sure what to make of it all. I am not there, and I don't know who's right and who's wrong. And it really doesn't matter to me. None of it matters.
I want them to love each other. I want them to not forget the years, the decades, the lifetimes of investment in each other's lives. I want them to stick together, even if it's messy, even if it breaks hearts. I want them to look to Jesus.
But mostly, I want them to remember that when the dust settles, when the flames burn down, when everything is lost or everything is found, that then, God will still be found. God is above and beyond institutions. God doesn't need Brooklyn to reach that community. God doesn't need that building or its rich heritage of faith. God doesn't need its carefully written by-laws or its place within the denomination as a whole. God doesn't need its tradition of weekly Sunday School, even in an age where most churches have abandoned such an antiquated practice. God doesn't need a Bible-believing-and-preaching pastor, he doesn't need a faithful elder and deacon board. He doesn't need the children's ministry or the missions fund. And he certainly doesn't need vacation bible school.
God will be faithful regardless of the outcome for this particular institution.
I am praying, though, for reconciliation, for unity of the true body of Christ. The body of Christ goes so far beyond the church walls, and so I pray for my church family to pray together, to eat together, to do life together. I pray for an awakening of community, of love. I pray for hearts that draw near to the Father for every breath. I pray for hearts that stop striving after earthly justice and that strive after Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ will judge; His purposes will prevail. I pray that leaders will step out and up. I pray for women and for men to prophetically speak into this situation, not about institutions or policies, but about Jesus and His mission. I pray for a re-awakening, for a transformation. I pray for a sifting, for a harvest. I pray for revival in the hearts of the people I love. I pray for peace for them, for hope. I pray for soft hearts and quick feet. I pray for hands that reach out to unite.
I am thankful for the way that God used that church, in all of its imperfection, to mold me into the person I am today. I am thankful for its time-honored traditions, for its faithfulness to teach from the Word. I am thankful for the people whose parents, grandparents, even great-grandparents were all raised in that church. I am thankful for the faithfulness and consistency of the people I grew up with. I am so thankful for it all. My church wasn't perfect, that is becoming more clear to me with every year I spend separated from it all. No church is.
I pray that this trial will refine the people I love most. I pray that God's purposes will prevail. I pray for the Gospel to extend far beyond that church building's four walls.
Look to Him, my brothers and sisters. He is near.
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