As I got older, Sunday School lessons revolved around "being like Jesus"; we were to treat people with kindness, feed the poor, take care of the needy, visit the shut-ins. But I was also taught to "be of the world, but not like it". People who weren't Christians were supposed to look at me and know that I was different, that I had something they didn't have. It was supposed to make them want what I had.
But where was the ministry? Who were we reaching out to? It was the same group of people attending each week. The same group of people attending weekly Bible studies and home groups. Occasionally new people came. For the most part, they appeared to already be Christians. It was a homogenous group.
I was a wounded child. I had deep injuries from physical, sexual and emotional abuse. I didn't feel like my church was a safe place to share that information, so I kept quiet. But I loved going to church! Jesus met me there. He held me there. He kept me close. When I left church, I felt good. As a child, I didn't know how to explain what I experienced. Sometimes, I still struggle to explain my relationship with Jesus. To me it sounds like the simplest thing, yet it sounds so trite (or so I think) when I hear the words come out of my mouth.
When I was in Youth With a Mission, that was the first time that I felt like I was actually ministering to the world. I felt like I was fulfilling my Sunday School command to be like Jesus. Travelling to third world countries and inner-city areas in America exposed me to people, to opportunities very new to me. My heart began to understand what it meant to serve the weak, bind up the brokenhearted and give what I had to the poor.
It's interesting how all along the way I attracted women and children with experiences similar to mine. There seemed to be a radar on me. I admit, I was not far enough along in my own healing to really help. But I was an ear, a shoulder, a beating heart who understood what they experienced.
After my husband and I got married, we moved several times and attended a variety of churches. Each of the pastors preached the same sermons of my childhood, but it seemed like the caring aspect of the church, the part that allows for healing, had not progressed. It was still "churched" and "unchurched". Often, old-school church vs. new Christians and wounded people. There was no allowance for the messiness that comes along with people being real, the people who are struggling to heal from things no one wants to talk about. I've heard so many stories along the way of injured people being further injured by the Church.
It hurts my heart.
This past week has been a hard one for me as I've listened to people's stories. I am glad to do it. I understand what it feels like to have no one understand what you've been through. But this week I heard things that both broke my heart and stirred an anger in my soul. I listened to the story of woman who endured gut-wrenching abuse throughout her childhood and teen years. She felt like it made her dirty, that her secret diminished her worth. When she told me how the behavior, the judgments, of prominent leaders in the church reinforced her feelings of not being worthy of God's love, I broke into tears. She told me she felt like if they couldn't accept her, let alone help her, then how could God?
I hear stories like this over and over again. The broken, abandoned and marginalized seek solace, some semblance of comfort from we the church, and we turn them away. Yes, we. I am including myself. I don't always respond the right way, and I've been through crap. You'd think I, of all people, would understand. But I struggle with messiness. I like things tied up in neat little boxes. Emotion is hard for me. I don't like to show it. It's equally hard for me to see it. Yet that is what we are called to, those are the very people who need us, who need the touch of Jesus.
So that brings me to this: when do we actually start being like Jesus instead of just talking about it? When will we see our pews, chairs, auditoriums filled with people who aren't "members", but rather people who heard Jesus would be there so they showed up seeking an encounter with him? When will women enduring domestic violence, or women whose husbands are molesting their children, feel safe enough to share that with their pastor and not feel shamed for needing out? When will pastors stop demanding proof of the abuse before they show compassion? When will those of us who suffered sexual abuse as children feel like it's a safe place to start unpacking all those boxes we have created deep inside in order to help us cope?
How would Jesus actually respond?
The Jesus that I know, would weep at what He saw. He never intended the church to be for the whole or those who have it all together. Those He chose to follow him certainly weren't. They were messy, unruly and decidedly un-Churchlike. He would cradle those abused children, holding them to his heart. I see him embracing those who fear that what's happened to them also defines them. I think he'd be marching in the streets, fighting for those who just can't do it anymore.
I see Him smiling, eyes warm, his arms open and welcoming. Can you see him?
I've been convicted these past few days to love more. If you know me, you've probably heard me say "I hate people". It's a coping mechanism. I actually love people, I just don't know how to deal with them. But I'm convicted. Jesus never would have said that he hated people. If I'm to be like Jesus, I need to make some changes in my own thinking and behavior.
How about you?
** I encourage you to check out these songs on Youtube or Spotify. They stir my soul every time I hear them.
"My Jesus", Todd Agnew
"Truth be told", Mathew West
"Preach", John
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