Me.
The Church in the United States has a problem. In fact, it has a lot of problems: it is splintered into dozens of bickering denominations, content with a shallow spirituality, and torn apart by sin. The American Church has become the salt that has lost its saltiness. Of course, I’m hardly the first person to recognize this. Every few weeks, I’ll read a blog post or an article or essay or Facebook update unloading frustration, disappointment, and even anger toward the church. When I was younger, I had my share of these, though I mostly kept them to myself. I was tired of the rigid ritual we called “worship” and frustrated with “numb Christians” who no longer felt the joy and passion of their faith. Gradually, though, I found that there were a lot of very good things about the church, and my dissatisfaction subsided.
But today, the feeling that something is wrong is back. The longer I look at scripture, the wider the gulf appears between what is written and what I observe. But I feel a lot worse this time around, because I’ve realized that the Church isn’t a group of people I can point my righteous finger at. I am part of the church. The problem is me.
We’ve stopped taking the Bible literally. Straightforward passages become “difficult to understand”, and direct commands are carefully contextualized to keep us comfortable. While I could point to plenty of people who are guilty, I have to take the log out of my own eye first: I have stopped taking the Bible literally. I have worked to find explanations for passages in order to minimize the change required in my life. The problem is me.
For a long time now - probably a year or more - I’ve prayed that God would make me his and show me his way. But looking at my life, nothing much happened, because, in truth, I didn’t really mean it. I’m afraid to ask God to make me fully his. Honestly, I’m pretty happy where I am: I have great relationships with family and friends, and I’m doing well at an excellent school. People around me praise my intelligence or culinary skills or physical fitness or “spiritual depth”. Life is good.
To fully belong to God, I’ve got to give all of that up. All of it. Not just the pride and envy and bitterness and rage and malice. I have to hand over all the good stuff, too. And this is where I balk. I balk because I’m afraid he’ll take away my family, or my health, or my career. I’m afraid I’ll lose my free time. I’m afraid I’ll lose control of my life. I’m terrified to lose the things that are so valuable to me, all of which says that I don’t love and trust God enough to believe that his plans are better than mine.
The problem with the American church today isn’t rigid structures or hollow worship, poor leadership or shallow spirituality. The problem is my rebellious and stubborn refusal to take words of God seriously. The problem is me. And I have got to change.
I’ll close with the words of Casting Crowns from “Somewhere in the Middle”:
“Just how close can I get Lord, to my surrender, without losing all control? Fearless warriors on the picket fence, reckless abandon wrapped in common sense, deep-water faith in the shallow end; and we are caught in the middle, with eyes wide open to the differences between the god we want and the God who is. But would we trade our dreams for his, or are we caught in the middle?”
