It's not them, it's me

I think of the many, many Sunday services I’ve sat through in my life and I think of all that I was taught in the buildings where those services were held…or at least I think of all the things I can remember learning in those buildings. I have very fond memories of time spent in both the ‘church’ buildings and in the services but as I sit here now, thinking back, I must admit what I didn’t know then.

 

Sitting through a Sunday service is much like sitting in the midst of a movie theater on opening day. You’re surrounded by people that all have different reasons for being there and different beliefs. Most of those around you would all claim to have the same beliefs and yet so many of them live for gods that aren’t the God they’re supposedly worshipping. Even the very god of the service in most of those ‘church’ buildings isn’t the God of the Bible.

 

I know I’ve covered this topic before but it’s a topic that worth repeating. Over and over again if that’s what it takes. I don’t write these posts for any reason but for myself to have a place to gather my thoughts and for my husband to be able to read those thoughts. And a hope that someday one of my children might share my faith and wish to read those same thoughts and ideas. If anyone else gains anything from what I am writing then I’m grateful to be able to touch their life.

 

And so…here I am revisiting a topic that I’ve written on before and will most likely write on again. And again.

 

I think of the ‘church’ I sometimes go to and of all the people that fill it every Sunday. I think of the outward showing of their belief. Of the people that sit or stand at the back of the building with crossed arms, obviously uncomfortable with their location. I think of the woman that kneels in the middle of the aisle during the music, both hands raised above her head. I think of those that show up with sayings about Jesus on their shirts and those that dress like they’re ready for a night on the town.

 

And I think of the Jesus they serve that isn’t the Jesus of the Bible. And I wonder…how many of them know they’re serving an idol? How many of them, like myself, may be sitting in the crowd cringing and silently correcting the teachings of the preacher on the stage? How many of them know the real Christ, the real God, the real Scripture…and are there for reasons that have little to do with the service being presented?

 

The god being taught from the stage before me as I sit in that crowd isn’t the God I serve. I go for other reasons than to serve my God. Where I once found it easy to sit in the crowd and listen to the preacher, I now find it difficult. Because it is much like sitting in the midst of a group of people worshipping a god made of stone. The words are there, the feelings are there, the lesson is there, but my Lord is being pushed aside in favor of the Jesus that isn’t the Christ of the Bible.

 

I read a book many years ago in which the believers…or Christians…had a seal upon them that could be seen only by other Christians. There were many, many times after reading that book that I wished it was that way in real life. How great would it be if we could look at someone and know if they are regenerate? How great would it be to be able to pick the true children of Christ out of a crowd no matter where we were?

 

But then I think of what my husband and daughter said a few months back about what it would be like if we could know the date of death for everyone but ourselves…and I think maybe to be able to know whether or not a person was regenerate simply by looking at them would somehow be much that way. We could rejoice in knowing we’ve met another child of Christ but what of all those that might not hold that distinction? How much would our hearts hurt for them?

 

How saddened would we be if we walked into a Sunday service and could find no one there that was regenerate? How elated would we be if we walked in and everyone was?

 

As I write this I know I will be visiting that ‘church’ building where I sometimes go in the next few weeks. I also know that I will have a hard time sitting through the service. And I know…that it isn’t them…it’s me. I see things so differently than they do that what they value, what I once valued, no longer has the same appeal to me.

 

And I wonder…if I had the opportunity to go to that ‘church’ building every Sunday the way I once did…would I make it through very many services? Could I continue to sit through services that teach something I can’t believe in? Could I continue to go, continue to expose my children, to something I believe teaches false doctrine?

 

As I ponder those questions I suspect the answer to all of them would be no. No…I couldn’t go week after week. No…I couldn’t expose my children to false teachings continuously.

 

Still I know…it’s not them…it’s me.