To my mourners:
Sometimes the dying are the first to know. While others believe you are invincible, you quietly go around collecting pamphlets from hospice and making final arrangements. But sometimes, more rarely, the dying are the last to know. While they feel alive and vital, others are picking out their headstone. Lately I'm feeling like I'm in the latter camp.
I hear that I am dying. This is a shock to me because I had no idea. I'm a good two millennia old so I think I've gotten to know myself pretty well, and I certainly have had tougher times than this. In my earliest days, in fact, my very existence was in question. So picture my surprise when I hear that those who have known me for only a fraction of my days are counting down to my demise.
I think what makes it all the more surprising is that many of the ones who are saying I am dying are not just observers. They are actually a part of me. A recent part, perhaps, but a part none-the-less. Because I, the church, am more than just another institution. I am, in fact, the body of Christ; the living and continuing presence of Jesus in the world. And all who believe in Christ are a member of this body, just like all believers in the past have been members of this body. To be the church is to be Christ's body in the world.
With that in mind, let's suppose, for the sake of argument, that I am dying. Let's say that death is even somewhat imminent. Let's say that the body of the church, the body of Christ, is indeed about to die.
Well, here's what I know about Christ's body. It has died before, and it has risen again. Resurrection. That's the whole message of Easter. Death occurs, but death does not win. The body rises stronger. And we, who are Easter people, should know that and not fear the end.
But beyond that, am I really dying? Because I'm not so sure that's true. Yes, fewer people are attending church. Yes, as that happens some churches are closing down. Yes, the church's influence in society is not what it used to be. But does that really mean I'm dying? Or does that just mean that the church is entering a new phase of life, just like it has before and will again? Maybe, in fact, a better phase?
Here's the thing. There's a difference between death and change. Just because I am no longer the way you (or your parents, or your grandparents) remember it growing up does not mean I am dying. Just because you don't see what you want or like when you look at the church does not mean that death is imminent. Because, and this is sometimes hard to accept, as much as you may like to believe otherwise, the church is not dependent upon your comfort or approval for its life.
So here's my question: Do you want to continue to sit and mourn around a death bed that I do not inhabit? Or do you want to be Easter people, and live in the Resurrection? If it's the former, fine, but don't call that church. Call it what you want, but don't put the words "body of Christ" on that funeral.
But if it's the latter, if you want to live as a Resurrection people, here's a few thoughts on what you can do:
1. Read Scripture:
I know, I know. There are many forms of revelation, the Bible has been used to justify some terrible things, etc., etc. But the Bible is the story of communities of faith learning how to live, and change, and grow together. And when we lose Biblical literacy we lose our story, and we lose our hope. And too many Christian have given up on really knowing the Bible.
We need to be able to talk about Moses and the Israelites taking the risk of leaving Egypt, getting lost, and then finding the promised land. We need the early Christians of the Book of Acts to tell us what it meant to be the church together in those early days. We need Paul's letters to small local churches struggling to figure out who they are and what that means. We need it all.
2. Take risks:
Every local church I've known that has died has one thing in common: for too long in their lives they were risk averse. Maybe in the last years of their lives that changed and they were willing to risk everything, but they didn't get to that place without years of choosing "safety" over choosing a bold witness to Christ's love. No one wanted to rock the boat. No one wanted to risk losing a few members. No one wanted fail. And so, slowly, the local church became so afraid of making a move that it just withered in place.
But every local church I know that has thrived has one thing in common: they took risks. Not reckless risks. But risks. They took financial risks to expand growing ministries. They took leaps of faith when calling pastors and other staff, and did not try to find a candidate who wouldn't make waves. They took risks when it came to social issues. And, most of all, they took these risks without sabotaging themselves because they feared their own success.
3. Reject negativity:
No one likes to be around negative people. (Well, possibly with the exception of other negative people.) And yet, the church is often a negative place. Church meetings are filled with anxiety about money or arguments about bylaws. Community life is uninspiring and tedious. And gossip and "parking lot meetings" are far too often the rule of life in the church. Who wants to be a part of that? Anyone who doesn't enjoy drama won't stay at a church like that for long.
More importantly, who is going to believe we are being honest about saying we have faith in Christ if our churches are like this? Because if someone says that Christian faith is all about redemption and new life and hope, and then turns around and shows someone a church that is full of pettiness and negativity, no one is going to buy it. Yes, Christians are human and make mistakes, but our default mode should be about living in God's grace, not living in fear.
4. Recognize grace and practice gratitude:
This follows on the last point. Christians are called to recognize God's grace in their lives. It's sort of the point. It's why you all sing "Amazing Grace" so much. But understanding grace on an intellectual level, and really knowing you have received grace are two different things. And here's how you know that you really understand God's grace: you can't do anything but say "thank you". Gratitude is the most natural response to grace, and it's what the Christian life is all about. Christians do what they do not to earn their way to heaven, but to say "thank you" to all of the grace that God has already provided.
So why don't churches live that way? Why is so much of Christian community life about the anxiety of not having enough? Why is it about mourning what we don't have instead of celebrating what we do?
People in recovery, perhaps some of the most aware people in the world about the grace they have received, have a practice called gratitude lists. When everything looks like it's going to hell, they sit down and write down what they are grateful for in their lives. Sometimes it starts small (I'm alive, I have enough to eat, I have enough for today) but often it grows into something more (I have more than I need, I have a community that loves me, I have meaning). What would it look like if your church made a gratitude list? Could you do it? If not, that may be part of the problem. Help those in your community to cultivate grateful hearts, and you will transform your local church.
5. Live for others, not for yourselves:
When you talk to churches in transition I ask them about their greatest challenge. "We need more people," is what you will hear a lot. Some go further and are a little more blunt: "We need more people to join so we can pay our bills." For some churches, too many, bringing new people in is not about welcoming them to a community of faith. It's about ensuring the local church's survival. And the reality is that people can see that desperation from a mile away. And no one joins a church, or any other organization, just to be another name on the books or another pledge card in the plate. And no one should.
What if instead of asking people to build up your church, you asked how your church could help build up others? What if the focus wasn't so much on healing yourself, but on helping those who need it the most? What if your greatest priority wasn't saving the church you know, but instead sharing that church with others and giving them the freedom to help change it?
And what if we lived together like the Resurrection is real, and is happening still? Because it is. And because we have work to do.
With love from the empty tomb,
P.S. -- Of course one person cannot speak for the church. But if we believers are really the church, each of us can speak as a part of the church. So what do you have to say, church? Are you dying? Or are you ready to live?