Why I Go to Church, Part 2

My current church home

Over my years of adulthood, I have skipped church from time to time. If I skip for more than a week or two, I miss it. Yet my relationship to church-going as an adult has not been as untroubled and serene as it was in my childhood and teenage years. Some of that symbolism and meaning from my childhood has been lost and I've found myself becoming jaded on some counts. 

Depending on the style of the church, it seems like either the hymns get old, or they're singing songs I don't know at all. There's a lot more asking for money, in ways that at times feel coercive. There's always a tension between the culture of "preserving the group," and the call of Jesus for Christianity to reach out and dismantle walls. There's always a tension between singing, speaking and praying as an act of worship, versus the setup of the room (stage, microphones, etc.) that clearly conveys that this is a performance for an audience.

And then there are the preachers, who are still a conundrum to me. Through my adult eyes I often perceive reasons why the preacher is preaching, reasons other than the ones I'd ideally wish for. I've been friends with enough pastors by now to know that the reasons are as myriad as the pastors, and that they are horribly, failingly human in the thoughts that dance through their heads as they sit or stand up there looking externally serene and dignified. Being fairly intuitive, I'm always interested in figuring out what makes the preacher tick. Since I have met very few women preachers in my flavor of Church, I'll use the masculine pronoun to discuss the preacher-types I've met.

Why is he preaching? There are often clues, whether he knows it or not. He's preaching because it's an ego-boost-head-rush to have hundreds of people listening to him saying brilliant or clever things, because he wants to hear the sound of his own voice, because it's just his job, because he wants to reassure himself in the midst of knowing he's a secret mess, or because he craves control over others. When I have sensed this about the preacher, I find myself becoming impatient. Luckily I've had very few of those as my pastor. But in the case of one, I had to quit attending that church after leaving angry, week after week, at the self-serving, congregation-guilting, simplistic and judging words I heard. I tried to look past them and see a real and loveable person, but the task became impossible. Perhaps that was my failure, but there it is.

My pastor, who fits the description in the next paragraph. 

You could see a sermon here (sermon starts at 45:45, in the bottom right-hand corner of your screen)

On a happier note, I have had the great blessing of having several pastors over the years who preach because they actually experience a living, wrestling relationship with God. Their messages reveal that God impresses them with life-changing concepts to share with their congregations. They are pastors who are real about themselves and about life. They are pastors who acknowledge that life and faith do not have easy answers. They are pastors who appreciate and love their parishioners just as they are, yet gently motivate them to change and growth. They cause me to sit up and listen with laser focus, and to go home chewing on the message, rerunning the metaphors and stories in my mind. I can't imagine being in their shoes, because they must be regularly assailed by all those overwhelming things that assail such people of God and try to take them down. I am grateful for them. 

[to be continued]