How complicated can choosing a church be? In my home city in Canada of 350,000 people, I doubt I’m exaggerating when I say we have about 25 churches of my denomination to choose from, a little Menno ghetto. People are naturally drawn to join groups with others similar to themselves, it’s just more comfortable that way, seeing yourself in others.
When choosing a church in my hometown, one can find a stronger emphasis on Christian Ed, international ministry, house church, shared leadership, women leaders, men leaders, more emphasis on theology, all grey-haired or zoo-like overrun with babies and toddlers, more professionally focused, all the choices are available with slight differences to suit your church-going needs and style. Just look around until you find a suitable fit. One can even tailor one’s choice with music preferences, with a band (drums or no drums), without a band, with organ, without organ, acapella, camp songs on overhead, lots of instrumentals, choirs, one where your little darling prodigy can play chopsticks at the Christmas program, or where they only use professional soloists.
Here in our little Guate town, if you want to go to church in English, choices are few. My Sunday morning choice meets is a worship gathering at a bar. It’s not led by a pastor but rather a trial lawyer turned missionary. The couple that runs these services for the expats are good friends of mine.
Despite Pana having at least a couple of hundred expats (judging by some of the gringo parties I’ve been to), it’s interesting that there is only a small handful of regular attendees to this little gathering service. The lake area is dominated by new age and some eastern religions. Mostly the people here are anti-religion, anti-God. To many here, someone partaking in organized religion is considered a low life form on the spiritual evolutionary food chain.
The lay leader who leads the Sunday worship gathering, a good friend of mine, has a particularly big heart when it comes to the addicts in town. Every week the worship gathering is different, depending on what drunks come and what shape they are in. It’s often sad. Once a guy came in barefoot with writing all over his face and bald head, because when drunks pass out on the street people may write on them and take their shoes. Some Sundays the one guy will get out his panflute and just start playing in his own world there, loud conversations may break out, sometimes people are asked to leave, or forced to leave. I’ve seen it get a little ugly.
This past Sunday our little group consisted of seven intoxicated people, three tough street vendor boys, one bipolar guy, and one recent ex-con. I was on team-sober with only four of us in attendance. I had trouble concentrating on the message that day because all I could think about was that saying, “the key to empathy is recognizing yourself in others.” That morning it was a stretch for me.
Again I think of the many churches in my hometown, how sometimes small details will bother people and make them change churches. After all, the variety is there and they can. Why not go to a place that fits you the best? But it makes me wonder how many of the people who fill the pews in my hometown would still keep attending church if the only one available to them was the one I attend here. Would they tolerate the craziness, the drunks, the unpredictable nature of each service, the diverse group of people who come together on Sundays to find some kind of community, however bizarre and disfunctional. What would the tolerance level be for attending a group where you will not find a kindred spirit similar to your own, only people who are profoundly different. Could you still worship, could you still be part of a community, could you still grow?
While it’s no biblical mystery that Jesus chose to circulate among some of the most undesirable characters of his society, it begs the question, can you or I really stomach doing the same. Perhaps in theory yes, but how about when the guy sitting next to you who reeks of pee, passes out onto your shoulder, spills his coffee down your leg, while his dog who just finished licking himself, licks the coffee off your toes. How about then…
Perhaps the buffet of churches available to us is also a collective detriment to our growth. We gravitate towards a church where the people are most like us, so we can all agree and feel good, so we can live with as little diversity and conflict as possible, making us a bit complacent. Perhaps being thrown into a setting of pure diversity with no one to mirror one’s beliefs, is where the richest fertilizer for growth exists. Perhaps it’s in this discomfort zone where no one is validating us, where we wonder, then ask, then expand, and become independently stronger.