This Sunday morning perhaps 50 people were present.
In speaking with one of the members of the church -- an older gentleman who had been active in that particular church for decades -- he explained that once the church was indeed a thriving downtown church. But as more and more people moved out to the suburbs, the surrounding neighborhoods became less and less populated with families, and the church dwindled.
The average age in the congregation this morning was in the vicinity of 70, I'd gather.
This particular church was withering on the vine. It was dying right before the eyes of those who had been with it for years and years.
And yet, the pastor gave one of the more beautiful and moving sermons on the nature of God's Grace I've ever seen.
In addition to this, the church -- located in a downtown area as it is -- accepts homeless people within its walls to find brief respite from the elements and to use the restroom facilities. As a result, the hallways and corridors smelled of unwashed people; a rather sour and foul odor. I was simultaneously bothered by this and convicted of my ungraciousness.
All of this made me ponder the response we are to give to God in recognition of forgiveness and salvation. I stood within the walls of a church that was dying and quite likely to cease being within a few years. It offered services to the local homeless, yet would cease doing so when the church's doors closed. I stood there a visitor, unlikely to return to Seattle for years, if ever.
What should be my response?
My entire net worth would keep the doors open for perhaps a year, at most. That money would be spent to heat and maintain a large structure, largely unused, so a handful of people could worship there, and some number of homeless people could find momentary shelter.
Honestly, I was struck dumb by the juxtaposition of the beauty of the physical structure, the beauty of the faith displayed by the remnant congregation, and the apparent futility of the whole endeavor. It was sad. Deeply, disturbingly, sad.
You wrote, "When belief does not control your most important decisions it is not belief in the underlying reality, it is belief in the usefulness of believing." I won't disagree with that because I stand condemned at the bar of judgment that sentence provides. And still I struggle: What does truth faith look like? Who may I look upon and think, "Now there's a true man of faith, one worthy of emulating?"
All I can do is fight against my natural inclination towards selfish accumulation of wealth and look to the Lord himself to chip away at the many layers of my very humanity so that perhaps he can build me back up in his image. Is that what's called for? Is that enough?
On the wall of the church today was an inscription from Proverbs 3:5-6: "Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight." I could not help but think that within those two verses was a kernel of truth regarding God and our response. Unfortunately, the mechanics of my response to Him are faulty and unsure. I fail in the 100% test. Yet in my heart I seek him, in a faltering way.
* * *
When I wrote that the Christian faith is mutually exclusive with all others, I meant this:
- Jews do not believe Jesus was the promised messiah; the Christian faith is based on the belief that he was. Both cannot be right.
- Muslims do not believe Jesus was crucified; the Christian faith is anchored in the certainty of his crucifixion. Both cannot be right.
- Hindus believe God has appeared incarnate in many different manifestations; the Christian faith is based on the belief that God was incarnate in one unrepeatable event. Both cannot be right.
- Buddhists believe man can achieve fulfillment in what he does; the Christian faith believes man is fundamentally flawed and can never achieve fulfillment on his own. Both cannot be right.
* * *
"I'll define supernatural as something that cannot be explained by science."
I am deeply troubled by that definition:
- That means that at one point in time the flight of a bird was supernatural.
- That means that "supernatural" is a transient state -- changing to natural once science comes up with an explanation, whether that explanation is correct or not.
- That means that all events must be suspect because one day -- perhaps way in the future -- science may believe it has an explanation for it.
I am a troubled soul this evening, deep.thought. I am troubled by a good many things, not the least of which is a profound uncertainty about what faith is and what I am to do with what little I have. I have faced the prospect of walking away from faith, but cannot fathom a walk back into the emptiness from whence I came. I see the sincere faith expressed by the pastor of a dying church and stand in complete awe. I see homeless people milling about that dying church and know not what I should do.
I look out across the horizon of possibilities, and honestly can't see any solution. This is why, to me, the Christian faith makes sense -- the solution is not within us, but in Christ. Nothing else seems to make better sense.
My trouble is I have not yet fully counted the cost of that belief.
So I stand troubled.
It is times like this that words like "Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight" ring with a validity I can't debate or defend, but merely accept and believe.
Weakly ... incompletely ... I stand in Christ.
Your brother.
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