“Sometimes it’s boring. Sometimes it’s thrilling. Sometimes it makes me cry.”
(Quote from “The Wonderful Ordinariness of Congregational Life” by Cheryl Fullerton, Christian Century, March 2022)
Recently I was thinking about church. (Full disclosure … I think about church quite a bit.) But, in particular, I was thinking about the rhythm of church life. And I think the above quote from Cheryl Fullerton sums it up pretty nicely.
Sometimes it’s boring.
I admit, sometimes there is something that is uninteresting about church. Perhaps it is the repetitive nature of it. Perhaps it is the cyclical nature of things. Perhaps it is seeing the same people in the same pew week after week and year after year.
We know that Fred will sing the hymns out of tune … every time. We know that Mary will cluck her tongue at someone’s tattoo peeking out from their sundress. We know that Mike will fall asleep during the sermon and we know that Dan will try to share the peace with every single person. We know that the children will fidget. We know that the baby might cry. We know that we have rituals and sacraments and prayers that we say each week. We know that sometimes we won’t hear the utter preposterousness and absurdity and utterly amazing news that Jesus loves each of us and all of us – that sometimes this message sails over our heads because we’re too busy looking at the bulletin.
And yet …
Sometimes it’s thrilling.
I always get goosebumps when I hear the words, “I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” I rejoice each Easter when we all shout, “He is risen! He is risen indeed!” Candles lit in darkness bring hope and light on Christmas Eve. When I am privileged to place bread in people’s hands and I see young, old, wrinkled, black, white, brown hands reaching out for Jesus, it is truly miraculous.
We know that Fred cares for his wife with Alzheimer’s. We know that Mary still grieves her daughter. We know that Mike works the late shift and we know that Dan only leaves his group home for church. We know that the children will hear of Jesus. We know that the baby will grow up in the community of elders. We know that sometimes we will hear and understand, if even for a moment, the utter preposterousness and absurdity and utterly amazing news that Jesus loves each of us and all of us.
And so …
Sometimes it makes me cry.
Church is not for the faint-hearted. Church is not for people who only want to be with their own kind. Church is for the young, the middle-aged and the old. The healthy and the sick. The spiritually depleted and the spiritually full. Those who are seeking, those who are exhausted, and those who are filled with fire for justice. We all come together. The Freds and Marys and Mikes and Dans. And we sing and we pray and we receive Jesus, in community, together.
Church is wonderfully boring and thrilling. We catch glimpses of the divine amongst the coffee pot and petty disagreements. We see Mary hug the tattooed young girl after she is baptized. We see Mike exchange high fives with Dan. We see Fred with tears singing at the top of his lungs, “I Know that My Redeemer Lives.”
There is nothing like church.
“Sometimes it’s boring. Sometimes it’s thrilling. Sometimes it makes me cry.”
+ Bishop Shelley Bryan Wee / bishop@lutheransnw.org
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