This Christian Life

Dear Church,

I’ve never written a letter to you before. I’ve never had to. I was introduced to you when I was a child, and have been visiting you almost every week since then. You have been an important influence in my life. You’ve helped shape me.

Now I feel like I don’t know you at all. After all this time of knowing you, you have caught me off guard. You’ve been saying things that are the opposite of what you usually say. I’ve seen you send people away angry instead of loved, confused instead of comforted, unteachable instead of instructed. I’ve seen people come away from you sad because of the things they experience with you. I’ve seen you with eyes that are blackly intense as you bend over to hear words of gossip and mistrust.

I feel unsure of what you will do next. You’re unpredictable. I mean, who ARE you, anyway? I want to believe you’re still the one who shelters the needy, the one who fosters a safe environment for the people of this fucked-up world. You ARE the harbor where there is unconditional love. You go beyond logic. You prove that faith exists. You are the opposite of everything that the world imposes. You are the ONE who cares, listens, reaches out, and smiles when a sad face knocks on your door.

I know people who need to meet you. They are quite a few, actually. They’re everywhere… in my neighborhood and yours. I’d introduce you, but… I’m embarrassed. You don’t really have anything to offer them anymore. What am I supposed to tell them? “Well, you know the church? I guess you shouldn’t meet afterall. It’s a touchy situation. I’ll let you know when things get better.”

I’ve tried a few times to bring people along, but most of the time, they can’t understand your dialect. They’ve never met anyone like you and think your customs are weird. Can’t you just stick to the basics? I mean, wouldn’t that be more effective? Those ARE the people you’re trying to get to know, right?

What happened to you? I’d like to know. There’s nothing more that I would rather see than you getting better. Healthier. It’s time you changed your ways to meet the needs of others, instead of them always having to meet your needs.

I’m sad for you. As you can see I’m at the end of all hope. I’m afraid you’re dying. I have questions. Do you have answers? Let’s talk about it… SOON.

With great sadness,
Me