Andre's Blog

Every year at this time, a pair of Canada geese settle onto my front lawn for a week or two.  My family has nicknamed them Fred and Ethel.  (We are of course assuming these are the same birds each year, and that there is one male and one female. Frederica and Ethel?)  As I was walking into an appointment recently, I noticed a pair of Canada geese standing on the roof of a new house and honking profusely. The two geese were honking the way an old married couple natters. "I know there is a house here, but it wasn't here last year!"  "Oh, would you just stop and ask for directions! We're lost!" "No, we are not lost!  I'm telling you, this was an empty field last year." "Sure. Whatever you say." 

As the boy walked aimlessly for some minutes, a shining light caught his attention.  It was as though the sun had fallen from the sky, and was now pursuing him through the thick and scattered woods.  The boy began to walk faster, but the light drew nearer.  He began to run, but still the light overtook him.  All at once the boy tripped on a tree root and fell headlong into the soft earth.  Covered with dirt and moss, and fearful of the unknown, the boy rolled on to his back to catch his breath.  There hovering above him was the light, as bright as the sun, but as cold as the winter winds.  The sight was at once beautiful and terrible. The little boy shook in fear as he turned his head away.

Suddenly, the light was gone.  The forest was quiet, apart from some distant bird song and the moaning of the light breeze through the branches of the trees.  The little boy rolled over onto his hands and knees to stand up, when he caught sight of foot prints in the soft earth.  His foot prints! He easily followed his own path home.  He was warmly received by his worried parents, who through hugs and tears reaffirmed their love for him, and their warnings about going too far into the woods.  Soon the little boy had been cleaned up, his scratches treated, a warm stew in his stomach, and he was safely tucked into his bed.  In the quietness of pre-sleep, he asked his mother about the light.

"I would not have a clue, son."  She responded. "There are stranger things on God's good green earth and in his holy heaven than I can ken.  I thank the Lord above for that light, for although it terrified you, it also helped you find you way home to me."  After a hug that lasted a little longer than usual, and a deep and long kiss on the forehead from his doting mother, the boy fell into a deep and restful sleep.  And he dreamed of future adventures in the woods, but they could wait until he was a little bit bigger.

While that is an extreme example of unhealth in a church community, more subtle viruses creep in to challenge the health of a group of believers.  I found out that the word community can be traced back to the Latin term "gift of togetherness".  What a great definition! We all come to community with a bunch of expectations, spoken and unspoken.  Some come to faith community expecting people to be surface nice and that's enough.  Others want deep significant relationships at every turn.  Some just assume that community is a dangerous place emotionally and relationally, so they keep their distance.  I think one of the viruses that can really hurt community is the virus of expectations.

Think about it.  If we all show up to a community looking to make emotional and spiritual withdrawals on our own terms, it won't be long until that community is bankrupt.  The usual complaint about churches is that 10% of the people do 90% of the work.  In that model, the 10% group better have a lot of resources available, because the 90% want what they want.  

So, are you an investor in community?  I'm not talking about money, I'm talking about time and emotions and prayer.  The myth of quality time is almost dead in our society- and I say good.  How can we expect to show up on Sunday morning at our faith community and invest quality time for 75 minutes?  We need to eat with people, we need to hear their problems, we need to share our hurts and victories.  We need to pray with and for others.  We need to laugh together.  We need to show up in each other's lives.  The most significant time I have spent with people in community has not happened on Sunday morning- shock!  It happens over a coffee; it happens around a supper table; it happens pouring over the Scriptures together, searching for answers. 

If community is to be the "gift of togetherness", then we need to set aside our expectations of "what I get out of community" and replace them with an expectation of "what I will give to community". Every faith community needs your emotionally present time- not just to be an ekklesia doulos, but as an interested and caring investor.  The gift of community is the gift we bring, not the one we receive. 

Community without enough investors soon becomes sick.  The signs and symptoms?  Burnout in the 10% group. Apathy. Complaints that "needs are not being met". Christianity is about serving, not being served. It is about giving, not getting.  It is about the other, not self.  Are you part of the gift of togetherness, or have you caught the virus?