13 July 2004

What would a real "community" look like? Barky has been reflecting on the way members of his previous church have treated him since he made the decision to take time out from church for a while. (Thanks to the Finker for putting me onto this guy.) Barky writes: People make a lot less effort with you; after all they need to invest their time and energy into spending time with people already in their church community. If you’re not in, you’ll be left out. Church can be immensely activity and resource focussed. Concerned more about the product, the content and message and less about culture, context and individual lives. Church places an economic value on you. When you leave you suddenly have little or nothing to contribute anymore. You are worth nothing unless you can contribute something or you are going to consume the ‘product’. Timescales and timeframes of ‘activity’ are dictated from within the church. Those outside must comply. Church (depending on the tradition) is predominately interested in morality and disinterested in spirituality. Everything must be functional. There is very little space for the arts. Barky isn't the first to be dissatisfied with his church's idea of "community". I have known the shallowness of community in Pentecostal and evangelical churches, but at the same time I can't say I am satisfied with the kind of community I belong to at the moment. It too is a mainly-on-Sunday kind of community, and there is no real involvement in one another's lives. Many of us have expressed our hunger for true, spiritual "community", but I am wondering today what it is we expect. What would a true, spiritual community look like in practice? I'm throwing this one out there. In the meantime, listen to how beautifully the Finker expresses this longing for community: I long to lead a church that truly understands, listens to, weeps with, laughs with and prays with ALL people. That has open doors to all; grace dripping from every pore of the Body; love that transforms - human to human; sacrifice that hurts & matures; teaching that truly edifies the soul; generosity that shocks; forgiveness that knows no bounds; laughter that shakes the walls of the building; honesty that disarms the cynic; tears that burn on the hearts of strangers; singing that reminds us of heaven. Dave 10:39:45 AM    Join the conversation [] No more sea: Reflecting on a blessing and a curse I would quite often strike up interesting conversations with the strangers who would kindly pick me up to ride me down to the Cove. I met some of my most memorable islanders there: An aspiring science-fiction writer; a newspaper editor; a female rabbi from Israel; a new-age poet with a fascination for auras. Actually, the typical islander would be a combination of all the above, but I digress. One time not long before I was returning to live in England, I got speaking to a European lady, and she said something that made me see things a way I hadn't considered before. She said when I made the decision to come back to Canada, I was making a decision that was going to affect the rest of my life. It wasn't just a decision to go back there for a few years, but I was in fact determing that for the rest of my earthly life I would be torn between two sides of the Atlantic. There was no going back. Things would never be the same again. That thought stayed with me. I had made a decision far greater and more momentous than I ever realized. It's almost as if to accept the blessing of returning to Canada, I had also to accept the curse of being forever torn between two countries. Well, not quite forever. There's a promise in scripture that I think those of us with one foot on either side of an ocean can uniquely identify with, or at least see from a unique angle. It was John in Revelation who wrote of the new earth, "No longer will there be any sea". John speaks to those who, like me, have already known too many painful airport farewells. I guess in part it was my parents who really made that decision for me, when they decided as a family we'd say goodbye to our Vancouver home and head for England. Or going back even further, when my Canadian mother decided to marry an Englishman. Or before that still, when my Dad, an curious twenty-something, decided to leave England for a Canadian adventure. I wonder if they'd thought about the curse that came with the blessing? I wonder if they understood the far-reaching significance of their decisions? The blessing is worth it, but still I look forward to that time when the ocean will be no longer. Dave 9:50:56 AM    Join the conversation []

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