This past Friday, I was invited to attend a
revival meeting and was spiritually enthusiastic and eager to worship as nostalgic
memory kicked in of the special “revival” meetings of many years past. The songs we sang were beautiful to me and I didn't need a hymnal as words of love for the Father and Jesus came like flowing water. No courses of any kind, just "old" hymns of praise and worship. There was such a sweetness about only a piano,
organ and the sanctuary full of other voices in accompaniment. Tears had filled
my eyes by the time we were seated.
I realized I haven’t carried a handkerchief in my back pocket
for years and Bettyann wasn’t with me to ask for a Kleenex. After singing and the instrumentalist had
taken their seats is when the worship service went completely awry. I was prepared to celebrate the person of
Christ, but in the end I wondered if we were celebrating without him. I will not expose the name of the church, the
denomination it was a part of, or even what the sermon was about, as that has not stuck in my memory of a day and a half. I only remember the
rabbit trail that led us down a darkened hole of condemnation. From body piercings and baggy pants to
dancing and politicians, the list was long, the frustration clear, and the
rationale was fired with as much passion as the targets that had been
chosen. The preacher concluded with a
warning. "For hell is a fearful
reality, and many—maybe even those near to you—will find it their final place
of unrest."
"Amen!" the person
in front of me called out. "Yes,
amen," said several others in agreement.
My heart sunk further into my
soul. Did they know that
"Amen" means "Let it be"?
Remembering it has brought a certain despair to the
surface. Except, what I once remembered
only as a particular worship service in a particular place on a particular
Friday evening, I now remember as an illustration of the worship service I am
all too capable of leading at seventy one.
When I allow myself to cling more to negativity or fear than to Christ,
when I cherish words of death more than words of life, when I spend more time
complaining about what is wrong with people in or outside church than putting
energy into being the church, this is exactly the worship experience I
recreate—and there are far too many voices willing to shout "amen" at
the end of each sermon. In my opinion, Christianity
in many circles of believers, sixty five and older, has sadly become synonymous
with negativity.
In his sermon "The
Weight of Glory," C.S. Lewis took note of a subtle shift in the language
of his day, which he felt was the first detour in a road leading far away from
Christ. Writes Lewis, "If you asked
twenty good men today what they thought the highest of the virtues, nineteen of
them would reply, Unselfishness. But if
you had asked almost any of the great Christians of old, he would have replied,
Love. You see what has happened? A negative term has been substituted for a
positive, and this is of more than philosophical importance." Lewis goes
on to explain the ideologies that grow out of subtle shifts of language. The positive answer requires a perspective
that looks outward at others—those who are the recipients of the virtue or else
the one from whom this virtue arises in the first place. On the contrary, the negative virtue shows
that our concern is primarily with ourselves—our own self-denial—and hence the
appearance of good virtue. To this Lewis
notes, "The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about
self-denial as an end in itself."
In other words, the Christian story has lots to say about what is wrong
with the world. But thankfully, this is
never the end of the sermon. (And of
course, both the Old and New Testaments have a lot to say about complaining,
fear, and anger.)
I recognize, regardless of philosophical
outlook, it is very true that I live in a world that is full of bad behavior. I
also hold that I live in a world with many philosophical pitfalls and believe
in a story which offers both commentary and correctives. But God help me; that my spiritual story also
proclaims boldly that the world is simultaneously full of the glory of
God. Therefore I have every right to be
far more excited to see faith than to see fault, to prefer far more to see a
kingdom fully alive and authentically graceful than quick to complain and deciding
who is in and out of that kingdom.
This same spiritual story that compels me to defend my faith also informs me to do so with gentleness and reverence—so that those who abuse me for my "good conduct in Christ" may be put to shame 1 Peter 3:15-16. The same spiritual story that bids me as a follower of Christ to do all things "without complaining and arguing" instructs me to do so because it is by my "holding fast to the word of life" that I demonstrate a truly different message than that of a crooked and perverse generation Philippians 2:14-16. Moreover, the same teacher who died to defend the person of Christ called his followers to stay focused on the kind of person Christ is: "For the Son of God, Jesus Christ, whom we proclaimed among you, Silvanus and Timothy and I, was not 'Yes and No'; but in him it is always 'Yes.' For in him every one of God's promises is a 'Yes.' For this reason it is through him that we say the 'Amen,' to the glory of God" 2 Corinthians 1:19-20.
In any worship service that I
ever create with my words and my actions, with the things I do and the things I
leave undone, how remarkable if there is good reason for those around me to say
"Amen."
