Church Commitment Issues

I've moved 23 times (21 in LA county), left all but two jobs in under 9 months, and have known only two people outside my family over 7 years.  Apparently I have commitment issues.  I've been in my current home for 6 months and I'm getting antsy, ready to have a new surrounding.  I don't think these issues really pose a problem for me in most aspects of my life.  But I'm beginning to realize that this issue overflowed into my church commitment.  This is a problem and I know I'm not the only one who struggles with it.

Most churches have a membership class available to new attendees every month or so.  In the class a member of the church staff tells the attendees about the church--the beliefs, statement of faith, etc--and answers any questions the attendees may have.  This is usually followed with the attendees signing a form stating they will now align themselves with the church's statement of faith.

Disclaimer: 1) I am not saying church membership is wrong.  I actually believe it is sadly necessary. 2) Although I argue against leaving a church, I do believe there are times when leaving a church is good for both the Christian and the church.  But more often than not, people do not have these good reasons to leave.

But I don't see this in the Bible, so why does the Church of today need to adopt this practice?

There are many excuses, but the main reason is this: people are afraid to commit.  If people feel like they are part of the team and have a say in what happens then they will get more involved and not run away at the first sign of discomfort.  So churches have adopted the tradition of membership.  In general, we HATE confrontation more than anything else and discomfort is generally the first sign that confrontation is in the future.  In fact, we hate confrontation more than we love community.  This is a tragedy in the deepest sense.

So far as I know, never does God instruct us to avoid--much less run away from--confrontation.  Instead, we are given instruction to pursue peace and love for one another.  In Romans, while describing the marks of a Christian, Paul tells the church "If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all." (Rom. 12:18)  We are to act as one body (1 Cor. 12:12-31) with one goal, "empowered by one and the same Spirit" (1 Cor. 12:11).  After all, Paul says, "God has so composed the body...that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another." (1 Cor. 12:24-25)  A good section in the first letter to the Corinthians is written about love, painting a picture of humility and patience.  He ends this description with this: "So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.  Pursue love..." (1 Cor. 13:13-14:1)

This in no way means that we are to run the second an uncomfortable situation rears its ugly little head.  Matthew recounts Jesus' instructions to the disciples on confrontation in Matthew 18.  After once again showing His disciples His heart towards sin and the lost, Jesus tells the disciples to first confront the person who has sinned against them alone.  Then, if they do not listen, bring in a third party "that every charge may be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses." (Matt. 18:16)  If the person still refuses to listen, tell the church.  Then if yet again they refuse to listen--then and only then--are you to lay the issue to rest and "let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector." (Matt. 18:17)

But--and this is truly a HUGE but--Jesus does not in any way, shape, or form instruct His disciples to separate themselves from that community.  In fact, if we look at past interactions Jesus had with Gentiles and tax collectors, we see that we are supposed to treat them with love and respect (see John 4:1-45, Luke 19:1-10; Matt. 8:5-13).  We have used this reference in Matthew 18 to give us an excuse to run away when things get tough in relationships.  Yet when things got tough for Jesus in His closest relationships (think of the disciples falling asleep during His final hours and Judas' betrayal) He dug His heels in.

We see this exemplified by Paul in his letter to the Galatians as well as the author of the letter to the Hebrews.  At the beginning of the letter, Paul expresses his surprise with the Galatians, saying, "I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting Him who called you in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel--not that there is another one, but there are some who trouble you and want to distort the gospel of Christ." (Gal. 1:6-7)  Later his frustrations becomes apparent when he exclaims, "O foolish Galatians!" (Gal. 3:1)  The author of Hebrews has a similar frustration with the Hebrews refusing to grow, choosing laziness in their faith. (Heb. 5:11-12)

Neither of these spiritual leaders ran away or ignored the problem--they attacked it head on and didn't let go.  This should be our response.  We need to desire community and work for that community no matter the cost.

After God created Adam He decided that it was "not good that the man should be alone", so God created woman.  When Jesus first sent out the disciples, He sent them out in teams of two (Luke 10:1).  And according to Jesus, the greatest two commandments in the Bible are to love God and love others (Matt. 22:37-40).  How can we possibly love others if we are not in a community with them?  According to John, one of Jesus' disciples, we love God by keeping His commandments (1 John 5:3).  Therefore, in order to fulfill both commandments Jesus describes, we must love others.  Jesus makes these two commandments so intrinsically linked that we cannot possibly choose one and not do the other.

But, you may say, I can love my neighbor and everyone around me without having to commit to a church.  I don't believe this is completely possible.  Yes, there is a general love that we can have and show to those around us that we do not know.  But how is this anything like the love of Jesus?  When Jesus was on earth He ministered to everyone around Him, but He also had His close friends like Lazarus (John 11:5) as well as the twelve disciples, specifically Peter, John, and James.  He invested most of His time with them despite their immaturity (for example, Luke 9:46).

Let's face it, though.  Usually the reason we want to run from a church has a weak foundation at best.  I know that as soon as I start to feel like a church is becoming "home", I look for anything that could possibly be wrong and then latch on to that and run.  Some of these things could even have been a mistake on the part of the speaker, but I don't wait for explanations.  I just run.  And I know I'm not the only one who does this.  I've heard many reasons people have left the church, and a lot of times it's downright petty.  These range from the pastor dresses wrong to not singing enough hymns to the church accepting unrepentant people to the service times being inconvenient to the wrong stance on alcohol.  It's absolutely ridiculous.  Seriously?

Are we really that afraid of commitment?  What on earth will happen if we stay with a church for more than a year or so?  And I mean that literally--what on earth?  Because, if we really have faith in Jesus, we will know that nothing on earth--nothing--can "separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Rom. 8:35-39).

So why are we so afraid of commitment?  Are we afraid to be known by a fellow believer?  Do we think once our fellow believers see us for who we really are, a sinner, the rest of the church will reject us?  Is our consideration of the church so low that we don't trust the family that God has given us?  Do we really have so little faith in the God of the universe, the One who saved us, that we can't commit to His people?

A Hospital Visit

I've experienced a lot of physical pain in my life.  The joke amongst my friends while growing up was that I had my annual injury to complete before a year was truly over. But I had never felt pain like this before.  Yet my first thought after we were hit was not of my pain but of someone else.

I just came out of a few weeks being angry at God, not because He wasn't present or because of something that had happened in my life, but because of the state of His church.  Despite attending a Christian university I felt like the only difference was that we went to chapel three times a week...maybe.  I sat there in each of my classes confused, frustrated, and tired.  I had never yelled so much at God.  "Why?!" I would ask.  "WHY would you allow YOUR Church to become so damn DARK!"  I don't usually cuss, but in this context, in my anger, I deemed it completely appropriate.  After all, the Church I saw was acting no different than if they were damned to hell.

But then I go to a class discussing Dostoevsky's "The Brothers Karamazov".  One character, Father Zossima, mentions the importance of looking for the light in the dark.  He says that if we look for dark we will find it, but if we keep searching for the light we will discover that it is stronger and much more resilient than darkness.  After all, the stars shine through the dark sky every night despite being` millions of miles away.

Two days later I spend a glorious day with my four best friends.  The five of us--as we always call ourselves--received tickets to Disneyland, the happiest place on earth!  After a brief discussion between my roommate and me about who will drive, we decide she will this time and I would drive next time.  About an hour later, after meeting up and driving through a little traffic, the five of us arrive at Disneyland!

We get on the tram and I begin to feel a little sick, but I figure I'm just exhausted and that the feeling will go away once I start to move more.  Despite my optimism, my first stop is the restroom near Space Mountain where I expel the contents of my stomach.  This unhappy event completed, we go on some rides and enjoy some popcorn, which my stomach eventually decides I don't want after all and gives to a tree just inside the castle.  Thankfully the rest of the day goes wonderfully.  And these two incidents don't dampen my spirits at all.  In fact, I laugh about it.  I honestly think it is the funniest experience!  I just keep laughing and praising God for my friends.

With the image of the beautiful fireworks show in my head, we make our way back through the masses to the car and then to home.  We talk about how much fun the day has been and that we should do things like this more often.  As we turn onto campus I look up and notice we shouldn't be turning.  We are going to be hit.  No, I am going to be hit.

Silence.  Angels singing.  Peace.

The next moment I hear the crunch of metal as two cars attempt to defy the laws of physics and occupy the same place at the same time and, in what seems like half a second, I notice that the two people on the driver side are out of the car, my roommate is being yelled at by the other driver, and my friend behind me is stuck but ok.  I want to get out of the car.  That person needs to stop yelling at my friend!  They have absolutely no right to treat her like that.  But I blink and they are gone and a man in uniform is near my window telling me they are trying to get me out of the car, comforting me and saying they are doing everything they can and that I'll be more comfortable soon.  I can't process this information.  The car is just pressing in too hard and there are too many lights and people.

The next moment I'm in the ambulance feeling and hearing everything but seeing nothing.  One of my friends is telling me, "I'm right here with you.  We're going to the hospital.  I'll be with you the whole time."

Over what seems like a few minutes, but is most likely many hours, I get a X-ray, CT Scan, and, finally, after my friend yells at the nurses to help me with my pain, some morphine.  But everything is so fuzzy.  I'm so confused that I can't even say Psalm 23, so my friend and I work through it together, piecing together what we remember in an attempt to find peace.  I'm unsure if we got it right, but it is comforting to focus on something other than my pain as I lift myself on and off the X-ray and CT Scan tables.

As the CT Scan is finishing, I remember that something is wrong with my sheets.  They smell and are wet.  They need to be changed.  So I ask the technician to change my sheets.  "How long have I been laying in my own urine?" I wonder to myself.

At some point I ask my friend to call my mom.  For all I know she had already called her, but suddenly my mom was at my side talking with the nurse.

"You didn't check her blood pressure after she left the ambulance?!  Don't you dare give her anything else until we know what her blood pressure is!"

The nurse checks.  It's 60/33.  The normal range is 110-120/60-70.

"Morphine will lower her blood pressure.  She's in and out of consciousness as it is and you are going to give her something that will LOWER her blood pressure even more?!  Find something else NOW!  She'll be in a coma soon if you give her that!"

My mom is angry, that much I know, but I just want to sleep.  I hear the doctor explaining things to my mom, but I understand a few things like, "She may not make it" and "There may be extensive brain damage" and "She will never walk again." And always--always--qualified with "We'll just have to wait and see what happens."

I'm feeling a little stronger and look around to see where I am.  Something is different.  I realize I'm in an ambulance again and there is a man sitting next to me and talking.  Apparently I asked him a question because he seems to be talking to me and explaining something.  So I decide to talk with him.  Might as well.  I have no idea how long this ride is going to last.

But as I blink I suddenly find myself in a beautiful, big, bright, comfortable hospital room.  A nurse has been checking on me and apparently we are going to try to get the rest of the glass off me before I get too comfortable.  Why is there still glass on me?  The nurse and my mom carefully and gently try to wipe off any glass they find and then start picking out the bits that are stuck to my skin.  I realize I have scratches all over my hands and arms and that it all stings.

Then the pain hits me and all I want is relief.  I'm starting to realize that I've been in pain for hours, maybe even days.  I just want it to stop.  And it does.  A nurse slowly pushes the medicine into my IV and tells me to try to relax and sleep.  I have no choice as the warmth of the medicine seems to trickle down my body.  I slip off into a dreamless sleep.

When I wake I see friends coming in my room.  Their expressions range from solemn grimaces to forced smiles, but I'm so happy to see people I know!  We laugh and some of my friends--the nursing majors--look over my X-rays with my mom, intrigued by the location and extent of all seven fractures (we later found an eighth hairline fracture that was hidden by the swelling).  A nurse walks in to check on my vitals and I realize I know him.  We go to school together.  The shock on his face quickly turns to an awkward look.  I can tell he's thinking he needs to get out of the room.  Somehow, at some point, everybody is gone and it's just me and my mom again.

But all my thoughts fade away when my roommate who was driving and her parents walk in the room.  She brought me a white, fluffy teddy bear.  She asks me how I'm doing, but I can tell she is eyeing the door, ready to run as soon as things become too uncomfortable.  I try to work out in my mind why she would possibly want to run away but the exhaustion, pain, and drugs are making it so difficult.  And then it hits me.

"I don't blame you."  I tell her.  I have no idea what else to say but I know something must be said and I have to be the one to say it.

"What?"  The shock in her voice confirms my suspicion.  She thinks I hate her.  But how could I possibly hate her?  She starts telling me why I should blame her, saying that she should have turned, but her words don't make any sense to me, so I cut her off.

"It was an accident.  They happen."

She starts to cry--I think this might be the first time I've ever seen her cry--and then says the unthinkable, "I should be here!  Not you!"

"No!" The last thing in the world I want is for anyone else, much less her, to feel more pain than they already have.  "I don't blame you!  It's ok!"  I grab her hand and we hug for who knows how long.

I didn't understand the weight of that simple statement until I heard her tell the story from her side months later.  I couldn't imagine blaming her.  In my mind for about six months I believed myself to blame.  After all, she didn't realize we would be hit and I did.  I thought I should have said something.  But some of the wisest words anyone has ever said to me were: "It was an accident.  No one was in control.  Not you, not your roommate.  Accidents happen and that's ok."

In that situation, we both felt like we needed forgiveness and grace.  She needed it from someone else while I needed it from myself.  And through all the turmoil came a beautiful realization for me.  If I look for the dark in a situation, I will inevitably find it.  But if you look for the light, for love and grace and forgiveness, God will show Himself to you in His eternal glory and outshine the dark every single time.