4/5/05

Sometimes I find it difficult to be in community together with other Christians; specifically, in worship. I think this is because, when I’m in those contexts, I sometimes look around and begin to notice how weird, selfish, broken, and ugly (spiritually) we all are. And the sum total of so many sinners in one place brings out the worst in me. I start to become a critic: of the worship itself, of the people who are leading the worship, and of the people who are participating in the worship. I hate doing this, but it happens. The whole thing begins to look awkward, off-key, and self-conscious.

But it can be beautiful too.

I’ve experienced the beauty of Christian community twice within the past week and I want to write these instances down so that I can look back and remember. The first one occurred in the Sunday service—just this past week—when we prayed the Lord’s Prayer at the conclusion of the Prayers of the People.

I love praying the Lord’s Prayer. In order for it not to be just rote repetition for me, however, I like to be able to hear my voice and place emphasis where I feel it should be. Often, I have trouble concentrating on this prayer in the company of others; the multiple voices tend to distract me. But this time was different; why, I don’t know.

As I prayed, I could hear the gravelly voice of the older gentleman behind me; I could hear the strong, almost defiant voice of a young woman on my right; I could (faintly) hear the whispering of another woman to my left. And in the midst of it, in snatches, I could hear my own voice, earnestly praying this prayer.

Together the four of us, as well as the rest of the congregation, joined as one voice, talking to our God. And I remember thinking to myself, “This is what it’s all about: all of us very different people coming together and being united as we ask for God’s will to be done and God’s Kingdom to come.” Now, this obviously wasn’t the first time this had happened—indeed, it happens every week, millions of times over, as faithful (and not so faithful) saints join in this prayer. But this was the first time I had been awakened to this phenomenon of community in a while.

The other glimpse of the beauty of Christian community occurred just this morning. I’m at the West Coast Presbyterian Pastor’s Conference in Mt. Hermon on study leave. This morning as we gathered for breakfast we sang the Doxology before we ate. About 200 pastors and church leaders within the denomination sang:

Praise God from whom all blessings flow
Praise Him all creatures here below
Praise Him above ye heavenly host
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
Amen

It was a beautiful experience. The Spirit took our broken, twisted lives (and in some cases, voices) and, just for a moment, put us into harmony.

The thing is, we really need each other. What is evil, I believe, is to look at the rag-tag collection of saints that make up the Church and see only the parts; each imperfect soul on their own, imperfect island. Because when we do that, we invariably start judging. Instead, I think we need to view the Christian community as an impressionist painting, fuzzy so that the lines blur and the colors bleed and together, as a whole, the parts form something remarkable.