Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Forgotten God

The ugly side of church

A radio station in our area is running a promotion called “The Ugly Side of Church.” I heard the advertisement for the first time tonight and, at first, thought, “Wow. What a great idea.” Then I realized it was like “Extreme  Makeover: Church Edition.” The premise is to submit a picture of an ugly room at church and win a chance to have the room made over.

I get it. We’ve been at churches with rooms in dire need of improvement and no resources — manpower or money — to fix them.

But I was more excited when I thought it was a chance for authenticity. A chance to acknowledge that sometimes the church, the Bride of Christ, has some warts.

I don’t want to make this a church-bashing post. I feel like I do that far more than is healthy. Francis Chan, in his book “Forgotten God,” asks this question: “How much do you love the church?” I struggled with that question: do I love the church too much and therefore long to see her be all that she’s destined to be, or do I not love her enough to see past her faults and look at the good she does?

I’m still not sure of the answer.

But I’m tired of putting my best face forward. I’m actually not that good at it. When I’m upset, I have a hard time hiding it, even when I want to. This past week at church, I was tired from the 14-hour day on the road on Saturday, and emotionally drained from a tough but rewarding week with family. Corban was overtired and fussy and hard to put to sleep. I thought I could just get through the day unnoticed. Turns out someone noticed.

How many other Sundays am I struggling with something and able to hide it so that no one notices?

That’s just a start to my ugliness. And I’m just one person in the church. Tell me I’m not the only one who hides behind a made-up mask of perceived perfection.

I have seen the church do beautiful work. I have met her beautiful saints. I see her potential to radiate God’s love in a dark world.

But the truth is, the church DOES have an ugly side, and that too often is what the world sees and remembers.

I was challenged a couple of weeks ago by this quote from our Beth Moore Bible study: “When, because of your faith, your life too becomes perceptibly different; when your reactions are quite opposite to what the situation seems to call for and your activities can no longer be explained in terms of your personality; that is when your neighborhood will sit up and take notice. In the eyes of the world, it is not our relationship with Jesus Christ that counts; it is our resemblance to him!” — “The Queen and I” by Ray Stedman (emphasis mine).

Lately, I’m convicted at how little I resemble Christ to the world. There’s an ugly side to me, and maybe there always will be to some extent, but I’m desperate for God to work in me in such a way that the ugliness diminishes day by day.

We were reminded tonight at Bible study that God makes everything beautiful in its time. That’s true for me and for His church.

Maybe “Extreme Makeover: Church Edition” isn’t such a bad idea after all. But the church needs more than a fresh coat of paint or new carpet. She needs a change of heart, a return to her first love, a revival of the Spirit’s leading.

I don’t know when or how it will happen, but, man, will it be beautiful.

Ugly’s had its day. Time for a facelift.

A funny thing happened on the way to Bible study

Fact: Our church’s women’s Bible study meets on Tuesday nights.

Fact: I usually attend these meetings.

Fact: It is finals week for my seminarian husband.

Fact: I am currently reading a book called “Forgotten God” by Francis Chan.

Fact: I am utterly clueless when it comes to understanding the Holy Spirit’s leading.

Scenario: It is Tuesday, a cold, bitter, sunless pre-winter day. I am typically exhausted from chasing kids all morning and overwhelmed by the condition of my house. I also miss spending time with my husband. We call these days the zombie days. He is here, present in the house, but not exactly “with us” if you know what I mean. He is reading about theological things I can’t spell or pronounce, formulating 10-page papers in his head. I am tempted to skip Bible study this night to have more time with him when he gets home from work. Before he leaves for work, he agrees and doesn’t try to talk me out of skipping. My mind is nearly made up to stay home.

The kids and I start playing. Isabelle’s current favorite game is “parade” where she pretends she’s in one and throws “candy” to Corban and me, sitting on a blanket on the other side of the room. The “candy” is often stuffed animals  or bouncy balls. The rule is: only throw soft things. For good reason. So, we’re playing, and I’m thinking about what to have for dinner when this feeling comes over me. Have you ever had one of those? It sort of wells up from somewhere inside me and nags at  my heart. I don’t panic, exactly, but it’s a feeling I can’t ignore. And all of a sudden, I feel like I MUST go to Bible study tonight. My first question is: why? And then my mind starts to wander down dark paths. Am I supposed to go because something is supposed to happen to me tonight? Am I going to be in a car wreck? Or maybe I’m supposed to leave the house because something’s going to happen here? And I freak out about the house possibly burning down in my absence. Or maybe I just need to help someone. Or, or, or …

I can’t shut it off, and I can’t ignore the pressing feeling that I need to go to Bible study. I can’t call my husband and tell him that plans have changed, so I just prepare for plans to change. We eat supper. The kids get their jammies on. They are, as usual, as ready for bed as I can get them before I leave the house. Now, I wait on my husband to get home from work. He walks in the door. I tell him how I feel. He immediately tells me that he didn’t eat at work. We talk a little more and he lets me make the decision, telling me he can handle himself and the kids while I’m gone.

I’m somewhat scared. But I can’t ignore the tug. I’m going. Shoes, coat, purse, book, kisses and hugs, and I’m off. Slightly excited. Somewhat anticipatory. My eyes scan the road and sidewalk, looking for a sign from God of why I felt compelled to leave the house when earlier I was set on staying home. I drive, and my heart catches in my throat with every car that passes. I’m driving, I’m looking, I’m seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

I arrive safely at Bible study. We have a good discussion. I can’t stop eating the Cheez-Its sitting in front of me. I drive home, still with alert eyes to what God might have had in mind for the evening. At home, everything is as it should be. The kids are safely and soundly in bed. My husband is finally eating his supper. “Biggest Loser” is about to come on.

“I have no idea why I needed to leave the house,” I tell my husband.

Then I think about it, and I wonder. This book I’m reading, “Forgotten God,” is all about being more aware of and obedient to the Holy Spirit, the so-called “forgotten” person of the Trinity. I’m about halfway through the book, and I’ve been challenged throughout. Was this another challenge? A test of obedience, of sorts? Would I obey the Spirit’s leading, even if I didn’t understand why, if I had no inkling of the reason, if it didn’t make sense? This is often how the Spirit works, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of leading and tug. At least a long time since I’ve felt it and acted on it.

Maybe that was the whole purpose. Maybe it’s something I don’t know about. I’m tempted to say it was nothing, just my imagination. Maybe you’re tempted to say that, too. But I’m convinced that it wasn’t.

I am too easily led by my own whims, desires and wants, so I welcome the Spirit’s resurgence in my life to lead me in ways I couldn’t imagine. I looked at the world around me in a new way that night, eager and expectant for God to show me where He was working and how I could be a part of it.

May it be so every day of my life.