Safe But Uncomfortable

Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob...
     who executes justice for the oppressed;
     who gives food to the hungry.
The LORD sets the prisoners free;
     the LORD opens the eyes of the blind.
The LORD lifts up those who are bowed down;
     the LORD loves the righteous.
The LORD watches over the strangers;
     he upholds the orphan and the widow...          

from Psalm 146

I'm reading Rachel Held Evans' book, Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church. Beneath the chapter title, "Dirty Laundry," sits this quote from Walter Brueggemann. "Churches should be the most honest place in town, not the happiest place in town." The chapter describes AA meetings that create fellowship and intimacy and church that the congregations whose buildings they use would love to experience. 

If you've never been to an AA meeting, they feel very different from most church services I've attended. They are usually much more diverse. Rich and poor, lawyers and factory workers, young and old, liberal and conservative, all bound deeply together by a shared disease and a shared way out. "Hi, I'm Joe, and I'm an alcoholic" goes the introduction. No putting the best possible face on it, just brutal honesty that is a crucial step out of a shared brokenness.

As Rachel Held Evans points out, actual churches often look much more like country clubs by comparison. We dress up nice and do our best to look like we have it all together. As a pastor, people let me in on some of their struggles, but only because they know I won't share it with anyone. Quite often, people don't even want me to let others know when their problem is something perfectly respectable such as surgery or an illness. 

Pastors can get caught up in the "country club" mentality. Rare is the pastor who airs the dirty laundry of her faith struggles or his doubts and feelings of inadequacy. After all, we're leaders of this place where we dress nice and do our best to look like we have it all together. 

I've often read accounts of church novices being intimidated by being in the company of all these people who have faith all figured out. They're afraid to ask a question or speak up in a class for fear of being found out. And I've heard more than a few long time church members say that they keep quiet and turn down leadership positions because of similar fears. Never mind how often we've heard that the church is a hospital for sinners, we're all afraid someone might find out we're sick.

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The oppressed, hungry, prisoners, blind folks, those who are bowed down, strangers, orphans, and widows. Psalm 146 lists all of these, along with the righteous, who enjoy God and God's favor. It's a pretty rag tag sounding congregation, made up largely of folks from society's margins, people who would feel out of place at a country club, but maybe not an AA meeting.

The "Dirty Laundry" chapter of Evans' book concludes talking about a very different sort of "church," one called The Refuge. Founded by Kathy Escobar, who left a life of religious success for what she labels "downward mobility," it is rooted in the Beatitudes and AA's twelve steps. It doesn't have creed but it does have this invitation. 

The Refuge is a mission center and Christian community dedicated to helping hurting and hungry people find faith, hope, and dignity alongside each other. 

     We love to throw parties, tell stories, find hope, and practice the ways of Jesus as best we can. 

     We’re all hurt or hungry in our own ways. 

     We’re at different places on our journey but we share a guiding story, a sweeping epic drama called the Bible. 

      We find faith as we follow Jesus and share a willingness to honestly wrestle with God and our questions and doubts. 

      We find dignity as God’s image-bearers and strive to call out that dignity in one another. We all receive, we all give. 

      We are old, young, poor, rich, conservative, liberal, single, married, gay, straight, evangelicals, progressives, overeducated, undereducated, certain, doubting, hurting, thriving. 

      Yet Christ’s love binds our differences together in unity. 

      At The Refuge, everyone is safe, but no one is comfortable.

Rachel Held Evans adds, "Imagine if every church became a place where everyone is safe, but no one is comfortable. Imagine if every church became a place where we told one another the truth. We might just create sanctuary." We just might indeed.

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