When the Church is the center of the universe

In the 16th and 17th century, both Copernicus and Galileo asserted that the earth moved around the sun.  Of course, the church's opinion that the sun revolved around the earth contradicted the scientific facts, and Galileo was placed under house arrest and forbidden to publish any of his research ever again.

Such a historical story serves as a historical and contemporary metaphor as well; namely that the center of the universe is not the earth, but to many, it is the Church.  (of course it really should be Christ, but we all know what it's like to argue with the church at times).

I've touched on this theme previously, that unless our passion and interests are the same as the Church's they don't seem to matter. Yet if the Church were to realize that there is a place of balance, a place where it is as interested in my life as I am in its life, a wonderful balance occurs.

Our individual calling and service may touch upon the programs and mission of our local congregations, but – here's the part the Church as a whole seems to miss – our individual callings most likely will include other interests outside of the Church.

Even our Christ-related activities are church-centered: if someone from the Church wants to meet with us, often they call us to them; we serve in the Church, at the Church, for the Church. For all that time we spend serving, little time is given from the Church to the relationships we need to form in order to belong, to find community – sadly in the context of serving. How well do we know each other, even when we serve together? How well do those who pastor and shepherd the body of Christ really know the members?  To know the people one must get outside the confines of the Church, spend time equipping and knowing and speaking with.  Consider that Jesus spent more time outside of the synagogue than in it.  If you're a pastor – when was the last time you visited any of those who are closely aligned with your ministry either at their home or in their business?

How ironic that in my profession, I can confidently say I belong to and am a member of the business community – but in the Church the same sense of community does not often exist. (especially not in the way Bonhoeffer thought of community) (Boenhoeffer's Life Together)

Community comes from spending time together, getting to know one another in order to share common interests, common passions, common service. It comes from praying together, being authentic with each other, even from disagreeing with each other. We are the people who share the passion for the cause – people who are flawed, who are busy, who are the center of their own lives, no matter how much evidence there is that the earth revolves around the sun.

If we don't feel like we belong, we aren't going to feel like we want to give, to serve, to love.  There is a give and take that must occur – If the Church were to show more interest in its people, they in return will show more interest in the cause.

We want to be like everybody else... just different

"Why does everybody look at me like I'm different?"

An innocent question asked by a young individual, for which the answer doesn't come easily.  Perhaps through clothing that sets them apart (or isolates them), not wearing the Hollister or Abercrombie or American Eagle.  Or because they aren't included among the small groups, preferring to spend time by themselves (by choice or by necessity).  Perhaps because they are awkward in small groups (and larger groups).  Perhaps because they are not like us.

Why different?  And if so, why are we so uncomfortable with an individual's differences that we can't find a way to reach out to them, to include them, to make them feel welcome?

Is it because we think we know better?  In our desire to be loved and accepted, we seek out those who will accept us as we are, because they are like us – and politely avoid those who aren't like us – even though we have the opportunity to give them what we all are seeking: love and acceptance.

Whether it's in a student group, or in our main church services, in small groups, in service opportunities... we all know who I'm talking about.  We avoid them, but they are like the people that Christ reached out to, associated with, welcomed into his presence. 

At some point, we are the outsiders.  Who will reach out to us and include us in their circle?  What happens when we have to ask, "Why do you look at me like I'm different?"

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