Lie #6 – Our Service Is Services
from Helena Sorensen Aman:
Lie #6: “The church’s greatest concern—and the world’s greatest need—is church services.”
It would be silly of me to say that nothing beautiful, valuable, or meaningful happens in church services. I’ve attended (and served in) thousands upon thousands of church services in my forty-one years, and I have found hope, inspiration, encouragement, friendship, joy…… The list is extensive. But you know all that. You know the positives because of your own experience and because of the host of ever-present Christians urging you to attend and volunteer.
A young man recently felt a stirring in his heart to help others in some way. (This is a true story). He went to a local church and asked how he could serve his community. With great enthusiasm, having never met him, they signed him up to work in Children’s Church.
You knew that was coming, didn’t you?
Which brings us back to the issue of stated vs. unspoken reality. The stated reality (of Evangelical Christianity, certainly, but of much of Christianity, period) is that we are going out into the world with good news, and perhaps with some offering of kindness or charity to demonstrate the goodness of our message. The unspoken reality is that virtually all resources are funneled toward a weekly production that we’re compelled to drag people into, so that they can be as thoroughly indoctrinated as us. And so that they can tithe (to pay for the building and the staff salaries so that we can pull off this weekly production) and so that they can volunteer (to help us with the weekly production). It’s a cycle that dehumanizes everyone, from the “first-time visitor” to the most well-intentioned pastor.
(Note: For most of my life, this was a thrice-weekly production.)
I find myself sighing as I write. I’m remembering the tight, tense feeling of guilt and obligation that comes with church involvement. (Because the Beast is never satisfied.) I’m thinking, too, of the staggering number of hours, the fortune in energy and creativity, that I have given to the church over the years. If I could get it all back (or even a fragment of it), I’d play with my children at the park. I’d sleep in. I’d linger over meals with friends and neighbors. I’d volunteer at a shelter or a soup kitchen.
But I can’t get any of it back. They told me there was no other way for a Christian to spend her life, and I believed them.
