Going Solo

run in the park

From People Grumble but Angels Sing!

This Sunday, we have a choice to make. We could make the choice with the majority of Americans to stay home and experience God on our back porches or patios with a cup of coffee or during a morning run or during walk in the park.  Or we could make the difficult decision to get up, get dressed and drive to a place of worship.  And there, we may sit beside people with whom we could not disagree more. We may sit beside folks who press our buttons, even drive us crazy.

In a recent interview, Rev. Lillian Daniel, pastor of First Congregational Church from Glen Ellyn, Illinois, has said: “Any idiot can find God alone in the sunset. It takes a certain maturity to find God in the person sitting next to you who not only voted for the wrong political party, but has a baby who is crying while you are trying to listen to the sermon. “Community,” she says, “is where the religious rubber meets the road. People challenge us, ask the hard questions, disagree, need things from us, require our forgiveness. It’s where we get to practice all the things we preach.”

She continues: “I think a lot of those who can’t tolerate organized religion are really just frustrated by other people. They think, ‘If they could just kick all of the flawed human beings out of the church, we could really do this Jesus thing. Better do my spiritual life solo, where I don’t have to be disturbed by the amateurs.”

I have a confession to make. During my break from pastoral ministry, I often felt the temptation to go solo with my faith. I would go for a Sunday morning run along the Tar River in Greenville. There, I would pray and enjoy being alive in God’s creation, and think to myself, “This is the way to do church! There is no one to disagree with me. There is no one sharing their problems with me, making me uncomfortable, and taking up my time. And I must confess, it was rather nice!

However, I must also confess it was very selfish. It was arrogant, and it was self-righteous. The truth is: it was the very antithesis of who Jesus calls us to be as his disciples.

Jesus in Vegas

Fallen Las Vegas Police Officer David Vanbuskirk laid to rest – www.ktnv.com.

From The Least of These or the Exalted of Us

Traveling across the country for business these last three years has taught me much about the local church and why so many people do not attend church and have all but given up on organized religion.  And I don’t believe it is because they have given up on Jesus.

This summer, one of my business trips landed me in the heart of Las Vegas, the city that people say represents everything selfish, greedy and depraved that is within us. Early one morning, I went for a run on the Las Vegas strip. The streets were already crowded with people. Some were shopping. Some were on their way to another casino. And others were on their way to do who knows what to fulfill their most indulgent, selfish desires.

As I ran, I noticed that the electronic billboards along the strip changed all at once. They each displayed a picture of a young man with words that read, “David Vanbuskirk. 1977-2013. Las Vegas Police Search and Rescue Officer. I later read that Vanbuskirk died while rescuing a hiker stranded in an off-limits area of a mountain northwest of Las Vegas when he fell from a helicopter hoist line.

I ran a few more blocks when I noticed that people walking up and down the busy sidewalks began to stop and peer down the street that was suddenly empty of traffic. The entire Las Vegas strip, which just a few seconds earlier was booming with the sounds of automobiles and of people enjoying themselves, became profoundly silent. Men began to remove their hats. A woman covered her heart with her hand. A little boy, sitting on his father’s shoulders, saluted. I stopped running. And with everyone else, my eyes turned toward the street where we watched and listened as a very long police motorcycle motorcade, at least fifty bikes in pairs, produced the only sound on the hushed strip. The motorcade was followed by a white police pick-up truck, lights flashing, in the back, a flag-draped casket.

After the processional, people remained silent and still for several more minutes. Some bowed their heads, obviously in prayer. Others were wiping tears from their eyes. Others embraced their loved ones who were beside them.

I believe there is something within all of us, deep within our most selfish, indulgent and decadent selves, even in the heart of sin city, that yearns to associate with those who love others more than self, with those who humbly, courageously and sacrificially serve, expecting absolutely nothing in return.

And I believe there is something within even the most devout church cynic, even within the ones who have all but given up on organized religion, that desires to be more like Jesus. And I believe they are still hoping that somewhere, somehow, someway, a church exists in this broken world that looks and acts more like Jesus serving others, than like a country club filled with the pure and self-righteous judging others.