The Church Hit My Head. Idol Worship, Elections, and Hurt

Sunday morning I prepared my head and my heart to preach.  It was the Sunday after the election, a time that confirmed everything that I feared and busted all that I had hoped.  I wanted to be God's instrument that day.  To speak the good news in the wilderness.  To share God's light for a people living in darkness hoping to see that sacred light.  I followed my normal routine, the running around with chaotic purpose, waiting for the clock to strike 9:45, and it happened.  The church hit my head.  Literally.  Out of instinct I tried to skip down some stairs that separate the pulpit for the adjacent hallway, and my head did not clear the wooden beam of the doorway.  POW.  I hit the ground, laughed at my stupidity, and tried to carry on like normal.  Except I wasn't normal.  My head hurt.  My stomach hurt.  I led worship, preached, limped along, and 24 hours later it's more of the same.  Nothing has changed.  My head still hurts.  It hurts for different reasons today; today I wonder, ponder, struggle with a deeper hurt that I've kept buried for a good week now.  There are hard truths that I need to accept, and I'm willing to do so now that I've been knocked off my perch and have been humbled, once again.  My head hurts.

The hard truth is that I feel like a stranger inside the church.  It's a place that once gave me hope, made me feel valued, wanted.  For a semi-depressed introverted teenager this was the embodiment of God's grace.  This experience has taught me how to be painfully empathetic toward those people whom Christ calls the "least of these."  I see them everyday.  The poor.  The homeless.  Lonely teens.  Vulnerable children.  White.  Black.  Hispanic.  Young.  Old.  Gay.  Straight.  And now as a father to an autistic boy I feel hurts to the point of making me nauseous when I see deep pains in peoples.  I mean, dear God, these are the people who need to SEE and HEAR and KNOW that the church has a home for them, that it's a place where they are welcome and loved.  And what have I seen?  A church who would shut the door in their faces.  It's a place that would build walls to keep them out, who would ignore their pain if only to selfishly focus on their own.  Instead of confronting the world and our broken nation, the church has mirrored it.  As I look at the church, I see a sea of hypocrites; people wearing smiling masks but hiding faces of anger and fear and mistrust.  And then I'm handed a mask too.  Best to put it on, or be an outcast.  Wearing one or not the result is the same; I'm a stranger in an land I thought I knew but truly never did.  My head hurts.

What happened?  How did it happen?  When did the church lose it's voice, it's hope, it's optimism, it's calling?  This happened because we have failed as a nation and in big ways as a church in regards to the 2nd commandment; you shall have no other gods before ME.  Idolatry is poisoning our hearts faster than we would admit.  We have a wretched collection of idols today.  Politics is an idol.  The "American Dream" is an idol.  Wealth is an idol.  Our culture is an idol.  Our weapons are an idol.  Our fear becomes an idol.  Our social media feeds is an idol.  Our fears and anxieties become an idol.  When we worship an idol, a false god, pay attention to the cost.  Idols require tribute, offerings of your time, your tithing, and your allegiance, at the expense of everything else.  We worship these idols expecting a return; usually in the form of security and acceptance.  The price we pay for empowering these idols has become abundantly clear.  As a society, as a country, as a community, and as families, we have broken.  Hard.  Us vs them.  We are broken, and breaking the pieces further, and we treat the brokenness as righteousness.  Now brokenness is evidence of how right I am and how stupid you are.  It's kind of like the chicken and the egg, which came first?  Did this pathetic election create the brokenness or simply expose it.  Yes.  And yes.  We were already drifting and were driven into our tribal/regional corners (urban vs rural).  Also this election counted on us to rely on these inner fears and anxiety to control our thinking, and it has worked (regardless of who would win).  Seriously, if I hear one more pathetic political ad or speech warn us about dangerous sex offenders I just might scream.  (This was a staple of NC TV ads.  Just note, negative political ads are produced only because they work.  Congratulations, here's your new idol to put up on the altar of your heart).  My head hurts.

This brokenness, this love of idols is only possible because of our lack of faith.  Jesus says "Feed my sheep."  Only after I feed myself or my family, then I'll look for leftovers in my pantry.  Jesus says "Love your enemies."  Only after we secure our borders and bomb the hell out of whoever is our enemy will I feel safe to love.  Jesus says "Love your neighbor as yourself."  Only after I craft my social media following to only include like-minded individuals whom I want to be my neighbors.  Jesus ate with sinners.  Only after we make sure these sinners won't steal our stuff will I feel comfortable in sitting down with them.  You think God would be proud of our choices?  People have become so freaked out I doubt they really care.  So long as we're nice, so long as following the shepherd is about being nice, we're good.  Because Jesus was nice.  My head hurts again.  These idols are hitting my head again.

Here's the thing; people whom I deeply love are beyond excited about this election's outcome and cannot hide their glee in reckless abandon.  I don't know how to talk to them, to love them or warn them, especially when I feel like a stranger in their midst.  People whom I deeply love are frightened, deeply and terribly frightened about this election's outcome.  I don't know how to talk to them either, to love them or warn them, especially when I feel like a stranger in their midst too.  The first group is told they're bigots and racists.  The second group is told they're lazy and spoiled.  Both sides are screaming at each other that all of this brokenness is the other's fault.  Implicitly I'm being told to chose who to love, and that's a terrible choice to make.  I'm a referee trying to keep two scrimmage teams from killing each other with only a whistle as my tool, begging, screaming at them to shut up.  They don't realize they're on the same freaking team!  My head hurts.

I guess I know what the third choice is, the right choice, and that's the church.  Back to where it all started.  It's the only place where sinners can sit at the Lord's table regardless of worth.  It's not an earned seat, it's been paid for by the blood of Christ.  You, me, we are ALL welcome.  It's the only place where the lame can walk and the blind can see.  Maybe that's where my despair comes from.  It's very place where I expect to find grace and instead I find the messed up world breaking in, tricking the church into embracing it's brokenness like its holiness.  It's the very place where the least among us is offered an open seat at the Lord's Table only to find a locked door, or a newly erected wall.  It's the very place where I seek to see God's face, a lowly person such as I, only to find it cozying itself up with the high and the powerful because it doesn't trust God.  I'm a stranger in the place I thought was home.  My head hurts.

Many colleagues in ministry are quoting Romans 12 nonstop, and it's very good and worth reading.  But it's not the scripture that keeps poking me in the head, hurting my head.  It's Matthew 12: 33-37.  Jesus loves everyone, right?  He loves the Pharisees, right?  With this in mind, here's what he said to them, "“Either make the tree good, and its fruit good; or make the tree bad, and its fruit bad; for the tree is known by its fruit. You brood of vipers! How can you speak good things, when you are evil? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. The good person brings good things out of a good treasure, and the evil person brings evil things out of an evil treasure. I tell you, on the day of judgment you will have to give an account for every careless word you utter; for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.”

You brood of vipers.  I mean, wow.  Can I, a pastor, tell it's people you are a brood of vipers?  If I do, I'm obviously against "them" and for the "other side."  Already my message will be twisted before the words leave my lips.  So much for the nice Jesus.  That's where I am hung up.  Can I tell a broken and messed up church that its worshiping idols and not God?  Words are powerful, but I fear they've been neutered unless they prey on our inner demons, especially our idols of self love and vanity.  The prophetic words has lost its volume.  My head hurts.

So I look back at my younger self, the quiet scared teen who longed for friendship, to be valued, to be loved, and dang it I want to give him a hug.  Forget words, I'll stand with you.  I see those bullies and their raging toward you, but don't you worry.  I got your back.  They will have to get through me first.  I look the world now and see people who share the broken spirit of my younger self; the poor, the homeless, lonely teens, vulnerable children, young, old, white, black, Hispanic, gay, straight.  They're scared to death and fear the next day (read Matthew 6: 34 if that's you).  These people need me.  They need Jesus.  They need a church that's acting like the church!  I cannot and will not stand aside and let them get run over by the broken messed up world.  So hear me now; if you are vulnerable, or feel vulnerable, or scared, or lonely, I got your back.  Jesus had mine and still does, therefore I got you too.  If anyone is powering over you, please know you are not alone and their power is not eternal.  God is eternal.  He stands with you, so I stand with you too.  In the church. you are welcome.  Period.  Note, my head still hurts...

Also, and even more so, I'm going to keep loving, even though it hurts my head.  I'm going to love the church, love it so hard to make it better, with God's help.  Only with God's help.  I'm going to love the vulnerable, the helpless, the hurt, because I've been there and their journey should not and will not be walked alone.  And I'm going to love the idol worshipers, all of them.  I'm going to love them because Jesus does too.  And if that means I have to call them a brood of vipers, I will do so completely out of God's love and not in obedience to my own idol (because my idol says I should be silent, complicit, and avoid conflict).  And when you're weary, tired, beat down, I'll be beaten down with you.  Together we will find our way to the church.  There the doors are open.  There's a seat for us both.  Jesus is hosting the meal.  We will be welcome, all of us.  My head hurts, but now I can think more clearly.

I pray the passion in my heart burns strong when idolatry threatens to quench it, and that my head doesn't stop hurting until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream (Amos 5: 24)."