After dining alone I'm home alone ...
9 645.65 kilometres away. That's how far GoogleEarth says it is from the front door of my house to the chair I'm sitting in. There's a couch in front of me, other chairs all around, and the chatter of inner city residents. I'm visiting a church, and I feel more at home here than I do in my church back home. Why is that? This church is not perfect - there are technical glitches, the sound is a too reverberant for my taste, the roof has damage, it has all the signs of wear and tear from being actively lived in - like a family home its where normal people with a common connection gather without pretence. Here today its the young (mostly) and old, male and female, black and white, the well-dressed and the shabby, all mixed together. Real people who've come in from the streets and brought it all with them: not to be conformed by the church, but to be the church. The reason I feel at home is because of this. Let me explain. For a visitor this service has the potential to be very awkward; not only am I a stranger to them, but they're having their annual focus on giving – if there's ever a source of embarrassment in church, its when they start talking about money. But I don't feel awkward. The singing is simple and clear, encouraging reflection on a few key thoughts (quite unlike some hymns of yesteryear which try to pack a seminary’s worth of odd theology into 6 verses without repeats). The talk is based on Jesus' story of the man who went travelling and left three of his employees with the task of managing large sums of his money. These were not trivial amounts; to one he entrusted the equivalent of 100 years of a typical labourer’s daily wage! To another he gave 40 years equivalent, and to a third he gave 20 years worth. Does the absolute amount really matter? Not really, but because we are people so irrationally impressed by big numbers, I think its worth pointing out that for the recipients this must have been a fearful responsibility. The real question is, what did they do? The one with 20 years worth of wages quite understandably took the low risk option, he hid it. I might well have done the same. In today’s world I guess that would be like depositing the money in a bank account where it only earns inflationary interest in order to preserve the capital. But the other two, now they took risks: they understood that not only had they been given charge of a resource, but that handling resources comes with a great responsibility. So these two managed the money! In today’s world I imagine one might have invested in property, the other possibly started a business – but in time both doubled their initial capital outlay. They took risks … it must have been scary … ! It required courage to accept a responsibility and not shirk from risk! They engaged in good risk management, not risk avoidance. Imagine if you had custody of a million dollars, and you took a risk knowing you were accountable for the outcome! In due course the owner returned from his travels, and the employees submitted their reports. Two were highly commended and invited to share in the benefits (a performance bonus?). The other was soundly criticised – hauled over the coals and then fired may be a better description. He had simply not understood the core business and lacked the necessary courage – he was scared, and he did not trust his employer. It is not about how much you have at the start, nor about how much you have in the end, its all about whether you do anything. Do I run from risk, or do I understand the trust that had been placed in me? This is why I felt at home in this church, for homes are places of trust that allows us to take risks … what an amazing combination that is, trust and risk. I took a big risk when I married (and it was an even bigger risk to marry me). We risked together; we knew we would change for we all grow into different people. We could have ended up fighting, divorcing, or worse. But with work, with thoughtful risk management, and with trust in the rightness of a shared purpose, our investment of who we were and what we had brought change, growth, peace, sanctuary and joy; the investment built a home. This is why I want to join this church I'm visiting. Their attitude, albeit imperfectly expressed, tries to be one where they are partners together in the grandest of adventures, and this makes it feel like community, a home. Resources are contributed by each to be used for a purpose that is far bigger that any one person can imagine. This is the expressed desire by this imperfect church, for as they themselves proclaim:
Soon I will head for another plane, and there are church events awaiting me when I return. Will they require courage and risk? Am I headed “home”?
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Why?
Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
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