by Rev. Kent Ingram, First UMC Colorado Springs
Reserve Delegate to General Conference
I thought I had a new idea. Apparently others have been thinking along this line as well, so this is my contribution to creating a new metaphor for helping understand the role of the church as it relates to the culture and to the world around us. This is specific to our situation in North America; I have no insights into this issue in other places. And I offer this image as a way to move forward into understanding what it means for us to be the church in our time and place.
At one of our recent General Conference delegation meetings one of the laity, as we were discussing the options for restructuring the church, offered the insight that maybe we ought to figure out what we are supposed to be doing before we can figure out how we ought to organize. Makes sense to me! So, in a couple of essays I want to offer the beginning of a conversation about who we are and why we are here, in hopes that it might move us in the direction of how we should be organized.
For a number of years our leaders have been using “exile” as a metaphor of the situation of the church. Their assumption is that we have been removed from our place of prominence in the culture and find ourselves without power and status, much like an exile. Even if that language is not used the numerous charts showing the decline of the church indicate that there was a time when the church was stronger and more powerful, “glory years” of the institution. And implied in all of this is that our goal is get back there. If we can have the same percentage of members and worshipers of the population that we did in the sixties and seventies, then our problems will be over! We need to find ways to be more vital to attract folks back into our churches, then we will no longer be in exile.
What if, however, our “exile” was exactly when we were at our statistical heights? What if those numbers indicate a church in exile a church that has worked hard to accommodate the culture in order to be relevant, a church that has worked to prove its value to the culture so as to retain its power and prestige? Maybe this was a time of, as one of the pastors on staff here refers to it, of “pretend Christianity?” When in exile the exiles work hard to fit in, to blend in, to seem non-offensive so as to not be attacked as different or peculiar. Maybe those were the days of exile, so why would we want to go back there?
To push the biblical metaphor further, we have to remember that before exile there was also an exodus. Both exodus and exile involved a kind of wilderness period after liberation and both were tempting places to which some of the people wanted to return. Both were periods of slavery, but slavery that carried with it a kind of certainty—a sense of security and routine. In Egypt, there was meat. In Babylon, they could raise families and prosper. Leaving behind both Egypt and Babylon was an uncertain thing, but it was also a very necessary thing if they were going to be God’s people—a light to the nations and a city on a hill. The wilderness experience is an imperative for people who have been in either exodus or exile. The wilderness is where the people of faith are formed. Of course, the wilderness is scary. We prefer the comforts of Egypt and the delights of Babylon and we do our best to get back there.
I live in Colorado Springs, perhaps the epicenter of the discussion of how the church ought to relate to the culture. A lot of folks here remember when the church was secure and things were certain. Indeed, we have lots of opinion on how to get back to Egypt! Some have never left, actually, just like many of those exiles never returned from Babylon. We have folks in our denomination who believe we can legislate ourselves back to Egypt and vote our way into cultural relevancy, just like in Babylon. Many others are trying to accommodate ourselves back to Egypt or just keep acting like we’re in Babylon. We mainline folks, apparently, are going to count our way back to Egypt! We’re going to be effective back in Babylon! But why would we want to go back into exile or back to making ecclesiastical bricks again?
Three things happen in the wilderness. First of all, you get out of Egypt, and more importantly you get Egypt out of you. You shake off the culture of Babylon and remember who you are. That’s the second thing that happens out there—you learn your story. The Ten Commandments are given. The people try out the practices of the faith. They narrative that governs your life together is agreed to and lived out. Your stories are rehearsed. You re-member. And thirdly, you get a vision for where you are going, so that you can re-enter the Promised Land and start building something new. What if that is the season we find ourselves in as a church? What if we are ridding ourselves of the vestiges of an accommodated church? What if we are in a season of re-learning our story and committing ourselves to the practices of the faith? What if God is giving us a vision for where we will be when we move from the wilderness?
I can anticipate some of the objections already. This sounds insular, tribal, and inward. Fair enough. But I think that our narrative is one of salt and light, or blessing. I think our practices do involve justice and mercy. But we don’t do these because we want to get people in the church! We do these because we are a sign community of God’s love. But there is something to the fact that we need to learn who we are, we need to know our meta-narrative, and that requires a time of introspection as well.
The biggest problem with this image is that it does not fit the “attractional” models of church growth. Growth, if it happens, is a byproduct of faithfulness, not a goal of the institution. This will scare folks who live in fear and anxiety for the institution. Like the folks in the wilderness, we do not trust God with our tomorrows. We hoard our manna. We fear not having enough, and this fear and anxiety drives all of our decision-making. But it could be a time of freedom and even joy! We could be released from the pressure of trying to get back to the “good old days” of exodus and exile. We can find the power of our symbols, stories, and practices once again. We can focus on loving the world without an agenda to make them one of us. And, in any case, is love with an agenda really love?
If this metaphor works, and I am fully aware that it won’t for many people, then our energies ought to be in reconnecting with our core story, and not accommodating a world to get them in the doors. Vital congregations are those doing the practices and learning the doctrines and blessing the world around them. Growth may follow. Or it may not. But I think people will more likely respond to a church acting out of integrity rather than fear of institutional loss. We’ll see.
One more thing. This insight struck me, floored me actually. No one from Egypt makes into the Promised Land. I won’t get there. I have been in Egypt for a long time. I know how to do church in Egypt really well. I have had “successful” ministries in three conferences. But what I do will not work in the Promised Land. But I can help my congregations learn the story and practices. I can help them rid themselves of vestiges of Egypt. I can remind them that they weren’t meant to live in Babylon. And I can pray that God will raise up the leaders that will move us forward. I think we have them already, if we can free them to do the ministry needed in the wilderness.
This is my two cents worth. I would love to have discussions on this brief synopsis of this metaphor. I have much to learn. And I want to offer one more essay on how I think this affects the working of the church. Frankly, it is too late to make these changes in this Conference. But we can begin a discussion that may move us forward. Thanks for listening!
