Thinking About Church in an Indian Restaurant
I have my faults. Who doesn’t? Today was one of those times when you wonder what the right thing to do is, and as you debate what to do, you know you’re not going to do what you should, and so you see yourself about to do the wrong thing, but you’re set on doing it because it’s easier and not because it’s right, and off you go down the easy path that leads to hell. So there I was today, in hell, at the local Indian restaurant.
A parent of one of my youth wanted to take me to lunch as a thank you/I’m sorry because she was late picking up her daughter after a training session. We were unable to meet last week, so the lunch was set for today. I thought she was going to call yesterday to confirm the time and location, but she didn’t. I was pretty sure about the time and place we discussed last week, and I was sure she wouldn’t forget. But, maybe she would, and since I really didn’t want to go to lunch anyway, there was no way I was calling her to confirm. That would only mean we would definitely have lunch. So, instead of taking the time to call and confirm a free lunch, I would go to the restaurant, wait, and see if she forgot (which I was hoping she would).
I arrived at the restaurant promptly at noon, sat near the entrance, and waited. I would give her thirty minutes. Certainly she would call me if something came up and we needed to reschedule again. Maybe she would walk in the door as scheduled. Maybe she had forgotten and we would never speak again. Whatever happened, I was ready to eat a free Indian buffet or waste thirty minutes. What I did not want to do was make a three-minute phone call and guarantee my free meal, wasting no time and covering all of my bases. Instead, I took the easy, non-awkward way, and left after sitting for half an hour.
As I sat there, knowing I had done the stupid thing, I thought about church and the search for authentic community. Often, we would rather go where we know we don’t want to be instead of doing what is necessary to get where we belong. As I sat waiting, I saw all of the richness of humanity that is ignored by TV commercials and magazine ads. Passing by me were people who were overweight, who had moles and bad haircuts, and who weren’t shaped like anything symmetric. I’m sure their emotional and spiritual baggage was heavier than my own conscience was at that point; I couldn’t read their minds or see into their souls. But, around that Indian buffet, they all belonged. They all had a place to sit, a place to eat, and a place to go. Out of everyone in that restaurant, I was the one that didn’t belong, and it wasn’t because of the clothes I was wearing, what was in my bank account, or what I looked like. It was because I wasn’t being real.
What people are searching for today is a place to belong, a place where they can be themselves, and a place that encourages them to be what they were made to be. Sadly, very few of our churches allow for this kind of space. While the reasons people can’t find such a church are myriad, one possible solution is that more of churches need to be like Indian restaurants, offering all who want to dine a place at the table. Instead of forcing people to fit in, allowing people to be themselves is not only healthier, but holier. What is needed is a kind of church that embraces our diversity and unifies our humanity.
As I sat checking the door to see who would walk in, I thought of all the times I drove to churches I knew I wouldn’t like. I thought of all the times I wanted to leave a Sunday service mid-sermon. I thought of all those times I discounted others’ points of view because they were different than mine. And I thought of all those times I should have sat and watched instead of sat and sulked. And I was sorry I hadn’t done my part to create an inclusive, celebratory community that mirrors the potluck band of disciples Jesus ran with so long ago.
After I left, I went to my office and checked my voicemail. Left yesterday afternoon was the message: “Sam, I was wondering if we could do lunch tomorrow at 11. Call me.” Talk about your all time bummer of a situation. A simple check of the voicemail, a simple confirmation phone call, or a simple invitation to the table would have made my day much more productive. Instead, I went somewhere I didn’t want to, wasted more time than I should have, and wondered what the heck happened. Feelings like mine today personify the church search for countless people my age. Here’s to hoping they can find their seat at the table, and here’s to hoping we start building the restaurant.
A parent of one of my youth wanted to take me to lunch as a thank you/I’m sorry because she was late picking up her daughter after a training session. We were unable to meet last week, so the lunch was set for today. I thought she was going to call yesterday to confirm the time and location, but she didn’t. I was pretty sure about the time and place we discussed last week, and I was sure she wouldn’t forget. But, maybe she would, and since I really didn’t want to go to lunch anyway, there was no way I was calling her to confirm. That would only mean we would definitely have lunch. So, instead of taking the time to call and confirm a free lunch, I would go to the restaurant, wait, and see if she forgot (which I was hoping she would).
I arrived at the restaurant promptly at noon, sat near the entrance, and waited. I would give her thirty minutes. Certainly she would call me if something came up and we needed to reschedule again. Maybe she would walk in the door as scheduled. Maybe she had forgotten and we would never speak again. Whatever happened, I was ready to eat a free Indian buffet or waste thirty minutes. What I did not want to do was make a three-minute phone call and guarantee my free meal, wasting no time and covering all of my bases. Instead, I took the easy, non-awkward way, and left after sitting for half an hour.
As I sat there, knowing I had done the stupid thing, I thought about church and the search for authentic community. Often, we would rather go where we know we don’t want to be instead of doing what is necessary to get where we belong. As I sat waiting, I saw all of the richness of humanity that is ignored by TV commercials and magazine ads. Passing by me were people who were overweight, who had moles and bad haircuts, and who weren’t shaped like anything symmetric. I’m sure their emotional and spiritual baggage was heavier than my own conscience was at that point; I couldn’t read their minds or see into their souls. But, around that Indian buffet, they all belonged. They all had a place to sit, a place to eat, and a place to go. Out of everyone in that restaurant, I was the one that didn’t belong, and it wasn’t because of the clothes I was wearing, what was in my bank account, or what I looked like. It was because I wasn’t being real.
What people are searching for today is a place to belong, a place where they can be themselves, and a place that encourages them to be what they were made to be. Sadly, very few of our churches allow for this kind of space. While the reasons people can’t find such a church are myriad, one possible solution is that more of churches need to be like Indian restaurants, offering all who want to dine a place at the table. Instead of forcing people to fit in, allowing people to be themselves is not only healthier, but holier. What is needed is a kind of church that embraces our diversity and unifies our humanity.
As I sat checking the door to see who would walk in, I thought of all the times I drove to churches I knew I wouldn’t like. I thought of all the times I wanted to leave a Sunday service mid-sermon. I thought of all those times I discounted others’ points of view because they were different than mine. And I thought of all those times I should have sat and watched instead of sat and sulked. And I was sorry I hadn’t done my part to create an inclusive, celebratory community that mirrors the potluck band of disciples Jesus ran with so long ago.
After I left, I went to my office and checked my voicemail. Left yesterday afternoon was the message: “Sam, I was wondering if we could do lunch tomorrow at 11. Call me.” Talk about your all time bummer of a situation. A simple check of the voicemail, a simple confirmation phone call, or a simple invitation to the table would have made my day much more productive. Instead, I went somewhere I didn’t want to, wasted more time than I should have, and wondered what the heck happened. Feelings like mine today personify the church search for countless people my age. Here’s to hoping they can find their seat at the table, and here’s to hoping we start building the restaurant.
|
Comments (0)
Post a Comment