A couple of weeks ago the District Superintendent met with about a dozen key leaders of our church; the purpose was to get know the folks of our church and to learn more about who we are as a worshipping body. His first question -- what is unique about your church? The silence was deafening and spoke volumes. Nothing. Finally
I disturbed the thoughts of all present (of course I did, you all know how much I hate silence!). 'We
used to be a church for the broken' I began, 'I mean a place where the broken could come and know they were accepted as they are, where they are, and who they are. But we aren't that any more.' I nearly whispered the final statement. A few near me agreed.
Since that Sunday evening I have thought a lot about that question and not just that question but an even broader question. What
is church? Based on my gut and visions this is
my response:
Church is -
- broken people, led by a very broken person, living in a broken world whose mission is to go into the broken society to meet broken people where they are to bring them home.
That simple.
So, then what is the difference between the broken people who commune together once a week and the broken people who don't?
- the broken people who gather weekly in a church building are redeemed through Christ Jesus and brought into Wholeness with God through the indwelling Holy Spirit who is our voice, our guide, and our conscience.
We are still broken, just as broken, some even more broken. But we know who we are and whose we are. We are where we belong. We are home.
Our job now is to go
into the broken world,
onto the streets of our broken society, and
meet with the broken
where they are. The prostitute on the corner, the drug addict in the alley, the alcoholic stumbling out of the bar, the abused in the shelter, the abuser in prison. We are to meet them there and love them
as they are,
where they are, for
who they are. We are then to bring them into the family of the redeemed and journey with them on the road to who they are to become...we are to bring them home.
It sounds all so obvious, so simplistic and so utterly difficult.
We used to be that church.
We used to be those people.
- we were once led by a minister who understood brokenness, who would speak of that brokenness fearlessly and willingly from the pulpit.
- we were once led by a minister who was never embarrassed to sit with the homeless, drink coffee with them, and then walk across the street and up the road to where they bedded at night.
- we were once led by a minister who went into the bars and spoke with those who were drowning their fears and sorrows in too much liquor.
- we were once led by a minister who would walk with the down-trodden, the depressed, the addict, the accursed and the abused and would bring them home.
We aren't any longer.
We used to be unique...but not any more.
Jeff Cannon...for all of your foibles there are ten times the fortes. You are a blessing. You are missed.
I just wanted you to know that. From God...through me...to you. You
are a blessing Jeff Cannon and you
are loved!