dare

I don't really believe in omens, or signs, or any of that superstitious stuff... However, I do find it interesting that the one topic I cannot seem to get a grasp on and have been avoiding for about 2 years, has raised its head in a few interesting and significant ways this week.

The topic: Church.

My friend Joshua started a photographic community on his blog. How it works is that he comes up with some sort of topic, and then asks his readers to send him pictures that follow the chosen theme. His most recent theme was "I am the church." He is in the process of preparing a sermon about the church, and what exactly "the church" is. He writes, "I am the church. You are the church. The people are the church. The building is not the church. The music style isn't the church. The doughnuts and coffee aren't the church. We don't go to church. We are the church. We are the hands and feet of Christ." Many of his readers are from different countries, so he asked for people to submit their photos with the phrase "I am the church" in their native tongue. Pretty sweet, if you ask me.

I had missed the first photo community opportunity, and did not want to miss submitting something for this one. However, here's the irony of it all...

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to attend Epikos. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Milwaukee, or do not know what Epikos is, it's a church plant (through the Baptist General Conference) on the East Side of Milwaukee. It meets right in the heart of UWM town, and is surrounded by the "artsy" folk. I have been to this church gathering quite a few times in the past, and haven't really felt as "connected" as I would have hoped. However, I also never really gave it much of a chance. After a service a couple of weeks ago, I felt really challenged about how I so quickly brushed it off. What you must know about Epikos is, it feels VERY similar to another community I was a part of - a community that fell apart at the seams and was really hard to watch collapse. I didn't and am still not sure I want to be a part of something that feels so similar to that. However, I felt that comparison was really unfair to the Epikos community, as well as the pastor, and so I sent an email to Danny - the pastor of Epikos, apologizing for my "write-off."

Danny and I decided to meet up for coffe to discuss "my journey." While it felt a bit like a psychiatric visit, it was also really good for me to talk about my experiences in ministry, and my frustrations with "the church." I explained to him how my head and my heart have been mutilated by the things "the church" has done not only to me, but more so to other people whom I love very much. It has been incredibly hard for me to see "the church" as the bride of Christ - something that is loved and cherished by God. However, as I talked with Danny, I realized I had a lot to work through, and I had to realize that I can no longer look at "them" and say "the church" as if I'm somehow not a part of it. If I am a Christ-follower, that means I am a part of the collective "church." I cannot seperate myself from it.

As I was setting up some stuff to work on for this photo project of Joshua's, I struggled with whether or not I should even do it. Do I really believe the picture I am creating? Do I really believe that I am the church? And can I really have such anger and frustration with the people we call "church," when I myself am just as much a part of it as the next person? As I looked through the pictures I took, I really had to think long and hard about how I felt, and whether or not I could stand behind the statement "I am the church."

Then, as I was driving home today, I had an interesting experience. For those of you who know me, you know that I absolutely LOVE lightning. For whatever reason, I feel really close to God when I'm amidst a storm, and today I drove home through a pretty ugly one. Lightning and thunder, sleet and snow... It was nasty. But for some reason, I felt really close to God. Here's where we come to the "I don't believe in omens" part. I really don't believe in them, I promise, but this struck me as interesting...

I had my iPod on shuffle, and the song "Dare You to Move" by Switchfoot came on. Now, I've heard that song a thousand times before. The radio stations here played it until the public finally cried "Uncle!" But tonight, I was struck with the lines of the chorus: "I dare you to move/ I dare you to move/ I dare you pick yourself up off the floor." In those words, in that moment, I felt such a strong sense that I simply need to move. I need to take that risk again, and invest in the beauty (and at times, ugliness) of those around me - the church. I need to risk the hurt, the pain, and everything ugly that comes with a bunch of broken people. I need to lean on them, and let them lean on me, even if it means at one point, we let the other one fall.

My brother once made an interesting comment to me. He said, "God can't steer the car if it's in park." Now granted, I'm not making a statement about the sovereignty of God. If he really wanted the parked car to move, he could totally do it. However, I love the idea behind his statement. God can't direct me/guide me if I'm not even moving.

I dare you to move.

I dare you to love my church again.

I dare you to BE the church.

I've still got a long way to go in this journey, but I'm now at least feeling an urge to move... Instead of staying parked where I am, dwelling in only the ugliness I see in the church, I will move forward, and strive to see past it - to see the beauty that can only come through brokeness.

(To see more of the "I am the church" photographic community project, visit www.thelongbrake.com.)