Save Our Church, Indeed

Saskatoon’s downtown has a number of old, stately churches that quietly hold up the city’s skyline. Whimsically I wonder what it would be like to worship in buildings of such beauty and history, to stand united with the generations of Christians that have gone before. Does God manifest with more holiness when surrounded by opulence and serenity, quiet and dignity? It all looks so reverent. So fit for a king.

The sheen wore off a little when I walked past the billboard outside 3rd Avenue United Church the other day. At first I thought the message was a prayer.

“SAVE OUR CHURCH”

It quickly became obvious however; the message was not to God at all. Alas, it was a fundraising campaign. The unfortunate (read: heretical) choice of words reveals the faithless core which is perhaps less audibly announced in so many other of our city’s churches. Turns out the grass is not greener on the more stately side of the field. We’re all eating the same stale cud, waiting for the same rain from the same dry sky. All of us sniffing around the same wells for water that will always leave us thirsty again.

Save our church?! Are we really looking to our wandering congregations, to the lost souls outside our closed doors to come and save us, validate us, bring us back from the brink of irrelevance?

And then Jesus.

I guess he’s not fooled by the beautiful stone structure on 3rd, or our oversized quonset on the city's outskirts. He sees the heart of his beloved. He knows those on whom his saving power is not lost. Feebly, inarticulately I echo with those who have gone before – Lord, save your church!

Only you can.

On earth as in heaven.

Liberate Christ from Christmas

Spring has descended on our city with a breath of fresh air. All those dusty, dirty, dead things still lying around since last year are being swept up into this scouring of sunshine and sweet breezes. Tree buds poke their noses into springy scents and sigh with relief. Winter is finally over! We are a liberated people. So, Mr. B. and I were cruising downtown Sunday morning to enjoy a pre-church meander by the river. It was the kind of morning that seems like a movie. No wind. No ripple on the river (is that even possible?!) and the air held an almost mist-like dreaminess. I was drifting into my happy zone, coffee in hand. Is anything better than springtime in love? Leave it to me, I guess, to find a distraction. In this dreamlike haze I was suddenly provoked by a bumper sticker I read on the car in front of me. Now when I say provoked, I mean provoked. The kind of provoked that warrants flipping the bird, if one were prone to do so, or saying something really rude like, “Get behind me Satan!”. At first I could not even identify my source of anger. It was simple enough. “Christian”, even.

Keep Christ in Christmas. Without time for consideration I began yelling from our car, “No! Please, Lord! We can’t keep you in Christmas! Not even death could keep him! Do not stay in Christmas! Get out! Do not limit yourself to this consumerist, one-day-only, falsely advertised event that barely hints at your glory! Get out of that manger scene prison! Get out of those lame-ass greeting cards that demean your power. Manifest instead in each of the other 364 days of the year you made with your conquered-the-grave power and your created-the-heavens-and-earth beauty! Bust out of Christmas, Lord! Bust out of our lame churches that preach mediocre news at best and stand on the street corners with a loud speaker of love.” By this time Shane is beginning to wonder if I’ve lost my mind. Probably by now he’s lost interest in our morning walk. But I’m literally nearly in tears! Is this what we’ve reduced him to? A fight for a shout-out in our kids’ school plays before a week of gluttony and excess? Keep Christ in Christmas. I dare you to try! Yeah, yeah. I know the argument. I know that Christmas should be about Jesus. I've heard the conspiracy about Xmas being a way to cut out the Christ. Honestly, I sometimes think Jesus would be the first to cross his name out of Christmas. I feel like this weekend I got a taste of how soft-core our faith can be and I find myself gagging on this lukewarm fodder. Let’s liberate Christ from Christmas. Let’s take him to the streets! Let’s bring him to work! Let’s unleash him in out churches. Let’s try, if just for today, to remember that he is already in us, keeping us in him. We are a liberated people!