The Sauntering Pilgrim

The church and its message exist today in a world flooded with noise and distractions that vie for attention. The world is inundated with competing and contradictory solutions to the problems we face. In the words of poet William Alexander Percy, “Too much is said too loudly; I am dazed. / The silken sound of whirled infinity / Is lost in voices shouting to be heard.”

Our neighbors yearn to hear the simple wisdom that rings true and resonates with the law of life that’s written on their hearts (Jer. 31:31-34). Like those gathered around Jesus in the temple (John 10:22-30), our neighbors ask of us, “If you have the message of life you say you have, tell us plainly, so we can understand and believe.” For many of our neighbors, our message of what God is doing in the world – the message of grace and love, of wholeness and reconciliation – is not being heard.

Two pastors were standing at the side of the road holding up a sign that read, “The End is Near! Turn around before it’s too late!” Their plan was to display the sign to each passing motorist. As the first car sped by, the driver yelled, “Leave us alone, you religious nuts!” A few moments later, from around the curve they heard screeching tires and a big splash. One pastor said to the other, “Do you think we should change the sign to just say, ‘Bridge Out’?”

The message we offer the passing world is that the way you’ve been living will lead to disaster. There’s a better way, one that will lead to more and better life than you ever imagined (John 10:10 The Message). The message of life we offer is not our tradition, like some faded wardrobe from the past in which we dress ourselves and try to dress others. The message of life is already written on our hearts and on the hearts of everyone else (Jer. 31:31-34).

Our calling and responsibility is to help others give birth to the ancient wisdom in their hearts and follow it to life in all its fullness, even if their way is different from our way. How do we do that effectively so our neighbors don’t drive into the river? How do we fulfill our calling to love so that those around us have life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of having?

First, in the words of St. Paul, we start with ourselves, we present our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is our spiritual worship. “Do not be conformed to this world,” he wrote, “but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God – what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom. 12:1-2). Don’t take the name of the Lord in vain; don’t call yourself Christian if all you want is cheap grace, if you’re unwilling to bear the cost of discipleship, to take up your cross daily, and to follow the way of life Jesus pioneered (Luke 14:25-33).

Don’t start unless you’re willing to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength – with all you have and all you are – and to love your neighbor as yourself – every neighbor, every person of color, every documented or undocumented alien, persons of every sexual orientation or gender identity, persons of every social or economic status, persons from every cultural and religious background, persons of every political loyalty, every one of your neighbors near or far – to love them as you love yourself (Mark 12:28-31). Don’t start unless you have what it takes to see it through to the finish (Luke 14:25-33).

Then, once you’ve begun, get on with it. Open yourself to God’s guidance. Rid yourself of prejudice, social conditioning, cultural influences, the expectations of others, the desire for comfort and happiness and a life of ease, and the need for certainty. Live as a disciple as intentionally and faithfully as you can, seeking God’s help with every choice you make, and trusting God with everything.

In the end, we won’t be judged on how much theology we’ve studied, or how frequently and eloquently we’ve prayed, or how much money or time we’ve given to the church (Mark 12:41-44), or how many Bible verses or hymns we’ve memorized, or what nice buildings and liturgies we have, or how well we’ve maintained the traditions we inherited.

No, eternity will judge us on whether our cheeks have touched the cheeks of those who suffer, if our hands have held the hands of those who endure pain, and if our abundance has been shared with those who are deprived of life’s necessities. Did we feed the hungry? Did we show hospitality to the strangers and sojourners among us? Did we minister to the sick and visit the prisoner? Did we pay just wages to laborers and subvert the unjust accumulation of wealth? Did we loosen the bonds of injustice and set the oppressed free? Did we build bridges instead of walls? (Matt. 25:31-46; Isa. 58)

Our neighbors are asking us, “If you have the message of life you say you have, tell us plainly, so we can understand and believe.” Charting the future of the church that speaks plainly to a new generation will require a commitment to understanding and addressing the unique needs and aspirations of the world today. We will need to embrace technology, learn to be more inclusive, practice better environmental stewardship, develop new ways to worship, learn new ways to build and nurture community, and boldly challenge social and political ills wherever we find them.

In the end, it won’t matter if any small, struggling congregation survives the cultural changes that sweep us along. It will matter if that small, struggling congregation, in language that is bold and clear and unmistakable, tries to alert its neighbors to the dangers ahead in the way of life they are pursuing, and if it offers them proactively an alternative that is viable and lifegiving.