".....and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.....(Romans 5:5)"
A question. When was the last time you heard someone go on about the notion that the Church is dying? I'm willing to bet that if you're involved in a church somewhere, it hasn't been that long. It's out there, isn't it? The truth is that I hear it all the time. It's whispered in pews, pronounced by pundits and dwelt upon by all manner of "believers."
Well, I want to say that I'm weary of hearing it all. I know. There's truth in it, and denial isn't going to get us anywhere. But maybe truth is broader than what is merely true. Perhaps there are more possibilities hidden in the folds of tomorrow than we can imagine. Maybe the landscape we are walking on isn't what we think it it is after all. It makes me wish I could have Mary's eyes when I gaze into the tomb.
So it is that I'd like to call a moratorium on doomsday language in the Church. I would like to lovingly invite those people who are fond of pronouncing the church's obituary to take a nap for a bit. For a period of one year I would like to issue a call, a dare, a double dog dare to everyone....yes including me... to stop the woeful shaking of the head and whining about the church's decline. Is that possible?
I wonder.
I throw down this gauntlet because I believe there is a large degree to which all this gloom and doom becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Think about it. Who wants to knowingly get on board the Titanic? Who would choose to become part of a community who has no passion or sense of a possible future? Why would someone invest time, resources, heart in an enterprise whose demise has already been scheduled? The answer's obvious, yes?
I do think that what is needed is a new kind of truth telling. Not the unvarnished member counting kind of truth, but the kind of truth that reminds us of what it is to hope. By hope I'm not talking about a hollow wish that accompanies things like, "I hope it doesn't rain," or "I hope the Giants take the Series again this year." No. I am talking about actual hope. The willingness to individually ad collectively seize upon an unreasonable enthusiasm for a future we cannot necessarily see. This is the kind of hope lived out in the life of Nelson Mandela, who spent decades in prison refusing to abandon the hope of liberation for his people. This is the kind of hope that stares death in the face and shouts, "Resurrection!"
I have a deep hope for the United Methodist Church, though perhaps the evidence might be hard to see right now. But then if there were evidence, it wouldn't be hope, would it? My hope is that this Wesleyan people will claim anew the Resurrection power that propelled our spread across the world. My hope is that, rather than chewing each other up over absurd culture war silliness, we will claim our common cause in a Risen Christ and go forward to heal a broken world. My abiding hope is for a radical rebirth of our sense of mission and hospitality, our commitment to "social holiness," and simple joy rooted in our communities and in our faith. These are some of my hopes.
Beyond the cynicism that gets flung at us daily, what are some of yours? Perhaps we can step into them together.
SR
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