I'm reminded of a story - I forget the author and the name of the book, but the plot goes like this. There once existed a Utopia-like land. If you lived there, you could have anything you could possibly want. It was a deliciously beautiful place and everyone was super happy all the time. But there was one catch. In order to live there, you had to place one of you children into a dungeon where they could only eat stale bread and drink water once a day for the rest of the child's life. The question of the book was, would you do it? Would you sacrifice just one of your children so that the rest of your family could live a perfectly happy existence? Tonight, I feel like the church answered "yes," and I'm the child in the dungeon.
It's tempting to think, "Hmm, that means I get to identify with Jesus, abandoned by all his friends and left alone on this night." But there is a certain uncomfortable irony to think that the people who went to church tonight because they love Jesus and want to be close to him and don't want to be interrupted in that very worthy goal - these are the people who are like the disciples who abandoned Jesus on this night? That doesn't seem quite right. I wonder, should I be OK with being stuck at home on this night, separated from the church, so that the church can remember in a focused manner? I think I would be more able to do this if the people there weren't so nasty about wanting me to leave. But would that even be right if they were nice about it?
The day before we came to this church, I was praying about what God would have my ministry be here. As I prayed, I suddenly could hear the cries of young moms all across the area - moms pouring their lives out for their families day after day after day, with no input, tired, lonely, going on nothing. They were crying out to God, and I felt God saying to me, "I am sending you here for them." I had no idea at the time that I would become one of those young moms myself.
3 comments:
I'm just curious. What did those church members say to you? I know what you mean by those looks, and I've been told even as I entered a sanctuary "the nursery is over there" but I'm just wondering what people did that made you feel so uncomfortable.
Gary,
It's been unbelievable. At first, it was just snubs and spiteful looks. Then several families started calling the head pastor to tell him that they would leave the church if "that woman" didn't stop bringing her baby into the service. (The pastor said he was sorry to hear that but that you can't tell someone not to bring their child to the service.) So then they called the worship chair and the SPRC chair (my husband is an Associate Pastor here). When that didn't work, they started yelling at me on the way in and out of worship ("Put that baby in the nursery!") It was at that point this started really wearing on me. After a few months, the SPRC and the worship chairs were getting phone calls from church members regularly, ranging from moderately unhappy to outraged. Then a lady threatened to demand that a large financial gift (already spent) be given back to her if she left the church over this. And it goes on and on... You'd think my daughter is really noisy or something, but the SPRC committee couldn't even figure out among themselves which of our two services she attends. Eventually a small group was formed to work on making things better with regard to this - I am accompanied from the door of the church to the sanctuary (to ward off attacks), I have an aid sit with me, and then I remain accompanied until I reach a safe location.
I'm your experience, and hope I will remember, when my children are grown, that many people around me offered my wife and I great support when we kept our children in the sanctuary.
I will pray for you and the members of the congregation.
Peace.
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