flaws and faithfulness (i.e. skipping church)

Oh my… it’s been a while.  I suppose that’s fairly normal.  I did write a post on ‘seasons’ a time ago, and it seems to still apply, even with blogging.  I think for a while I was subconsciously freaked out by the ‘permanence’ of the internet and the thought of writing something I’d later feel stupid about.  But then there’s Facebook—so who am I kidding?  We’ll all someday look back on a former version of ourselves that has since “matured” significantly.  Maybe.

And maybe we’ll just be that same person, with different flaws and questions, but still working out what it means to live a meaningful life.  I’m finding this to be true. 

This morning I picked up a book I had long ago set down unfinished.  I read the final chapters of Philip Yancey’s Soul Survivor and came across a description of something the author had learned from Henri Nouwen.  He wrote:

In countless personal appearances, in more than forty books, and most of all in his daily life, Nouwen demonstrated that flaws and faithfulness do not supplant each other but coexist. 

Can I just tell you… this was like a cup of cool water to soothe my soul.  If you’re not familiar, Henri Nouwen was a Catholic priest, university professor, and prolific author and speaker who spent the last ten years of his life serving the mentally and physically handicapped at a place called L’Arche Daybreak in Toronto, Canada.  Many people didn’t understand why such a successful theologian and professor would step out of the limelight into a place of such seeming insignificance.  But Nouwen found that while his former lifestyle swelled his ego and his sense of external worth, the move to L’Arche was the better choice for his spirit and a place of true belonging and love.  He identified both with the elder brother in Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son, but also secretly with the younger (and later also with the Father, who attempts to show mercy to any wayward sons sitting on his steps). 

Right now, I also feel like the older brother—trying, sometimes desperately, to do all the right things to earn the respect and love of my Father and other people around me.  But my flaws show up all the time.  It’s infuriating. 

To give an example:  this morning we skipped church.  (I know, I know… flaw, really? But as someone who’s literally spending years of her life and thousands of dollars training to lead and serve this very church, it’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?)  I woke up at 10 AM with a twinge of guilt.  Occasionally, we’re out of town and have a legitimate excuse to miss.  But here’s a sliver of how this worked itself out today instead:

[12:30 AM last night:]  Oh, geez—it’s late.  I should go to bed.  I need to go to church in the morning.  But Matt asked for help gluing these flash cards.  And it’s the second to last episode of this show, so… I can stay up a bit longer. 

[2:00 AM:] Shit.  It’s so late.  Sleep or church? Sleep or church?  Sleep.

[10:00 AM this morning:] Damnit.  I should’ve gone to church.  We’re going to miss the next two weekends, and showing up once in a month is pitiful.  The pastor knows I’m studying for ordination.  This looks so bad… What kind of church is going to want a pastor someday who can’t even convince herself that going to church regularly is important? 

[11:00, reading my book:] Okay, this isn’t so bad.  I’m not at church, but I’m reading a spiritually-edifying book.  This still counts as worship, right? AND it’ll give me extra time to clean up this hurricane-aftermath of a condo.  This place needs help.  

[11:15:] Ugh.  Bre, who are you kidding?  You’re a wanna-be pastor who can’t walk the talk.  You’d rather sit in your pajamas than get out of bed early to fellowship and worship with your community at church.  That’s so selfish.

[11:30:]  You know what, self? Let’s just take it easy.  Sabbath is okay.  Rest is okay.  Not showing up for church for one Sunday doesn’t make you anti-church or a bad human.  Jesus isn’t interested in seeing you do your best to be perfect.  He’s just here, always here, right now.  Will you continue to go to church?  Of course!  Let’s just settle into this opportunity to learn to take yourself a little less seriously.  That’s probably good for everybody.

This is approximately where I’ve landed.  Flaws and faithfulness.  Two sides of the same coin.  As Yancey pointed out, Jesus doesn’t spend much time in the Gospels with the people who seem to have it all together.  And those same people don’t seem to need him.  It’s the people who know their life is flawed and hopeless that flock to Him, and that he touches, blesses, teaches, and shares his meals with.  The church was built on believers—like Peter and Paul—who have a (canonized!) history of rejecting and persecuting Jesus, of not being perfect.  Who am I trying to learn from, and what am I trying to prove? 

Perhaps my mental and spiritual energy is better spent simply recognizing the presence of Jesus, at church or in any space that I find myself, at any given time.  Amen to that.