Little Shoots of Hope

When you need a reminder of what is ahead.

After Tennessee’s usual snowmageddon, Spring stopped by for a quick cup of tea before retreating back into her garden shed to finish preparations for what promises to be her best show ever. Little shoots of hope in the form of Daffodils pushed through the rigid mulch and are now topped with fattening buds that will open soon. Every year I smile when I see them, the first of my Spring flowers, as they remind me in the dead of winter that the cold is only a temporary, and necessary, thing. I will get through the dreary days, despite the lack of Vitamin D and sunshine.

Underground, there is a miracle happening. Underground, in the cold under the ice and snow, living things are thriving, bulbs and seeds and corms and rhizomes are sending down deep roots, gathering fuel for the colorful show that will soon fill the land around our home, the woods, and the pond with bright and ever-changing beauty.

My family has been in a place of transition since the end of October, having walked away from a local congregation in order to pursue God’s changing plan for our family. As the kids have grown up, so have our needs. Part of following Jesus is the discipline of learning and listening, and as we have done so He has been faithful to lead us. But change is hard. It often means ending relationships, hurting feelings, and facing incredulity when those you love just don’t understand. Pressing in, listening in silence and solitude, reading and praying, and asking really hard (sometimes scary) questions has made it very difficult to “land” anywhere. American evangelicalism has become a monstrous industry, yet all many of us have ever known. What is the church, anyway? What is it actually supposed to look like? What is it actually supposed to do for those who attend? And there is the big question that has surfaced over and over again, hanging like a dark cloud over us as we grapple with what we see all around us…What has gone wrong?

Because something has definitely gone wrong.

If you watch or listen to any news at all, you know what I mean. Scandal after scandal. Burned out staff members, deconstructing pastors, abuse, national news reporting on another leader involved in sexual sin.

Arguments over worship music, Christian celebrities, girls screaming and crying over good-looking married Christian singers on the front row of concerts, sketchy theology being sung and burned into the hearts of worshippers, music telling us to be desperate for a God who did literally everything so we don’t have to do that anymore. Crying for the Holy Spirit to come down when He is right here inside each of us. Hellfire and brimstone, striving and fear mongering, tearful parades to the altar week after week, manipulation of emotions and flat-out bad theology pouring from pulpits week after week…

it’s all just way too much. It makes Jesus look, well, awful

Speaking of Jesus, it appears He is too often an afterthought, a means to an end, a tool to bump numbers and solidify hierarchal positions of authority that the average person feels they are not allowed to question. “You can’t mess with God’s man,” I hear.

People believe they can’t think for themselves. We have forgotten about the promise of the Spirit as our teacher. We have tools available to us that previous generations only dreamed of, yet we swallow bad theology hook, line, and sinker because we are conditioned to not question those in authority. For too long, being a Christian felt like it was “always winter but never Christmas.” (C.S. Lewis) But people are questioning the systems at large, and change is coming. Statistically, church attendance is way down but there are some churches that are seeing a resurgence. Like the daffodils refusing to be held down by ice and snow, little shoots of hope are springing up. The old paths are calling us to pay attention, once again, to how it all began.

Acts 2:42-47 (NASB) They were continually devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.

Everyone kept feeling a sense of awe; and many wonders and signs were taking place through the apostles. And all those who had believed were together and had all things in common; and they began selling their property and possessions and were sharing them with all, as anyone might have need. Day by day continuing with one mind in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they were taking their meals together with gladness and sincerity of heart, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord was adding to their number day by day those who were being saved.

Read this passage a couple of times, then ask yourself a very important question: What in the world has happened to God’s people?

Let’s break these verses down. The book of Acts describes the early church, the very first believers in Jesus after His resurrection and ascension. In David Bentley Hart’s incredible translation of the New Testament, we read in Acts 2:43: “And reverence came to every soul.”

Reverence. What a concept that I believe we need to revisit. In a culture of seeker friendly churches and insistance on relevance so we can reach the young people (not a bad motivation, but I’m not 100 percent sold on the methodology) we have lost the posture of reverence for Father, Son, and Spirit. We are surrounded by money-changers (and too often we are the money changers) using the name of Jesus to turn a profit. Western Evangelicalism looks nothing like what the early church fathers and mothers knew. Reverence has been slain by relevance.

Or has it?

Acts 2:46, In Hart’s translation, reads, “And from day to day they steadfastly remained in the Temple in concord of spirit and, breaking bread in one house after another, they shared their food in gladness and simplicity of heart.”

A few weeks ago, we visited a local liturgical church for the first time. I was struck by the history, the soot-stained walls and creaky wooden pews filled with parishioners speaking in hushed tones, joyfully singing from hymnals and bowing to the Cross as it was brought into the center of the room to remind us that Jesus entered our world. I watched an elderly woman weep as she received communion, palms turned up and adoration pouring from her countenance. It felt like an awkward first dance, not knowing when to stand or kneel, the smell of incense engaging our bodies, passing the peace (do you say “hi” or just “peace” or both or what?) and melodies of new songs, foreign to our evangelically trained ears, forcing us to listen more and sing less for now. That first Sunday we left quickly, not wanting to make a commitment by getting to know people. We didn’t know how we felt about all this. Not yet.

But then we went back and took our daughters. And that day, we stayed after the service and met the priests. People wanted to know our names and prayed the Spirit would lead us to the right place for our family to settle. No pressure. No sales pitch.

We went back again, just this past week. And we realized there was a “feast” between services, congregants from both the 9 and 11 o’clock coming together over breakfast and coffee. Laughter, celebration. Hugs and prayers and “gladness and simplicity of heart.”

Don’t get me wrong, we have experienced wonderful fellowship and friendships in every church we have ever attended. No church is ever going to be perfect. But our experience has always been in the evangelical world. To walk out filled with joy and reverence, to have the feeling of awe hang over our hearts like incense for days afterwards, has made me realize what we have been missing and longing for in recent years.

My soul was fed by the quiet, creaking pews, incense wafting from the altar, and a huge cross above it all. Elderly and young together read the liturgy, soaking in the ancient words. The long, drawn out communion celebration punctuated by “Praise be to God” as all leave, prepares us to go and be the hands and feet of Jesus in a hurting, traumatized world full of people He absolutely adores. No long, dramatic sermon. No one shouting or condemning God’s children, but loving reminders of who we are in Christ and that in Him we are fully equipped to do whatever He asks us to do. The Lord’s Prayer. Confession of sin. Joy in remembering the restoration purchased at the cross, walking in freedom because Jesus set us free.

Quiet, creaking pews.

I have realized my desperate longing for quiet and a desire to steal away from the noise of the world and walk ancient paths forged long ago by the early church.

Not because we have to, but because we can.

Because it is life-giving, anxiety-reducing, and so very beautiful.

This church, whether it is where we end up or not (we are being very careful and prayerful as we walk out this decision with our kids) is like the daffodils about to burst open by the old dogwood tree. Shoots of hope. Proof of life.

Winter is almost over.

Praise be to God.