Lego My Church
“Uncle Joel, Uncle Joel! Look what I made!”
It was my nine-year-old nephew, Caleb. He’d been tinkering in the back room for hours, it seemed. And now he wanted to show me the fruits of his labor. It was a carefully constructed Lego helicopter–and it was impressive. Each edge was smooth, every piece had a place, nothing looked out of place. My nephew apparently knows a thing or two about Legos.
I can’t say that I’m expert in the field. I, of course, never had Legos to play with as a child. Only sticks and dirt. But even so, I could appreciate what Larry Osborne is saying in one of his recent books when he suggests that people are like Legos. We are like Legos, says Osborne, because when it comes to our ability to connect with others, our capacity is limited. Some people have dozens of connecting points. Others have only a few. But either way, once those connecting points are full–they’re full. People who have reached this stage may very well be friendly to others, but it will no longer be possible for people to connect in a deep, lasting, and powerful way. They simply do not have the relational capacity.
It’s a simple insight–but extremely important for understanding the ways that church communities function. For starters, it helps explain what I like to call the “I’ve-been-here-six-months-and-everybody-was-so-friendly-at-first-but-how-come-I-still-don’t-have-any-close-friends” Phenomenon (or IBHSMAEWSFAFBHCISDHAFP for short). The less charitable explanations of this phenomenon are to suggest that those friendly faces that greeted you that first Sunday morning were insincere or that the church is cliquish (I’m not sure which would be worse) . But if we can understand that people are like Legos, then we can perhaps be more gracious. The simple reality may be that people’s connectors are full.
When a church is full of people who feel that there connectors are “full”–that they have all the meaningful relationships they need–it is a blessing. But this great gift–this thing (I think) we all want to see happen in our churches–is a double edged sword. Because the reality is that “success” in the area of community building can quickly become a barriar for growth. The bonds that connect us to one another can easily become barriars that make other people feel shut out. (Again, not necessarily because people are cliquish or insincere, but because people are only capable of so much.) This may be one reason why it more established churches (where members presumably are more connected) often find it more challenging to grow then the new church plant across town (a place where people are new and, by definition, unconnected).
But I wonder, does it have to be this way? Assuming Osborne’s premise is right (something that could be debated), is it possible for a Christian community to have people connected in rich relationships while also leaving room for others to come in? How connected should we be to our brothers and sisters in Christ? What avenues can we provide for people who are looking for connections to actually make them with others who need them?
Good News or Old News?
“Restore unto me the joy of your salvation.”
Psalm 51:12″
The question came from the woman standing in the lift line next to me. The collar of her coat was pulled up tight against the cold and her goggles obscured much of her face. I glanced down at her, smiled, nodded, and we scooted forward in line. When our turn came, we plunked down in the chair and the lift swept us up the mountain. Within moments, the woman began to chatter away.
“Well,” she said, “I really don’t ski that much. My daughter–she’s 26–she’s the real skier in the family. Of course, she probably won’t be doing much of it this year…”
The woman paused. Sensing that this was my cue to prod her along, I asked why.
“Well,” she said, “She had climbing accident this summer. Terrible thing. She and some friends were taking the back route up Greys and Torrey’s. A ledge snapped out from under her. She fell and broke her back…”
She paused again, giving me a moment to shake my head and cluck my tongue with the appropriate blend of shock and sympathy.
“But you know what?” She didn’t pause this time–but leaned a little closer, letting me see the sparkle in her eyes as she spoke. “The doctors were able to perform some surgery–and they say she’s going to be fine. In fact, she may very well be back on skis come March. Remarkable, isn’t it?”
I’ve had a lot of ski lift conversations over the last few years–but there was something about this one that was different. I think it was the sense of urgency in the woman’s voice, the impression she gave me that she just might burst if she didn’t say something. She had some good news–and she just had to share.
A Rant: Removing the Roadblocks
Pardon me, but I need to rant a bit today. That means this post will undoubtedly include some ridiculous overstatement, silly generalization, or other ungodly use of words. So I ask your forgiveness in advance. But I just can’t help myself.
My rant is in response to an email I received recently. It was from a dear friend who was looking for a book recommendation. The book was not for him, but for a family member who apparently has turned her back on the Christian faith (any book recommendations out there?). While explaining his request, he gave a fistful of reasons for her rejection, but the one that really stuck in my craw was one I’ve heard all too often. This young woman–a bright student in finishing her masters degree in biology at a large university–is under the impression that you can’t be a Christian AND be an intelligent scientific thinker. Her proof? The (misinformed) impression she has that all Christians believe (and must believe) that dinosaurs never existed, that the earth is 6,000 years old, that there is no such thing as evolution in any shape or form.
Don’t get me wrong. You are entitled to conclude from your reading of Genesis 1-2 that God created the world in a very short time (even 6, 24 hour days). You may believe, if you really think it best, that the dinosaur bones that have been found just west of Denver were a part of God’s elaborate plan to create a young earth that merely looked old (on par with giving Adam and Eve belly buttons). You can even insist that the earth is a mere 6,000 years old. You may think all those things and I will have no beef with you. Just don’t tell me that I have to believe all those things. More importantly, don’t tell my young friend that she has to.
There are a lot of reasons I’d prefer Christians don’t run around insisting on this narrow interpretation of Scripture. For one, I (and many other Bible-believing Christians) believe that there are other (better?) ways to interpret the text–ways that remain faithful to Genesis’ original intent but not at odds with scientific findings. I think that looking to Genesis 1 to see just how old the earth is and exactly “how it happened” is starting in the wrong place–that when we do that we’re asking questions the text isn’t trying to answer. I think that the text may not be trying to tell us exactly how God created the cosmos (I can’t understand why God would think it necessary to tell us that–first thing!)–but that he created it (I can understand why God would want us to know that). I may elaborate on that in a later post (depending on how much trouble I get in for this one), but that’s not really my main point here. My main point is that there are sound reasons for having a different understanding of Genesis 1 and that to insist that there is only one–and that it’s the one that seems to contradict so much science–is to put up an unnecessary roadblock to the Christian faith. I’d even go to say that, depending on the severity of the insistence, it may even be making the Christian faith about something it is not.
Let me explain that last sentence–and pardon the tangential thinking. Remember, this is a rant.
Here in Denver, it’s not uncommon to see “Darwin Fish” plastered on the bumpers of the Subaru’s in the King Soopers parking lot. You know the ones–they have fins, feet, and often, gaping mouths that are chomping down the “Jesus fish”. There are probably a lot of things that could be said about those fish (either the Darwin fish or the Jesus fish). But for today, just take a moment and notice the interest pairing that is happening here. The Darwin symbol–which represents one interpretation of the way the world came about–is paired with a Jesus symbol. I don’t expect anything on a bumper to be too profound, but in my mind, this should be an apples to oranges comparison–a confusion of categories. After all, when I want people to know Jesus and to become Christians, what I want for them to know is all the life, salvation, holiness, joy, fulfilment, meaning, hope, and redemption that can be theirs in Christ Jesus…not some particular understanding of all the details of the way this world came about. To be sure, we have something to say about that as Christians–but it’s not our main concern. Yet the pairing of the Darwin/Jesus fish on so many bumpers suggests that, at least in the minds of many (presumably) non-Christians–that is our (and Jesus’!) main concern. If that’s the message we’re sending, no wonder so many people remain disinterested–or even scornful–from the “Christian” faith.
That’s one of the tragic ironies of all the energy that many Christians have been pouring into the Creationist debate. They’ve been fighting for “truth” in what may be considered a peripheral issue, but in the process have but up unnecessary roadblocks for those who might come to know the Truth, the way, and the life. In my mind, that is something worth ranting about.
