Essence.

Part 4 in a series on the challenges of doing church post-Covid.

I had a holy moment last week. We were selling an Airbnb property, and the process had been emotionally turbulent (and I tend to internalize things more turbulently than absolutely necessary). Our realtor called and asked how I was doing. I decided to be honest and told her it had been a bumpy ride but that I was getting help in the process. I told her that I believe every circumstance belongs in our lives, that it’s here to be a teacher for us. She heartily agreed.

I shared how I had gone to bed a couple times recently and not been able to sleep, chewing on obstacles like a dog with a bone, turning them over and over in my head trying to solve them. I knew I needed to let the anxieties go, but as soon as I tried to toss them away, they snapped back in place like a bungee. Yet as I gradually reoriented my heart from resistance to trust, grace rose mysteriously to meet me there. I told her the weight was rolling off, and I was feeling light again. I even felt the reality of that lightness permeating our conversation.

“Wow,” she said, “As you describe that, it gives me chill bumps.” I felt them too. In fact, somehow we both knew that we had stepped into a sacred space on the phone, and we continued to talk about the divine mystery of grace and how freedom is God’s heart for us in every difficult situation. The electric buzz of Presence was palpable and captivated me the entire day.

It was church, pure and simple.

This last month we have been discussing how church is complicated, how church needs a minimal “trellis” to support the vine, and how discernment is necessary to know whether we should remain in the institution. In this final post of the series, I want to explore what is the essence of church? Whether inside or outside the structure, what is it that we all truly need? Because at its heart, “church” defines something every one of us is made for.

Identity. I think the gradual awakening of the Spirit within us, especially in the Second Half of life (more on that coming), is that church isn’t something we do, church is something we are. Church is the organic connection of every part of the Body of Christ. Across belief, across time, across geography we are connected one to another. Connected to everything and everyone.

Sitting here on writing retreat in Breckenridge, CO, I’m connected with the strangers eating breakfast at the table beside me. Even the large, hairy, loud guy. I’m connected with the 13,000-foot peaks piercing the horizon. I’m connected with the Blue River surging noisily below me. I’m connecting with the love of God channeled through the alpine sunshine warming my face. Honestly, connected with everything that is. And uniquely connected to the creme-filled beignet I’m eating right now.

Church is the awareness that, despite a million illusions to the contrary, there is no separation. God’s active delight in us is all-in and all-out, at our best and at our worst. What we call fellowship and community is simply (and importantly) the conscious experience of a reality that surrounds us 24/7.

Flow. Connection shows in flow. Church is the necessary giving and receiving among all these simultaneous relationships. Kindness, generosity, seeing and being seen—as I was with my realtor friend last week—these kinds of flow lie at the heart of God’s idea of church. We can survive in isolation, but we can only thrive when we are sharing our grace with others and receiving theirs.

Spiritual gifts are perhaps the most common way of talking about flow, and it’s no accident that Paul talks about spiritual gifts in the context of our connection as a Body (1 Cor 12). Want to know how healthy your experience of church is these days? Just look at the quality of your flow. If you are giving and receiving in abundance—full to overflowing internally and externally, more often than not—then you are doing church well.

Influence. The flow coming into our lives is balanced and sustained by the flow moving out of our lives to others, which we could call influence. And in particular, a healing influence. Just as the physical body carries enormous power to heal itself and even heal others, the spiritual Body is designed to be a continuously healing presence in the world. Every word, every breath, every attitude, every reaction—these either tear at the fabric of our global body or they mend it. Let’s be intentional about the mending.

So this is another lens for considering the church: If it’s a mending force in the world, then it’s Church. If it’s a tearing, disconnecting, separating force in the world, it’s not Church…regardless of what the sign says on the door.

The interesting thing is that all three of these components—identity, flow, and influence—can happen in a Sunday morning church service. But sometimes none of those things happen at “church.” And sometimes all of these things happen outside of “church.” At its best, the organized church reminds, reinforces, and reconnect us with these essential realities. At its worst, the organized church actually obscures and obstructs them.

So how might we organize the institutional church more around these three essentials? This seems like the right question to be exploring these days.

growing the soul

Take a quick personal tally: How are you actually experiencing your connected identity, your flow inward and outward, and your healing influence on the world at large? On a scale of 1 - 10, how healthy is your “church”? And where it’s good, where are you finding these blessed experiences?

serving the world

Because church is flow, we are all both consumers and suppliers of this reality. Hold this question in your heart today: What am I doing to increase the supply of healthy Church in my world…and what new opportunities might be calling?

takeaway

Freely you have received, Freely give.