
It can be really hard to love the church. Every Christian, who’s been one for very long, knows this.
The earthly church has always been a motley crew. It’s never been
ideal. The New Testament exists because churches, to differing degrees,
have always been a mess — a glorious mess of saints still polluted by
remaining sin, affected by defective genes, brains, and bodies, and
influenced by life-shaping pasts.
This mess rarely looks glorious to us up close. It looks like a lot
of sin and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears invested into a lot of
futility. It often looks like something we’d rather escape than join.
But this is the way it’s supposed to be. Because the mess is what
draws out the one thing that advances the church’s mission more than
anything else. And this one thing is why we must not, for selfish
reasons, leave the church.
The Church We Didn’t Choose
Jesus’s very first disciples didn’t get to choose each other. Jesus chose them (
John 15:16). They just found themselves thrown together.
The very next generation of early Christians didn’t get to choose
each other either. They too were thrown together with others they likely
wouldn’t have chosen: Palestinian and Hellenistic Jews, Jews and
Gentiles, educated and uneducated, slaves and slave owners, impoverished
and aristocrats, former zealots and former tax collectors, former
prostitutes and former Pharisees.
And Jesus gave these early disciples, and all disciples afterward, an impossible command: love one another (
John 15:17). It had to be impossible to obey in mere human power because this love was meant to bear witness of Jesus in the world (
John 13:35), and to give visible evidence of the invisible God (
1 John 4:12). It had to demonstrate that “what is impossible with man is possible with God” (
Luke 18:27).
And Jesus gave his disciples an impossible context in which to carry out this impossible command: the church (
Matthew 16:18)
— a community of diverse, sin-polluted, defective individuals from all
sorts of life-shaping pasts living life together in an impossible love.
Then Jesus gave his church an impossible mission: preach the gospel throughout the whole, God-rejecting, Christ-hating world (
Luke 21:17;
John 15:18),
and plant impossible communities among every people where diverse,
sin-polluted, defective individuals from all sorts of life-shaping pasts
would live out Jesus’s impossible command to love one another (
Matthew 28:19–20).
Impossible love, impossible community, and impossible mission: this
is a plan doomed to fail. There’s no way this works, unless a God exists
who makes possible the humanly impossible.
And here we are, two thousand years later. The impossible mission has
produced impossible communities carrying out this impossible command
throughout much of the world. For all the church’s problems, and they
are legion, something miraculous is at work here.
But the church rarely looks miraculous at any given moment. “The
church,” as we most directly experience it, looks like the
less-than-ideal local church we belong to, made up of ordinary people
struggling to get along, struggling to figure out how to “do church” in a
world of constant change, and struggling to do its part to fulfill the
Great Commission.
Struggling doesn’t look or feel miraculous. It’s fatiguing,
frustrating, and at times exasperating. Struggling can make us want to
give up.
But we must not give up on the church. Because it’s the messy things —
those extraordinarily difficult and painful things that can drive us
crazy — that provide the very opportunities for the humanly impossible
love of Christ to be exercised, giving visibility to the existence of
the invisible God.
According to the New Testament, a church’s success is not measured by
the number of its attenders, the size of its budget, the excellence of
its event production, or the scope of its public influence. Its success
is measured by the quality of its love. A church that most effectively
witnesses Jesus in the world pursues love through:
- Honoring each other (Romans 12:10),
- Contributing to meet each other’s needs (Romans 12:13),
- Showing hospitality to one another (Romans 12:13),
- Rejoicing over each other’s joys (Romans 12:15),
- Weeping over each other’s griefs (Romans 12:15),
- Pursuing harmony with each other in spite of differences (Romans 12:16),
- Not excluding the lowliest members (Romans 12:16),
- Submitting to each other (Ephesians 5:21),
- Persistently striving for agreement over thorny issues (2 Corinthians 13:11),
- Using individual freedom in Christ to serve each other (Galatians 5:13),
- Bearing with each other’s weaknesses, foibles, and immaturity (Ephesians 4:2),
- Covering each other’s multitudinous sins with forgiveness (1 Peter 4:8; Colossians 3:13),
- Stirring up each other to press on in the mission of love (Hebrews 10:24),
- And not neglecting to meet regularly together (Hebrews 10:25).
And what calls such love out? Read each line again and ask what
situations prompt such opportunities to love. The short answer is: lots
of various kinds of struggling. It’s the messy struggles that call out
love.
Churches are designed to be communities of impossible love that only
work if God is real, and Christ’s sacrifice is real, and heaven is real.
In void of love, the community falls apart or degrades into consumer
event products, empty formalism, formless “spirituality,” social
advocacy groups, or essentially civic gatherings — all dying or dead
remains of a past vitality.
Jesus did not design the church to be a place where our dreams come
true. Actually, it’s where many of our dreams are disappointed and die.
And this is more of a grace to us than we likely realize, because our
dreams are often much more selfish than we discern.
Our personal expectations easily become tyrants to everyone else,
because everyone else fails to meet them. When we are more focused on
how others’ failings and foibles obstruct the ideal community we want to
pursue than we are on serving those others and pursuing their good and
joy, our expectations can kill love, which impedes the real mission.
Jesus designed the church to be a place where love comes true, where
we lay our preferences aside out of deference to others. It is meant to
be a living laboratory of love, a place where there are so many
opportunities, big and small, to lay down our lives for each other that
the love of Christ becomes a public spectacle.
That’s why when it comes to church in this age, the picture of
community we should have in our minds is not some utopian harmony, but
Golgotha. In living life together, we die every day (
1 Corinthians 15:31). We lay down our lives for each other (
1 John 3:16).
Love the One You’re With
Over forty years ago, Stephen Stills sang, “If you can’t be with the
one you love, honey, love the one you’re with.” Though he certainly
didn’t write this with the church in mind, we can draw a redemptive
application.
There are numerous legitimate reasons to leave a church, and
departures are one more messy opportunity to extend gracious love. But
we must have a healthy suspicion of our motives if disillusionment,
restlessness, boredom, discontentment, burnout, relational conflict, and
disappointed expectations are fueling our impulse to leave. Often these
fruits have roots in selfish soil. We must not love the church we can’t
be with — that idealized community of our imagination. We must love the
one we’re with.
We don’t get to choose the disciples we live with; Jesus does. We get
thrown into a motley group of sin-polluted, defective saints, among
whom, in our own ways, we are the polluted, defective foremost (
1 Timothy 1:15).
What we get is the incredible privilege of and plethora of
opportunities for loving these fellow disciples like Jesus loved us. We
get
to love them, warts and all. Because it is through the mutually
self-dying, forbearing, forgiving love warty disciples have for one
another that Jesus is most clearly shown to the world and his mission is
most powerfully advanced.