Church is great. I love it so much that I work for one. And the
people there, they are great too. But just like black forest trifle
or binge watching the Fast and Furious movies, you can overdo great
things.
Something which I became aware of early on as a pastor is the need to
find a church/life balance. I am not talking here about pastors
taking a sabbatical or having hobbies and interests to keep them
sane. I am talking about the regular person in the pews. And there
was an event a few years ago which really brought this home to me.
I was asked to officiate at a funeral for a member of my congregation
who had passed away. She was in her nineties and had lived out her
final years in a nursing home, because of that I had only met her a
handful of times when I first joined the church. I wasn't in a
position to write a eulogy since she left the church within weeks of
my induction due to diminishing health, I didn't know her well enough
and sadly I had to treat her funeral similarly to most other funerals
I officiate at. I asked her family what she was like.
N was a special case. Both her husband and her son had passed away
decades before, her brothers and sisters too, she had suffered with
dementia for years, and the only family she had remaining were her
nephews. This can either be seen as a testimony to her longevity or
a sign of increasing loneliness in old age. Her nephews spoke fondly
of aunty N. They weren't exactly close enough to suffer the deepest
throws of grief, but close enough to recall her fondly and want the
best funeral possible. And at ninety something, they were prepared
for the inevitable.
I sat with them and, after the usual discussion of sympathy and other
arrangements, I begin to ask questions regarding her eulogy. 'What
did your aunty enjoy?' 'Did she have any favourite books or music
that she might want read or played?' 'Where was her favourite
holiday?' 'What shows did she listen to on the wireless or watch on
TV?'
Their answer to every question was 'Church'. N lived for the church.
She had never been on holiday, as far as they knew. They could only
ever remember her watching Songs of Praise and listening to religious
services. Her sole social outlet was the church. The only book they
remember seeing her read was her Bible.
No one else in her family had any interest in church so they were not
paying attention to her dalliances into hymns and readings. My
Christian friends could tell you a number of my favourite verses
(maybe Ecclesiastes 5:2 tonight, but that will change by tomorrow),
and they will know about my love for Wesley hymns, or how I often
sing Dyma Gariad fel y Moroedd to myself (Here Is Love Vast As
The Ocean for those of you who haven't learned Welsh yet).
But when no one else in your family is interested in God or church
stuff, it's all just the Bible and hymns to them.
And worse than that. For her entire life, N had been secreted away
from her family every Sunday and three nights a week to a whole life
they weren't part of. The greatest Christian witness that family
could have ever seen was hidden from them, cloistered within the
walls of a small valley chapel.
N's funeral broke my heart. It made me realise that I was part of
the very organisation which had offered her hope and fellowship, but
at the expense of her own family truly knowing her.
I have spoken with other church goers about this too. There's an
unspoken pressure in church to attend and to partake in so many
activities that they find their home lives lacking. One church
member said how he had slipped behind with bill payments because the
time he usually spent arranging his finances had been taken up with
Bible study and prayer meetings. I meet people who are a wreck,
their health affected through exhaustion because it fell it to them
to run the soup kitchen and the street walks through the night. I
have spoken with children who resent that other church members saw
their parents more than they did growing up. And each time I realise
how church monopolises lives, and those who pay the greatest cost are
our loved ones.
So I took a decision. My church is open for coffee on a Sunday
morning, a twenty minute meditation on a Sunday night, and two hours
on a Monday for Bible study. Our meditation is swapped once a month
for bi-lingual Sunday School. And we close down for most of August.
I want people to have time to spend with their families for Sunday
lunch. I want them to be able to join social clubs and to see
friends. I want the people who come to church to be with those who
love them.
Of course, none of my plans ever work. They have decided that once a
fortnight they want to meet for tea and toast on a Thursday morning,
or go for a pub lunch, and I am not going to stop them. Church can
offer a lot of social activities for those who need it, and my tea
and toast group are all retired or unemployed who want somewhere to
hang out in the week. It keeps them off the streets and out of
trouble, those troublesome geriatrics.
I visit a lot of churches, mostly as a preacher, but occasionally
because I love the architecture of cathedrals. I have seen some
amazing stained glass windows, some beautiful pulpits, gorgeous
alcoves and ceilings. But the single most beautiful thing I have
ever found in churches are the congregations. You are beautiful.
You, when you share the love that Jesus has for creation, are the
most wonderful example of a God who has kissed this world in love.
And if you really want to make a difference in the world, please go
and live. Spend time with those who love you, spend time with
yourself. Church can manage without you for a few nights a week,
because one day your pastor will be asking the same questions to your
family I asked N's. Please leave them with wonderful memories, and
me a good eulogy.
No comments:
Post a Comment