Just expressing some opinions

In this post, I'm going to use a very simplistic metaphor/analogy to describe some things that I've observed over the years. It won't be a perfect metaphor/analogy. Before you send me hate mail, please hear me out. (This is a long post, so thank you in advance for reading.) And please understand that I'm not a theologian, an ordained minister, or a licensed therapist. I'm just a chick with a blog, and frankly, I've got nothing to lose, so I'm just gonna go for it. And yes, I had a revelation while I was eating dinner at Chicken Express last night.

 

But this is a photo of a dinner that I ate almost two years ago. I believe this particular meal was chicken tenders, corn nuggets, and a roll from Chicken Express.

Have you ever eaten there? It's a wonderful fried-chicken fast-food chain. Well... in theory, it's a fast-food chain. You would think from the name that they will always serve your food at the express speed of light, right? Wrong. Sometimes they make you wait a few minutes, and you're stuck at the drive-thru forever. But it's usually worth the wait. And according to their packaging, I'm assuming they got their name because they appreciate my business more than they can "express."

Where I live, Chicken Express is pretty much a cultural phenomenon. (Most of us in my choir dig the corn nuggets.) The restaurants are located all over my metropolitan area. And almost everybody likes to eat there. Is it any wonder? Most of their food is delicious, tasty, and extremely hearty. Eating at Chicken Express always sounds like a good idea at first.

Did you sense my hesitant almost-compliments in the previous paragraph? That's because eating at Chicken Express isn't always a good experience. In fact, most of the time after I eat Chicken Express, maybe about 5 or 6 hours later (usually in the middle of the night), a hefty squirt of heartburn reminds me that I ate Chicken Express earlier that day. One time, even my dentist had a bad experience after eating Chicken Express, and I heard about it shortly after I got my teeth cleaned at his office. A physically fit, I-always-have-everything-put-together guy, my dentist anxiously looked out his office window that day, clutched his stomach, and declared with a groan, "I had Chicken Express for lunch, and now... Ohhh!" Of course, doc. I completely understand.

And yet, I still keep eating at Chicken Express. In fact, a whole bunch of us who live here in my metropolitan area keep eating there. My favorite meal is gizzards with fried okra and a roll. I can usually only eat about half of it, but still, it's my fave.

Even though Chicken Express is just another fried-chicken fast-food chain, it's still unique. Its competitors aren't exactly like it. For example...

Church's Fried Chicken is a chain that I've eaten at ever since I can remember. When I was a kid, I remember we used to drive there after church on Sunday afternoons, before they had drive-thrus, and walk up to the window to pick up a bucket of chicken. Their chicken is succulent and wonderful. (It even tastes awesome cold and refrigerated, with ketchup smothered all over it. Mouthwatering!) One year when I was visiting family during a break from college, my aunt asked me if there were any foods that I missed and would like to eat with family. I replied Church's Fried Chicken. She laughed and said that that could be arranged. However, even though Church's Fried Chicken has changed with the times and expanded its menu over the years, I find it harder and harder to eat there. Firstly, most of their restaurants seem to be located in not-so-safe-looking neighborhoods. Secondly, their chicken tenders aren't anywhere near as big or juicy as the Express Tenders from Chicken Express.

I stopped eating at KFC after I heard that they mistreat their chickens before they cook them. (I hope that was just a rumor.)

Golden Chick is a chain that's operated at forgotten little corners of towns across America, but it's still grown pretty well throughout the years. They, too, have changed with the times and expanded their menu. Their chicken and tenders are delicious. They even serve healthier alternatives on their menu like salad and oven-baked (or is it grilled?) chicken. However, I think their restaurant genre should be re-classified as "slow-food" because their wait times are beyond ridiculous, whether you hang out inside or whether you rot at the drive-thru. Their oven-baked (or maybe grilled) chicken tastes overly salty, but their salads are very delicious. But I think my grandchildren will have graduated from college and bought their own franchises before my order will be ready. Frankly, I'd rather just endure Chicken Express heartburn.

Bush's Fried Chicken (a chain in Central Texas) is probably more similar to Chicken Express than the others are. Their service is very efficient. Whenever I'd visit their drive-thru, I'd usually have about 2 or 3 teenagers help me during the different phases of my order. I knew I would always enjoy a delicious meal there, and I knew it would always be served to me lickety-split. But I don't remember there being much variety in their menu choices. Honestly, I think maybe in that department, they could learn a lesson or two from Chicken Express.

Oh, my gosh, I can't get over how wonderful the menu is at Chicken Express. You can get fried chicken. You can get gizzards or livers. (Yes, I love that stuff.) You can get humongous chicken tenders. You can get catfish and hushpuppies. You can get biscuits or rolls. (The roll in the photo I shared earlier is pathetic-looking, but the rolls I get at the restaurant that I visit more often are fluffier and fresher-looking.) And you can get almost whatever the heck you want on the side -- corn nuggets, okra, coleslaw, corn on the cob, French fries, or a beautifully miraculous delight called jalapeño poppers. (Yes, when I first tried jalapeño poppers, I was so impacted by my discovery that I blogged about it.)

So, I guess you could say I have a weird relationship with Chicken Express. I don't think I would go so far as to say that I have a love-hate relationship with it (because I think I mostly love it), but I know that every time I decide to eat there, I will need to brace myself for any surprises and pretty much be prepared for anything.

I could possibly be very disappointed. Maybe I'll have to wait 8-10 minutes for my gizzards and okra to cook, only to be awakened at 1 in the morning with ridiculously rude heartburn. Maybe I'll forget to ask for a roll instead of a biscuit, which could easily moonlight as a doorstop later on. Maybe the teenager who serves me my extra-greasy French fries will do so with only one napkin -- really? only one? Maybe I'll feel festive on a Friday night and decide to buy myself an entire bucket of fried chicken, which truly causes strife in my household, because I have to fight off Macho every time I bring that stuff home -- no, kitty, this is Mama's dinner! can you stop scratching my arm, please?! -- and then I'll seriously chunk up after eating leftover fried chicken for 3 or 4 straight nights in a row. Or maybe I'll decide to order something cheaper and healthier at the drive-thru like catfish, and they won't give me a fork to eat it with while I'm wolfing down dinner in my car.

Or I could have a wonderful experience. The Chicken Express restaurant that I frequent usually isn't crowded, so there's plenty of elbow room while I eat -- sometimes reading my Bible (yes, I got to eat Chicken Express while I was fasting -- did you know that Isaiah 42 and Isaiah 43 are like connected? as in, 42:9 and 43:19 are almost identical??), sometimes watching cable TV, sometimes listening to the oldies station. If I order something that's already prepared, I might even get to finish dinner with enough time to run an errand elsewhere. Even while I've been eating alone -- and trust me, eating alone can get very old -- I've had some very good times at Chicken Express. God has met me there. (Seriously, I still don't know -- why is He so mad at Tyre???)

If Chicken Express isn't perfect, why do I still keep eating there? Because I'm in love with it. I can't stay away. Even though Chicken Express has burned me, I can't deny that it's here to stay, and I can't deny that it's usually conveniently located on my way to somewhere else, and I can't deny that regardless of what I order, they will always serve me up a meal, and I will get to eat. I can count on that.

So, here is the point of this entire post: In my opinion, Chicken Express is a lot like the church.

Where I live, in the Bible Belt, church is pretty much a cultural phenomenon. It's said that in this part of the country, there is a church on every street corner. If I recall the statistics correctly, in a city in Central Texas, there are more churches per capita than in any other city in the country; and yet, that same city is also home to one of the most crime-infested, impoverished areas of Texas. Yes, you'll probably be broke if you live there (I know I was), but you'll have someplace to go on Sunday morning. Going to church is always a good idea -- and it should be.

Unfortunately, some people in this part of the country cherish the social activity of attending church more than they cherish the Person who founded the church in the first place (Jesus). When I was in college, I heard stories about students getting up on Sundays just in time for lunch and getting dressed up to give other people the impression that they had actually gone to church... but the truth was, they hadn't gone to church. They had just gotten dressed up, and now they were eating lunch.

And why should a person have to dress up in order to go to church, anyway? (I usually don't dress up anymore, unless coerced.) I say people should be able to go to church in their pajamas if they want to. (Which I kinda have, in the past. Nobody asked me to leave. Mission accomplished.) Homeless people should be able to come, just as they are off the street, and go to church and not be concerned about what they're wearing.

Even though there can be a huge variety of churches to choose from nowadays, it can still be extremely, uncannily difficult to find a good church nowadays. I remember almost 10 years ago, I had a crazy work schedule that had me working Tuesday through Saturday nights from about 3 p.m. until midnight. I tried going to church on Sunday mornings, but I usually couldn't make it in time. (I think that would be like the equivalent of trying to drag yourself to church on a Saturday morning at 2 a.m. after finishing up your work week on a Friday evening.)

So, while I was church-shopping, I tried to find churches that had services on Sunday evenings. Heh. Those were hard to find. That was back in the day when you'd use a paperbound phonebook to find anything. I would check out the ads. I would call churches. I would visit places that I would notice while I was just out driving around town. One Sunday evening, I decided to try a church, and I didn't dress up on purpose, and I even showed up late sort of on purpose, because I wanted to see what kind of reactions I would get. (I know. I'm like that.) Thankfully, as soon as I walked in, a lady smiled at me, and at the end of the class/service, everybody was very friendly. I don't remember meeting very many people my age, and most everyone in the church was married with children, so I didn't exactly fit in, but so what? I finally found a nice church, so I stayed there and plugged in. Then I moved out of town and started the whole church-shopping process all over again.

I've done the church-shopping thing several times. It isn't always a pleasant experience. Some people get really wrapped up in traditions, and they wonder why church needs to be "culturally relevant." Well, put yourself in my shoes. Move back into your parents' house when you're 27 years old, try to fit into a strange town, visit a church, and then watch a couple of old ladies walk up to your home on a Monday night after you've visited their church. Watch them awkwardly try to relate to you, because they obviously don't know what it's like to be 27, never married, childless, and living with your parents, while desperately wanting to be artsy-fartsy cool. Tell me why somebody in my shoes (back when I was 27 years old) would not care about a church's efforts to be "culturally relevant." Listen. I couldn't care less about the old hymnals in your pews. I couldn't care less about the intonation in the deacons' voices while they were drawling out their prayers. I couldn't care less about the youth choir. I cared about the ache I would feel anytime I'd miss the church experiences I had with all my friends in college. You think my culture didn't matter to me? Sure, God mattered to me more than any of all that stuff. But heck yes, it matters to me that a church make an effort to relate to me. (Hmm. When I sat down to write this post, I didn't realize that I felt that passionately about this particular subject, but I guess I do. I might need to continue this in another post later.)

Honestly, I don't think some churches really want you to break through their precious little clique and join them. I think they'd rather you stay on the outside. I think you can usually tell by how the pastor's wife treats you. (I was raised by a pastor's wife; I know what I'm talking about.) During one of my church-shopping excursions, I visited one church that was relatively small. The pastor's wife met me and shook my hand. She seemed friendly until she found out I was just visiting. Her countenance fell, and she was like, "Oh, so you're just trying out different churches?" and put up an invisible wall. Eh, that's OK. The usher was giving me the creeps, anyway. Moving on.

When I was on a mission trip years ago, I was talking to the wife of the pastor of the church that hosted us. I had felt a major tug on my heart to become a long-term missionary at that particular location, so I told the pastor's wife about it. She cried tears of joy and welcomed me with open arms, right? Wrong. She was like, "Living here is so expensive." Thanks. Always nice to have supportive people backing up your dreams.

Then when you finally do find a church and get involved, that's when you can really get majorly hurt. You could possibly be very disappointed. Or you could possibly be severely scarred for life, to the point of turning your back on God because the people who supposedly were representing Him treated you like crap. I mean, if they're total jerks, that means God is an even bigger Jerk, right?

The truth is, He's not a Jerk. He's the most perfect Being there is. He treats everyone with justice, kindness, and love. It's His people that can sometimes treat other people maliciously. Perhaps it's this ridiculous, unpredictably predictable misrepresentation that contributes to the frustration and the hurt.

Terrible things can truly happen when church people get involved. And I'm not even really talking about the stuff you already see on the news. I'm talking about stupid stuff like making friends with people who you think will be there for you during a crisis, and then when you would really like to have a literal shoulder to cry on, all you get is a text message saying that they are praying for you. Um, thanks. I could have called a ministry hotline somewhere and asked a total stranger to pray for me, but thank you. I thought I could really use some company during my crisis, but if you're too busy to do anything except pray, maybe I can ask my alcoholic coworker if she would like to hang out sometime.

I'm talking about tragically stupid stuff like the usher taking advantage of you in a Sunday School room while no one else is around, and then you tell the pastor's wife, who does nothing. I'm talking about spiritually abusive stupid stuff like a mentor trying to talk you out of buying a cheap coffeemaker at Walmart with your credit card because, um, she can't advise you to go into debt. I'm talking about beyond-ridiculous stupid stuff like you telling your lifegroup leader that you need to find a new job, and she suggests that you get a job as a pole dancer.

You think I'm making this stuff up?

Seriously, we church people are ridiculously imperfect. We can be total dorks. Yes, I'm a church person, too, so I'm including myself in my own rant. Just ask all the people who I manipulated into praying salvation prayers in Spanish during mission trips. Just ask the girl I used to disciple when I was in college. Just ask any of the hundreds of people from my past who I truly hurt. And when you do, please tell them that I'm truly sorry, because I don't think any of them want to speak to me anymore.

Sometimes church people will hurt you in such a deep way that you won't feel the effects of their wounds until much, much later. Then next thing you know, you're lying in bed in the dark in a fetal position, in a weird amount of pain, panting like a pregnant lady, and you're asking God what the heck is going on. He gently replies, "I'm carving out space in your soul for some emotions."

So, I guess you could say I have a weird relationship with the church. I don't think I would go so far as to say that I have a love-hate relationship with it (because I think I mostly love it), but I know that every time I decide to show up there, I will need to brace myself for any surprises and pretty much be prepared for anything.

Because unfortunately, no, I wasn't making any of that stuff up.

If the church isn't perfect, why do I still keep participating in it? Because I'm in love with it. I can't stay away. Even though the church has burned me, I can't deny that it's here to stay, and I can't deny that it's usually conveniently located on my way to my eternal home, and I can't deny that regardless of what I expect, church will always feed me a spiritual meal, and I will get to spiritually eat. I can count on that.

Fortunately, I've had a wonderful experience in church overall. Otherwise, I wouldn't have embraced the concept of church so tightly. I've had some very good times in church, attending church, participating in church, being the church. I've made lifelong friends in church. I've found my calling and discovered my giftings while participating in church. I've grown as a human being in church, and I hope that I'm still continuing to grow. Even though I've gotten hurt by the church, I've also gotten help. I've found community at church. I've found love and acceptance while being a part of church. And, most importantly, I've heard the gospel at church. I found out how to get saved at church. I got baptized in the Holy Spirit at church. This type of thing caused strife in my life, but it happens. I've also seen God's face at church and had lots of conversations with Him at church. God has met me there, in ways that maybe He wouldn't have otherwise. Mission accomplished.

I still work through issues and heartaches, and I personally try to work through them as thoroughly as possible, because I've had my lunch eaten before, and I know that holding on to offenses without working through them is just bad news altogether. I know myself. And I know my Father. I know that I'm a kinesthetic learner: I learn by doing, so I need lots of repetition, I need to experience lots of trial and error, and I need to ask lots of questions. So, when I have conversations with God about how church people have hurt me, He helps me work through it. One time, He told me about some people who I was considering writing off, "You need to stay open in case they repent." And that's how He treats us. We totally disrespect Him, and while we're still on this earth, He doesn't give up on us. He stays open, ready for us to repent and run back into His arms.

And, for reasons that I honestly don't understand (do I really need to?), He chooses to express Himself to the world through us. Yes, the church is "the hands and feet," the tangible expression of Jesus, on the earth today.

In love, with great affection, and with a lighthearted chuckle, I say this: God help us.

"Simon Peter answered and said, 'You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.' Jesus answered and said to him, 'Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and flood has not revealed this to you, but My Father who is in heaven. And I also say to you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it." (Matthew 16:16-18)

"Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her, that He might sanctify and cleanse her with the washing of water by the word, that He might present her to Himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing, but that she should be holy and without blemish." (Ephesians 5:25-27)

I don't think I've really thought about it this way before, but I think maybe these verses in Ephesians are saying that if Jesus intends to cleanse His church and wash her, He understands how much the church needs Him to clean her up. Heck, I know I can always use a good cleanup. I can't deny how much I need Him.

In this post, I've used a very simplistic metaphor/analogy to ramble about the church. But I think there's another metaphor/analogy that can be used to describe the church. Actually, it's more of a truth than it is a metaphor/analogy, according to Ephesians 5: The church is like a young newlywed bride who barely knows what she's doing.

I've never been married, but from what I've observed, and from using my imagination, young newlywed brides are so much different than wiser, more experienced brides.

When young women first get married, they call their moms like every day with all sorts of questions. They especially don't know what they're doing when it comes to intimacy. I've heard that the first one or two years of marriage are the hardest.

Perhaps a young newlywed bride struggles so much at first because she doesn't know her bridegroom as well as she thought she did. Or perhaps she is struggling to lay down her rights as an individual human being -- because, after all, it isn't just "me" or "you" anymore; it's "us." Her life is no longer her own. She is now one with her bridegroom, and the rest of her life will now be spent becoming more and more "one" with him. One day, as a wiser, more experienced bride, perhaps with a few children and grandchildren under her wing, she will gaze into the eyes of her beloved bridegroom and think about all the storms they weathered together, all the moments they shared together, all the life that they still have to look forward to together.

But for now, she's making dorky mistakes like burning her first pot of beans, making her bridegroom gain weight with her unnecessarily fattening breakfasts, and shorting out her vacuum cleaner because she kept clumsily smacking it against the furniture.

You think I'm making this stuff up?

So, while I'm waiting for my Jesus to come back for me, I'm enjoying Him cleansing me with His word. He's promised that He'll be faithful to complete the work that He started in me. And He's definitely worth the wait. I truly appreciate Him more than I can "express."