photo : flickr cc/ jumpingjimmyjava
We have just enough religion to make us hate one another but not enough to make us love one another. – Jonathan Swift
This isn’t a post where I’ll shame the church I met Jesus in. And it won’t be a post where I call out the imperfections of a single church in comparison to another. It will be a post where I admit my part in watching churches go sour. I wish it weren’t true but I’ve watched the church go south.
I’ve watched leadership manipulate members for selfish purposes. I’ve watched leadership bend the truth. I wonder now about the role I played in that. Because I was as an enabler. By saying nothing, going along with the program to keep the peace, I sanctioned the mistreatment of congregants. Under the guise of respect for authority I gave my nod of agreement, a non-verbal acquiescence to misconduct.
All of this went on for years…until it changed me.
Small churches are notorious for big time family drama. Familiarity breeds contempt. And our close family like relationships bred all the “crazy uncle drama” you can imagine. When family members were turned against each other or people were shunned for not going along with the program… I still watched from the sidelines. I even took part in shaming when I felt obligated to disclose someone else’s sin. I was never so free with sharing my own.
That’s when I knew something was wrong…my behavior had begun to change. I’d become a judgmental Jesus freak.
In as much as church is the ideal setting for believers to walk out His word… it’s also a Petrie dish of problems.
