Why We Go

So this entry is at least partially stolen from -- sounds much better to say "inspired by" -- the sermon I heard this morning. The question that needs to be asked today, or at least was asked by my priest is, "Why do we go?" As in, why do we get up every Sunday and make our way to worship when there are so many other things that compete for our time and attention?

Clearly, the world is chasing any number of pursuits that in no way involve a church building, a body of believers and the gospel. And even many of those who once darkened the doors of the sanctuary have since turned away to invest themselves somewhere else.

Statistics paint a grim picture of declining attendance and the cynics tell us that while people aren't coming much now, the trend shows that they'll continue to come less and less unless something changes.

The modern church is putting effort into reversing the cycle. Unfortunately, its efforts to present itself as more relevant to the culture can have dangerous side effects . . . like surrendering the battle to get people to adapt their lives to the holiness and sanctity of God in order to, in practice if not in belief, adapt God to suit the state of the people.

In this light, why do those of us who continue to be faithful, continue? Certainly our primary concern cannot be simply to maintain viable community, although community is necessary to the life offered in Christ -- "Christianity is about personal relationship, but it is not a private relationship," as I've heard it said.

I would argue that our goal is the pleasure of God, and in walking in faithfulness and consistency to offer our lives for His pleasure, we amazingly find our pleasure, our wholeness.

As we continue in obedience to go . . . our proclamation becomes that there is One who died in love for us all, and to live in response to and empowered by that Resurrection love, we find the deepest joy, peace, rest and purpose available to the human heart.

To me, this is salvation that transforms here and now, rather than there and later (although, it does that, too). And this is hope for the lost, the least and the longing. We go so that our lives might become signs to direct them. May they come. May they come back.