If It Had Been Different by Hannah Grace M. Staton
What you are about to read was not easy for me to write. I was personally convicted as I wrote it, and it will probably have a similar effect on those who read it. Yet it is the message the Lord led me to share.
In the words that follow I share musings on the distance between the condition of the church today and what it was intended to be. I have found it easier to write these thoughts in the third person and in a somewhat metaphorical style, but I trust that the main messages will still come across.
One last note: I do not mean to bash all churches in general or criticize any church in particular. I simply desire for us all to reconsider our preconceived notions about what church should be in light of Scripture and honestly assess if there’s anything we need to change, all while acknowledging our deep need of God’s grace.
Let us begin. . .
Anastasia grasped the burnished bronze handle of one of the tall oak doors, opened it, and stepped inside the old church building. She had come here alone to think and pray.
As the door closed behind her with a soft thud, she stood and surveyed the cool, cavernous sanctuary dimly lit in shades of gray. She thought of those who had entered these doors before her. In the beginning, everyone had been welcome. All kinds of people had come: young and old, single and married, divorced and widowed, rich and poor, well-educated and barely educated, strong and weak, famous and obscure, skeptical and trusting. Black and white and all tones of brown, those with shady backgrounds and those who had been brought to church since before they were born―all flooded in until the church overflowed. Former prisoners had come and been set free from sin’s slavery. Addicts had come and received the power they needed to overcome their addictions. The stories of redemption were limitless.
For many within the walls at that time, the only thing they had in common was their love for Jesus. They formed a wonderfully diverse body under one glorious Head, whose guidance and grace they all relied upon daily. As they followed His leading and shared His love, their numbers grew and grew.
Yet over the years, things had changed. Churches became polarized, with believers of like kind gathering together and turning a cold shoulder to those who were different. Churches became less and less diverse as these subgroups grew more and more united in keeping strangers out. Even churches that retained some degree of diversity often segregated the different groups within each congregation, with cross-cultural and even intergenerational relationships becoming less and less common.
Anastasia decided to step down into the church’s basement, where fellowship meals and similar events were held. Upon arrival, she saw few signs that her bleak surroundings had been used for any such purpose recently. The cupboards were nearly bare, the table was dusty, no chairs could be seen, and spiderwebs hovered in the room’s corners. How sad, she thought. Believers in the early days had gathered regularly to break bread and share life. Around the table, friendships had been formed and deepened. Prayers had been offered. Tears and laughter had been shared. Issues had been confronted. Questions had been asked, and answers had been found. Stories had been told. Through it all, God’s people came to know Him and each other better. But this rich tradition had slowly eroded until only a few shreds remained, and the hunger for what had been lost was felt by all.
Anastasia ascended the stairs and entered the sanctuary once more. She began to walk along the center aisle, running her fingers along the ends of the pews as she went. A heavy, almost suffocating sense of doom seemed to hang in the air. Little wonder, she thought, since so many of the next generation has left. As a teenager herself, Anastasia could sympathize with those her age who had left the church or who wanted to leave. She understood their dissatisfaction and frustration with the church, which often promised much but gave little. The church promised to be a family where all were welcome, but so often it felt like an elite club for the initiated only. The church said that it had the answer to the world’s problems, but so many people in the church had the same problems as those in the world. For some, church just seemed irrelevant or unnecessary. On and on it went.
Yet for all its imperfections, Anastasia still knew deep down that she needed the church as much as it needed her. As a member of the church, she was a part of Christ’s body, and she had an important role to play. There was simply no substitute for the fellowship of her fellow believers, however, broken and breaking they might be. She had experienced hurt and healing in the church and marveled at its potential for both but in spite of all that, she knew that she didn’t want to walk away. This was her home, and this was her family. Forever. Nothing could change that.
Lost in thought, Anastasia nearly bumped into the white satin-covered table at the church’s altar. Oh yes, the altar. How could I have missed it?
She wasn’t the only one who had missed the altar. In the early days of the church, everyone knew that to be a Christian meant dying to self and sin and surrendering to God’s all-consuming will. Gradually that message had been softened to the point that now many professing Christians were comfortable with putting God in a box and only getting Him out to play with for a few hours on Sunday morning before putting Him back again, hoping to keep Him happy enough to bless them and not expect any more from them. They had largely lost sight of the one true living God and had replaced Him with a being they could handle. They had no problem editing God to suit their sensibilities rather than letting themselves be shaped by who He really is.
A few more steps up landed Anastasia at the clear plastic pulpit. She sighed deeply. The bold and fearless truth-tellers of the early church had largely been replaced by timid people-pleasers and brazen truth-twisters, much to the detriment of those under their care.
A thick layer of dust coated the charcoal-toned leather cover of the Bible lying on the pulpit. Anastasia sighed again. What had once been preached and proclaimed as the word of God was now treated like an old relic to be treated with mild respect at best and utter disdain at worst. Some parts were mostly either ignored or skimmed over, others were misused, and still, others were reinterpreted almost beyond recognition. To be sure, Anastasia didn’t understand some parts of the Bible herself, but she didn’t let that keep her from upholding all of it as God’s word.
As Anastasia stood and surveyed the empty pews from her vantage point on the platform and thought about all she had seen, her eyes misted over with tears. She began to pray silently, keeping her eyes open. Why, God? Why have You let Your church fall into such disrepair? The church is Your bride! Surely You see. Surely You know. Surely this must grieve Your heart.
An answer did not come right away. Anastasia continued to weep and look over the sanctuary. Suddenly ribbons of sunlight began to flutter through the stained glass windows, lighting the sanctuary with a brilliant gold glow. Anastasia gasped at the beautiful sight.
Then a single thought struck her: If it had been different, there would be no room for resurrection.
Breath and Bread
Just to be clear, I am not saying that the church today needs to be perfect, that the early church was perfect, or that the church will ever be perfect before Jesus returns. What I am saying is that the church today is far from where it should be, and it should be growing toward perfection.
God can use us in spite of (and often through) all our flaws, but we need to be available and willing vessels. We need to acknowledge our deep dependence on Him and our dire need for community. We need to return to our first love.
I am grateful that Christ doesn’t give up on His bride but relentlessly woos her back to Himself. Can you hear Him calling?
I don’t claim to be able to address and provide solutions for all of the church’s problems, but I will briefly say a couple of things that may help. I believe that we as the church need to reclaim the life-giving breath of the Holy Spirit’s presence and the life-sustaining bread of God’s word. First, we need to acknowledge the Holy Spirit (who has been sadly neglected in many of today’s churches) and allow Him to do His work of conviction and cleansing. We need to be open to His leading and sensitive to His voice.
Second, we need to restore God’s word to its rightful place. Besides acknowledging Jesus, the Living Word, as the way, the truth, and the life, we need to allow the Bible, God’s written word, to direct our lives and we need to obey God’s voice when He speaks to us through other means (other people, dreams and visions, and so forth).
Above all else, now and ever as always, we need God.
Hannah Grace M. Staton finds her identity first and foremost in being a beloved daughter of the King. Beyond that, she is a teenage writer, book reader, and music lover. Hannah Grace is passionate about church unity and writes about matters of living out one's faith.