I was leaving a special worship service tonight planning to get home, eat dinner and write a nice blog about Newsboys lyrics I find inspiring. But just as I was leaving, God sent me a much more interesting blog topic.
I’m walking up the aisle, almost out the door, and this absolute fruitcake with a buzz cut and thick glasses over his beady little eyes accosted me. Apparently, he was one of God’s messengers. He spotted me at some point during the service while I was either praying or worshiping. (You know doing the sort of thing one is supposed to do during a worship service.) Well, he saw me and I guess the spirit of God just hit him and he knew he had to come talk to me to deliver a message right after the service.
It appears God wants me to know that I need to take my hands out of my pockets when I worship. I guess they should be flying from side to side in the air while I hop from one foot to another. I suppose I could, if my Creator asked me to. I wasn’t aware that hopping and gyrating around like a little jackrabbit made the Almighty view me as higher than His other worshipers, but I suppose I could try it. I mean, I don’t want to get struck by lightning or catch a disease or anything. Also, God knows I have some secret sins that I need to confess in my “prayer closet.” God would like to use me in some very powerful ways that only He knows, but He can’t use me until I submit to Him. When I submit, my hands will come out of my pockets.
I kindly thanked the messenger, who’s breath smelled like Altoids. I know the exact smell because his tongue was practically lashing my nose. My wife tells me I was backed up as far as possible with my head back as far as it could go without me falling over, and the man was still an inch-and a half from my face. Anyway, he went on about his way. He never asked for my name and never offered his.
He was very concerned about me. Felt passionate about my worship habits. The man was clearly worried about my spiritual well-being. Of course, he was not concerned enough to find out my name, or ask anything about me. He just performed a little hit and run, a drive by “word-of-knowledge.” I shrugged, chuckled and moved on.
My wife is angry. She’s cute when she’s angry. But I’ve come to expect this type of behavior from other Christians. What kills me is that I’ve never seen this person. I go to a large church. This man doesn’t know me and I don’t know him. We’ve never even done the obligatory Sunday morning handshake before. He just came up to me because he felt led of the spirit to deliver a message to me. He didn’t try to get to know me before approaching me about my spiritual failings. He didn’t even bother to learn my name.
What if I had been visiting the church? What if I wasn’t a believer? Would I have returned to the church? Would I ever have run to the God this man claims as his?
If he had bothered to ask, I would’ve told him my name is Brian, that I have been struggling lately because of my wife’s health, and I haven’t really been praying much because it is hard to approach God in the midst of suffering, but that tonight during worship I prayed earnestly and honestly for the first time in weeks, and when I left I was feeling so much more free than I had in weeks.
He didn’t ask. He didn’t care. He saw me as a target.
I’m quiet and insecure by nature. As far as I can tell, it isn’t related to any specific un-confessed sin in my life. It’s just how I’ve always been and I don’t really have much ability to control it. I’ve struggled with insecurity my entire life and it isn’t because I’m hiding anything, I just don’t have much confidence.
I already have a lot of neurosis about the church. I tend to lock up because I know that the tendency for most Christians is to find ways to judge instead of ways to love, so from the moment I step through church doors my guard goes up. I go to church because I need God and I know I can’t make it in this world without someone to pick up the pieces whenever I screw up. I don’t go for fellowship because, by and large, I’ve given up on hollow accountability and judgmental “friendship.”
For those who are concerned about me not having enough good fellowship, I do have a small group that I love dearly. They’re not like the man who approached me today. They are wonderful and I’m OK with them because they’ve taken the time to get to know me. They know my name and they care about me. When I fall, they come alongside me and love me. That kind of depth is how I think followers of Christ should relate to one another and to those outside our faith. Shallow encounters with complete strangers aren’t at all loving and they kind of make one look like a freak.