Christian Without the Church

I used to be a "Christmas Presbyterian": only attended church on Christmas Eve for the 7 p.m. candlelight service. This is known as the “C” in the “C and E” Christian moniker: those who attend church only on Christmas and Easter.

Then I became a mom, and began the obligation-motivated attendance of corporate church so as to “expose my children to religion.”

Then I moved to a new town, began attending a couple of churches, and became born again in Christ—not because of one church but because of the work of God on my person that included my connecting with a Bible study through a corporate church (a church which has since been through two implosions. I’ll get to that later).

Then, as a newby born-again, I took it upon myself to adopt the view that “C and E Christians” were lacking, in a big way. 

I arrived at this conclusion for two reasons: one, because that’s what I myself had been as a “C and E” church-goer and second, because, in my new Christian social groups, it was heralded as probably thee highest calling and therefore mark of a “true” Christian to attend church—not just occasionally or at the high holidays, but every Sunday (in some congregations, twice on Sunday) and then again on Wednesday nights.

I understand my wanting to give back to God through church attendance—thinking I could give back to God that way: 

“Look,” I told myself, “at all that God has done for me!” 

At that point, I didn’t know any better. 

Since then, I have come to marvel in humble gratefulness at God’s mercy and grace towards and upon me, quoting often David in 2 Samuel 7:18:

“Who am I, O Lord GOD, and what is my house, that you have brought me this far?”

Thankfully, I now know that there is nothing I can do to complete this transaction with God. 

This realization is where I positively turned the corner.

Many years of church involvement later—including the attending of Christian seminary—God continues that broad place of discernment and the ability to decide in my own heart and mind (Romans 14)—counseled by His Spirit and authority—that the number of times a person attends church per week, or whether they attend at all, is neither here nor there with me. And it has never been more confirmed that it is neither here nor there with God either. 

“Therefore what you worship in ignorance, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and all things in it, since He is Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands; nor is He served by human hands, as though He needed anything, since He Himself gives to all people life and breath and all things; and He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their habitation, that they would seek God, if perhaps they might grope for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us; for in Him we live and move and exist, as even some of your own poets have said, ‘For we also are his children.’ Being then the children of God, we ought not to think that the Divine Nature is like gold or silver or stone, an image formed by the art and thought of man. Therefore, having overlooked the times of ignorance, God is now declaring to men that all people everywhere should repent, because He has fixed a day in which He will judge the world in righteousness through a Man whom He has appointed, having furnished proof to all men by raising Him from the dead” (Acts 17:23b-31). 

Church can provide vision, no doubt. 

But it can also, as it did me, cause people to miss the Christian forest for the religious tree.

After 19 years of living Christianity as a saved Christian, growing in the knowledge of the Lord, I have observed that those who attend church are often no better off in spiritual maturity than the next person, and, in fact, are often stilted in their growth by that very church attendance.

I know I was. 

Yes, the act of church helped in some ways (I am choosing to keep the active works of charity separate from this discussion of church attendance and its implied and promoted automatic connection with inner transformation and faith). 

Again, I am not advocating that people not go to church, or that they stop going. 

If church is working out in the lovely ways I know it has and continues to do for so many, with obvious transformation in their spiritual maturity, then I would posit that those folks already have a solid foundation in Christ, not dependent upon their church or the attendance thereof.

But for many others, such as myself, church became a crutch, a “Well, at least I went to church this Sunday” excuse for lazy or poser Christian living every other day of the week.

My churchy activities and the whirlwind of busyness in that capacity were the very thing I used to justify my failure to faithfully and intentionally apply what I was reading in Scripture to my inner thoughts and attitudes. It is those attitudes which in turn produce undesirable reactions and behaviors, in which, at the time, I was excelling.

And then there was the near-militant, peer-pressured atmosphere of denominational or evangelical church-sermon preaching, and the congregation that hungrily and apparently unquestioningly ate up.

So if, for example, one is in a liberal church, one must sit through and subscribe to, not a sermon on holiness, but a political diatribe, often stamped as a call to “social justice.”

If in a conservative church, one must listen to a repeated lament of the “culture” and feel compelled to join “small group” studies of books written by the latest evangelical pop author.

And then, after all of that, inevitably the church of one’s attendance implodes internally, either closing down entirely or breaking off into factions. The members “leave” the church and maybe start or join a new one more to their liking, or forgo corporate church altogether.

Many Christians have told me, 

“No place or church is perfect.” 

Yes, that is true, but why is it that in my own personal experience—either witnessing or hearing about it from close friends—that the Christian church contains the same, and often more, dissension and pride than secular organizations? 

It dawned on me that I didn’t have to look too far for the answer: 

Me and people like me, dependent upon church to make them Christian, forgoing the personal investment of walking and being discipled one-on-one by God through Jesus Christ and His Spirit. 

So there I was, this avid church-goer, loyal to the corporate church but not to Jesus; intent on making a fine and gregarious appearance every Sunday, but failing to tow that same line at home, or in my daily attitudes.

I had uncovered the crux of the problem: the incessant, time-honored compartmentalization of church that says:

“I can be ‘Christian’ for a few hours on Sunday, and then I’m ‘good to go.’”

Well, I wasn’t good to go, and must’ve sensed it all along, because I was not at peace or comfortable in corporate church, nor was I content with my outside life, even though I was a Christian.

The joke was on me, but I was finally done fooling myself. 

So I left church behind and began the spiritually and life-affirming adventure to live sequestered from religion in general and church in particular. 

Again, if the person reading this has a totally different—positive—track record with church—I accept and acknowledge that.

What I aim to flesh out here is the very large, yet ignored, elephant in the room that the mere concept and existence of corporate church, handed down in its pretty-much unchallenged format for hundreds of years, is not the litmus test for determining and estimating anybody’s faith or dedication to and belief in God and Christ. 

In short, the curated standard of Christendom—the church and its authority over and grip upon people of faith—ought not to be the standard and was never intended by God to be.

Jesus and the living out daily of His walk, regardless of whether we ever set foot in a church, is the Gospel, the only standard.

Church—the denomination we align with, the building we sit and perhaps even flourish in, in spite of its many beneficial (as well as detrimental) aspects, is in no way a reflection of or determiner at all of our actual character, integrity, compassion or wisdom. 

We are not made “good people” through the osmosis of church.

Coming to this place of honesty with myself and God, I could unabashedly admit that all of my church attendance, Sunday school teaching, committee memberships, and participation in church programming, was a facade.

I had been focused on church in lieu of how to actually read Scripture, mature in Christ and be increasingly transformed away from the sinner that I am.

So this Christmas, I, with a very clear conscience before God and man, join with the “C” Christmas Christians (and seekers and wanderers), to worship and celebrate, inside of a church, once a year, that all is well with my soul because Jesus was born there. 

Jesus was born: Not in a church. Not in a pastor. Not in a creed. Not in a law. Not in a synod. Not in a denomination. But outside of all of that. 

Inside of us.

As a baby, raised up by God to be the Savior. 

Of me and of you. 

No mediator. 

No building.

No membership class to take first. 

Free. 

For the taking.

His gift to each one of us. Here and now. Between us and Him.

That simple.

Jesus.

Lord of Lords.

King of Kings.

Wonderful Counselor.

Mighty God.

Everlasting Father.

Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6).

Copyright Barb Harwood

Respecting Friendship Enough to Let it Go

Often in life, many misunderstandings, hurt feelings and antagonistic responses could be entirely avoided if we had the maturity and integrity to respect someone instead of demanding that we understand them.

So, for instance, if a friend seems “distant” but doesn’t want to go into the details about it with us, can we, out of love for them (the love we are always signing our cards with, and implying in our relationship)—can we love them enough to respect them and their need/preference/choice to be “distant” without their providing any further information? Can we give people their space, in whatever form that takes (as long as it isn’t life threatening or injurious to themselves or others?)

Many well-meaning folks have misconstrued their own need to be affirmed and confided in as “compassion for others” and “putting other people first.”

In reality, when we demand that people “open up” to us, “be honest” with us,” and “come to us with every aspect of their lives,” what we’re often insisting upon is not being shut-out. We want to be the “in” person, and we want any doubts about ourself assuaged by their constant reassurance that we are one of the most important people in their life.

In the end, what this means is that our relationship with the other person has been built upon a form of admiration that prioritizes us being admired, highly regarded and called upon. We want to be needed and spent time with at the cost of recognizing the other person’s boundaries and desires.

True friendship, however, is a two-way street, and the minute one person asserts themself with a new need, way of looking at things or interacting, and the other person’s only response is to take it personally in the negative, then the true colors of that relationship come flying through: the “friendship” was never about two people, but one.

A true friend does not have the right to put a friend on the defensive in the name of “trying to understand” them, or to “get to the bottom” of what might be bothering them or causing this new development in the friendship. 

This is merely a desperate manipulation to commandeer the friend “back to the way things were,” hoping to sabotage the source of the distance in the friendship. 

If it works, the other person is no longer a friend, but a doormat (most likely with the ending of the friendship only postponed to a later date). 

If it doesn’t work, what could have ended in mutual honor and dignity implodes in self-centered hostility.

A true friend, and friendship, however, will operate out of the wisdom and love to respect one another, even if one friend is changing to the point that they are putting distance in the friendship. 

The difficult question is, can we allow another person to grow out of friendship with us without the closing credits being a melt-down? 

Can we let a friend set themselves free if that is what they truly want and need? 

Can we keep the door open (by being respectful) without the expectation that the friend will ever walk through that door again?

The reality is, many dating relationships, marriages, sibling connections and yes, even friendships, end, or, at minimum, go through a time of testing and need for space.

If we think we are entitled to keep a friend beyond their desire to be in a close relationship with us, we perhaps have answered our own question as to what kind of friend we’ve really been all along—the kind whose main priority and focus has been ourself.

From a Biblical perspective, the Godly call in tough situations such as the need for a friend to have space, without explanation, is to “clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.'” (1 Peter 5:b, quoting Proverbs11:31)

It is this God-ordained and instilled humility that allows us to fulfill His other call—that of, “so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men” (Romans 12:18).

If people do not want to provide explanations, then our cornering them or reacting hyper-sensitively out of self-absorption will not lead to peace, because coercion is never a humble stance to take. 

The stance of humility, on the other hand, does lead to and maintain peace because it shows proper respect to everyone (1 Peter 2:17). 

The thing that leads to dissension and anger among people is the refusal to respect, to agree to disagree and not insist on our own way (1 Corinthians 13:5). 

Losing a friend, or experiencing a change in the dynamic of a relationship, can be difficult, sad and painful. But when received and accepted with respect out of a Godly love for the other person, we come to an inner and outer peace in the truth that

“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—“(Ecclesiastes 3:1).

If we read the entirety of Ecclesiastes 3, we come to appreciate the ebb and flow of life, including the ebb and flow of relationships among a constantly morphing people. 

Only then will we love—not only the other person as a child of God, but ourselves as a child of God—enough to respectfully let the friendship run its course, even if that course has culminated in the friendship's final resting place. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

New Beginnings

What is a new beginning, other than the starting, once again, from the place where we are?

We can jettison the material circumstances, people, and places that up to this point have proved to be beneficial for rooting out sin in the way a grain of sand shines up a pearl….but we can also retain what continues to be helpful, encouraging, patient, and fortifying. We can separate the wheat from the chaff, and learn how to manage, going forward, both.

Beginning afresh means embarking each day with the curated understanding that not honoring red flags—ignoring them out of some mistaken sense of “spiritual should” or sentimental hope or unassertive kindly amiableness—as we did in the past—only anchors us to what was never have supposed to have been in the first place: obligations that were not responsibilities, commitments that were not a two-way street, toxic people we interpreted as us being the problem, when it was, all along, them (or at minimum, not just us). 

Our fresh start from today involves facing into reality: the ways we probably are not going to change because we aren’t supposed to change: general personality and demeanor, the foundational atoms that, all connected, make us who we are as individual souls.

But it also lets go of the parts of ourselves that have done damage, that were the train wrecks of life, that didn’t know what they didn’t know until they knew it. 

We open the airplane door and let this pernicious stuff descend without a parachute: to disappear into it’s rightful demise, never to be revisited again. 

We chuck immunity from immaturity, generating room now only for that which is being refined by the chisel of a source outside of ourselves and separate from the world around us.

We carry on, in other words, not as automaton-slaves with the mindset, “this is what Christians do, or what spiritual people do” (Romans 8).

Instead, we venture into yet another day with the vision of honed discernment, wisdom and logic, bathed in a warmth that gets, finally, what love is because love has been stripped down to its pure source: God Himself, His Son and His Holy Spirit. 

All those years of mixing love up: me, God, others, the corporate denomination that gathered in a building under a human authority, neighbors, peers, Jesus, family, the Holy Spirit….a tangle of allegiances and expectations coming from all camps! All of it generically thrown under the umbrella of “love.”

God, however, created me—all of us—not just in love but in logic, in a way that made sense to Him, so it can also make sense to me—to us. 

So then, all of life makes sense, and is sense, including love. Love is sensical because God is sensical.

Jesus gives us sight: he heals the blind, not so that we continue on in a new form of blindness but to proceed now with His vision, clarity and intelligence—His sense—which, in the end, is not very common; not common at all. 

Jesus’ uncommon sense is not sentimental, it does not subscribe to the motivation, “I’ll do this even though every fiber in my being is protesting that something here is not right.”

Jesus came so that we would have life, and have it to the full (John 10:9-10).

A full life, what is it? 

Is it, as many in Christendom seem to teach, a life only of sacrifice and incessant trial and error, never following what we sense is right and that passes with flying colors when tested against God and Scripture (1 Thessalonians 5:19-22; 1 John 3:21)?

How many folks are “serving God” miserably because they don’t want to be where they are, or with the people they’re with, but slog on because they are, in their immature mindset, earning their Christian stripes? When what they really want to do is pushed aside because it seems too pleasing, too selfish, too wonderful?

God’s Sabbath is a permanent rest that came with His creation. His sabbath is not a Saturday or a Sunday or one day, period. It is all of the time: the minute we enter His inner sanctuary through Christ we enter the sabbath (Hebrews 4).

That rest, the resting in God through Christ and His Spirit, means joy and increasing perfection of His love and logic in us: to, unashamed, since only God is good, have a Godly good time down here on this earth He created; to experience fully His joy by permitting the new heart, mind and spirit He has given us (Ezekiel 36:26-27; 2 Corinthians 3:3). 

And guess what? That means that we won’t always have chemistry with people simply because they are Christian. We will not be called to one specific mountain or mate. We will no longer crave human admiration and lower ourselves to self-promotion—often, in the past, camouflaged as humility as we served in our community of faith. 

We will no longer be the ones denying ourselves out of ill-conceived human and self-constructs (even Christian spiritual self-constructs).

All of that is over. Done. Finished. 

Through Christ, we deny the nonsensical and grow the sensical.

Dallas Willard writes:

“We need to understand that Jesus is a thinker, that this is not a dirty word but an essential work, and that his other attributes do not preclude thought, but only insure that he is certainly the greatest thinker of the human race: ‘the most intelligent person who ever lived on earth.’ He constantly uses the power of logical insight to enable people to come to the truth about themselves and about God from the inside of their own heart and mind.” Dallas Willard, from his essay, Jesus the Logician.

It is in that acumen that we are free now to go where Jesus has desired us to go all along.

No longer will we be ignorant of temptations to strive in selfish ambition, but instead can flick them away as the fruitless attempts to earn the admiration of Christ and other Christians that they are. 

We will exchange our previous incorporation of ourselves into every aspect of life—even into our faith—exiting that bankrupt condition in favor of His camp, His outpost, His circulation, His embodiment.

That is the way to the effectual, ongoing change necessary to imbue each new day with just a little bit more birth than the day before. 

It is an underlying, continual birthing now sealed with Christ’s authentic humility, quiet exuberance, contentment, and yes, logic, not caring one iota about who sees and whether anyone  approves, free of all expectations, filled only with His today. 

“Today if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts…” (quoted in Hebrews 3:7).

What is a new beginning? 

It’s starting, once again, from the place where we are, only this time, with the articulation of Christ permeating. 

Copyright Barb Harwood