At the church I was visiting this morning a fellow was talking about a conversation he’d had with his brother who’s not a believer.

They were sharing the regular stuff about car trouble and sickness going through the family, until the one brother said to the other:

“It really doesn’t make any difference, does it?”

“What”

“Your being a Christian. You’re going through all the same junk that I am. What good is Christianity?”

And I loved the Christian brother’s response. He told his brother there is this verse in scripture (Corinthians 1:17) that points out:

In Him (Christ) all things hold together.

And there it is right there.

We Christians don’t claim to be better people, and we’re not saying going to church instantly fixes everything.

We’ve just found the One that can hold it together, and are learning to live on the strength He provides.

~ ~ ~

I get so disappointed sometimes when I hear people talking negatively about “the church.”

Part of that is because it is my culture (know any other peoples with a strong sense of culture that enjoy it being minimized or maligned?).

Part of that is because I know the complainers frequently are griping based on a stereotype.

And part of my let-down is that the “culture at large” seems to expect us to be better than them, somehow. Really.

I wonder what people expect the church to do. On the one hand they say, “Don’t judge me.”

Which is fine: Paul, one of the major (human) writers of the New Testament, basically said the behavior of those outside the church wasn’t his concern as a spiritual leader, it was those inside.

Then, with the next breath, these people who want to be let alone judge those they see, saying (it seems) “How dare you be imperfect?” (I think we all know Christians don’t have the corner on hypocrisy. Just the spotlight.)

It was Jesus himself who said,

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

This is what the pastor talked about this morning: the church being imperfect.

He quoted Philip Yancy (I should have asked which book, because I didn’t recognize this) when he pointed out three humiliations Jesus had to endure:

1. Becoming a human baby (and all the helpless ignominy that includes).
2. To die on a cross like a common criminal; a sinless man with all the wrath of God heaped upon him for the sin of the world.
3. To leave his representation and reputation in the hands of fallible, sinful people.

~ ~ ~

People sin. People do stupid things. People do things that wreck their own lives and wound those around them.

And Christians are people.

The whole reason true Christians are in church, the reason we’ve submitted ourselves to the Lordship of Christ, is because we know we don’t have it all together.

We’ve usually proven to ourselves and to others that we’re not capable of getting it together.

And that is why we look outside of ourselves.

He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.

For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him.

And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

Colossians 1:13-17

The phrase was said sorrowfully in a warm Nigerian accent– all the O’s very open. The words and inflection sent a thrill of small horror through me.

I’ve read the expression before, of course, but I’d never before heard it spontaneously in conversation. The hugeness of what it signified hit me as it never has in print.

Here was a believer, awestruck at the evil encountered in an individual, and her instinctive reaction was both to recognize the destruction he was sowing and invoke perhaps the only possible response of a believer watching from the outside.

I suppose it is used as an exclamation more than a prayer for most people. And I’d even assume that many of the other people who say it are not particularly interested in the eternal reward of the transgressor. But it’s made me think: of how Jesus prayed for Peter, and all the stories of restoration I’ve read.

God is so much bigger than our wants or dislikes that maybe an instinctive reaction like this, even if it is thoughtless, can be healthy. Perhaps we give too much emphasis to the idea of being always “present” and consciously choosing what we do.

That is good for a beginning, but what if some things were better not to think of?

To use the analogy of a child learning how to walk: It is right and natural for him or her to focus all thought and energy on mastering the cooperation of muscles. It is silly and a waste of time (or symptomatic of worse problems) to continue that level of focus as an adult.

If I can invoke or train some muscle memory to maintain right-thinking, isn’t that a healthier way to live than having to think and decide every time if I’m going to, say, pray about a problem? Or be joyful?

My best example says yes. Thankfulness is one thing I almost never have to think about.

I’m convinced this has something to do with how I was raised, and how we watched God provide for us. Not the enforced thank-you notes, though. Sorry. Still hit-and-{late} on those.

If my kids are able to say there is one virtue that comes naturally as the result of their upbringing, I will feel a huge measure of success.

But thankfulness to God is instinctive for me.

I am continually floored at his timing and provision. The thanks is on my lips as soon as I stumble– because I didn’t fall, or I didn’t hit the ground baby-first (true story). I am grateful beyond words when God plants something in my husband’s heart along with mine, so neither of us has to convince the other of anything.

And my thanks comes automatically, with awe and delight at the hugeness of God and His ways.

Wouldn’t it be amazing and wonderful to be that instinctive with forgiveness and mercy too? To remember that the monster who probably deserves Man’s death penalty is still one of those Jesus died for, and one He would rejoice to redeem.

I don’t think my walk is that well-trained yet, but I begin to wonder if I’m too old to teach myself to pray, to say– if nothing else as a reminder to myself that it was the purpose of Jesus coming–

God have mercy on his soul.