Welcome to #ATLT, At the Lord’s Table: A Conversation, a series of over 50 posts from varying authors about the beautiful, mangled Church. Look for at least two new posts every Monday through Saturday between January 25th and February 22nd. Join us in the conversation? See you in the comments.
“Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” 1 Cor. 13:12
I grew up in a mega-church in a mega city. Throughout my time there, I built the church up in my head as quickly as it built new campuses. I saw it as this gigantic tool that would change my friends into Christ followers and therefore make my life a little happier, make my big city a little more pleasant to live in. Its leaders emphasized the importance of getting all my non-Christian friends to church. “Look!” they’d say, “We have free food. We have loud music and shiny lights and funny games. We’ve done the work for you. You just have to bring them.” But what they used to entice new comers was exactly what those new comers received: a show. And the moment the show was over and the altar call had promised new youth group members, they were encouraging us to bring a fresh set of visitors to the next event. It was all about growing our numbers, not growing our faith. So for most of my pre-college life, I felt like my identity in Christ failed to be determined by His promises, His commands, His grace. It was determined by how well I could play hostess at church.
One can imagine that after “being a Martha” for so many years, the estranged feelings college often brings hit me hard. My loneliness led to a deep depression and an even stronger sense of anxiety. And though I felt the church should be my refuge, I had no clue how to interact with it anymore. I was now the new comer… and the shows and altar calls and pretty lights didn’t offer me the community I desperately needed. I grew bitter and more isolated.
Then, I stumbled across a group of people very different than me. They were Christians devoted to the Lord. But they didn’t love Him loudly with cutting edge technology and pizza. They loved Him somberly, through the words of tradition and the taking of the Eucharist.
Anyone who knows me could tell you that I am not naturally a disciplined person. The idea of spiritual discipline was nonexistent (in my mind) until college, and when this changed, I wasn’t exactly thrilled. In fact, I was downright resistant. But I was also sick of myself and of my isolation. I needed to know that my relationship with God did not depend on my broken soul’s ability to be a recruiter for His church. The spiritual disciplines encouraged by this new church seemed to connect it to something much larger than myself, and somehow even larger than my old church’s 5 bursting campuses. Slowly but surely, I am learning how to indulge in these disciplines the church offers; I am learning how to be a Mary. Now I can see how the church, through spiritual discipline, holds me accountable to grow in my own faith. In short, it enables me to undergo and endure the Refiner’s fire.
The Bible talks a lot about God’s refining fire. If you know anything about purifying gold, you know this is an extremely difficult process- from the blasting the gold from the depths of the earth, to the adding acids to break away the impurities, to the patiently waiting for it all to melt, to molding it into something useful. Every piece of gold is different, and that’s part of what makes being a goldsmith so difficult. You don’t need me to explain the obvious points of this metaphor. However, I will leave you with this true little story:
A man once asked a goldsmith, “If every piece is different, then how do you know when the gold is done, when its ready to be pulled from the fire?” The goldsmith said, “Well, every good goldsmith knows that the gold is done when he can see his reflection in it.”
Perhaps then church and its spiritual disciplines exist to not only point us to our mighty, graceful God, but also as a tool to mold us into a people that reflect the image of our God unto the world. That kind of growth is what truly matters. And if we (empowered by the Holy Spirit) reflect the love and goodness of Christ in such a dark place, what better recruitment could the church possibly ask for?
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read the post before this one, here.
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Jaclyn Drake
Jaclyn Drake is from the middle of Houston, Texas, though she currently resides in Waco as a senior at Baylor University. She is a University Scholar major studying English and dramatic literature. Her biggest passions include photography, telling stories, traveling, hammocking, and a wonderful thing called dramaturgy. Jaclyn takes any excuse to drink hot chocolate and eat popcorn with friends. Oxford, the ocean, and the Rodin Sculpture Gardens in Paris are amongst her favorite places in the world. She hopes to one day be a teacher or professor in Houston, though her journey there is still a mystery and sure to be an adventure.
© 2012, Preston. All rights reserved.
