For five seconds today, I was absolutely sure the reason there is not one church on God’s green-blue earth that will ever be Everything I Dream For Church To Be is that every other Christian sucks.
If every other Christian on Planet Earth could just get on board with my theology, my doctrine, my Jesus, my agenda…we wouldn’t have all these problems glaring us in the face like my mom with the threatening raised eyebrow that one time I broke curfew. (Just that one time, I swear.) What is wrong with you people? Are you freakin’ blind? Can’t you see I’ve got this thing nailed down like Nosferatu’s coffin lid? I’m on it, I tell you! Get with the program! Tune in, toke up, leave it to me…
Like most seizures, this one passed quickly.
And all that was left was an inkling that forging the Church in my image is, perhaps…maybe…where I’m going wrong.
Just an inkling.
A little light in the dim recesses of my through-a-glass-darkly psyche.
That light, glimmery inkling morphed into a nauseating revelation. (I bet most revelations are vomit-inducing.) As long as I persist in dreaming a Church that is Everything I Dreamed For A Church To Be, I will never see – really see - the Church Christ is dreaming, forging, loving into being.
And so I repent. Again.
I turn away from the stupid dream that church is where everyone thinks like me (that would make it an Aly Party, not a Church). I turn away from the idolatry of Aly-Buddha (the fabulous religion in which I’m the Enlightened Bodhisattva – oh god, I miss those minutes). I turn instead toward the tattered, hodge-podge, outsider, can-she-really-be-wearing-that Bride of Frankenstein that Jesus seems to love so freakin’ much.
To each His own, I suppose.