:: dear church ::

Dear Church,

It may surprise you... sometimes it surprises me... that I am where I am today.

That I can still say I love you.

And, after all of this, you deserve one really good love letter.

It's difficult to describe how much I love you, but I want to take a stab at it.

You personify what my life is about.

My love for you does me in every time. When someone describes their passion for you, every church-related moment of my lifetime swells to my memory and sends my heart into overdrive. I can't agree with them more when they speak of their love for you.

So I write you, Church, because despite your flaws and despite my affair with disillusionment, I love you.

I love you because you are brilliant. You started out, as this fragile little group of disciples that almost no one thought would succeed. Yet you emerged as a force to be reckoned with.

I love you, Church, because you're accessible. You refused to limit yourself to just one group of people. Every one gets a personal invitation to join you. Sure, there are some barriers remaining, but I’m putting my money on you, Church.

I love you, Church, because you take action. Despite entertaining Advent choirs and mouthwatering potluck dishes, you aren't interested in the hotel business where people rent your rooms just to rest in comfort. No. You work to punt people out into the community, as if you had forgotten that you ever had walls to keep them in. You reminded them, week after week, that Jesus' favorite verb was "go". And I hope we stay committed to revisiting this lesson as many times as necessary.

I love you, Church, because you're learning from your mistakes. Even when nobody's looking, you manage to carry your shame and regret without losing the ability to hold your head high.

I love you, Church, because you are tough. Fear cannot cripple your commitment. I am convinced that your examples of risk will become the rock upon which your future is built. You will prove, again and again, that hell will never prevail against you.

I love you, Church, because you're resilient. You've been portrayed from so many unflattering angles. You've been laughed at, accused, ignored and misused. But you always get up the next morning ready to press on toward the mark.

I love you, Church, because you've never satisfied with where you are. You are constantly revamping. You always push yourself, examine yourself and trying to improve yourself from week to week. I can't wait to see what you will become!

I think more than anything, Church, I love you because of your flexibility. You started simple, known as a little more than a group of friends who lived, ate and prayed together. You once stood on trendy loft floors and now stand under traditional stained glass windows. You take root in the houses of the ordinary people, and yet manage to occupy the coffeehouses, pubs and business around the city. God only knows where you'll be next.

And as if all of this were not enough, this part is hands-down what made me fall in love with you in the first place: you defied logic by transcending physical space. You show up in a world that is not defined by steeples or crosses or truckloads of bricks. You set up residence in community itself, presenting yourself in the sometimes building-less "togetherness". You are the community, even when the community only boasts two or three people.

I love you, because I am part of you. Because when my friends and I are teamed in Christ's mission, we are you.

So I write - first and foremost - because I love you.

I love you still. In fact, I somehow think I love you more.

There is something powerful about realizing that someone or something is not perfect and loving them anyway. Sometimes, love is all the reason a person needs to stay in contact.

So I leave you with this final message: 

I love you. Keep in touch.