The Church is a "Com-Bus"

  It's been four years since my church blew up and I was unceremoniously dismissed from the place I had served for forty years as youth director, worship leader, trustee, and missions director, among other things.  I had most recently served on the board of directors by virtue of my position as Elder of Missions and Evangelism when the new pastor told me, "Maybe it would be better if you didn't come at all; you're seen as a divisive person here." (yes, I'm actually quoting him).  I've got to hand it to him; it takes balls to actually ask a life-long leader in your church to quit coming.  He and the other leaders - right up to the district superintendent - had become fed-up with my constant challenges of the status quo.  I guess I should be happy - at least I didn't suffer the same fate as John the Baptist (actually, I am happy; I might still be there if I hadn't been asked to leave).

  One of my challenges to the system surrounded the inability or unwillingness of the church to get down and get dirty with the lost in our neighborhood and around the world.  We existed only to perpetuate our own comfort and our traditions.  We were all about protecting our way of life inside the four walls of the church and our denomination.

  I had seen a vision of what we were, and it was a rather unsettling picture.  I had actually awakened one morning and, still half asleep, an image was brightly projected on the screen of my mind, along with a knowledge of what it meant.  The picture I saw was what I later named the Com-Bus.  It was a large machine moving slowly through a wheat field, and the main chassis of the beast was a large combine, a harvester with a huge cutting head at the front, but there were two things unique about this machine.

  First of all, the cutting bars and the rakes were not moving; they were either shut off or disconnected so that, though the machine was moving over the ground, there was nothing being harvested.  The grain was just being flattened by the large wheels of the monster.

  The second odd thing about this harvesting machine was that the grain hopper behind the cab had been replaced with a bus body so that there were actually seats for several dozen riders.  Not only that, but as I looked closer, I could see that in fact the bus was full of people, but they were not just riding, they were worshipping.  There was a worship leader standing at the front and singing, and the whole crowd were singing along with hands raised and so entranced by the worship that none of them even glanced out the windows.

  If they had looked, they might have seen what I could see as a bystander: The rear emergency door was open and some of their participants - mostly high school graduates, I think - were carefully jumping from that exit and wandering away across the field, never to return to the vehicle again, so the crowd on the bus was slowly shrinking.

  This is where my vision ended and my troubles at church began.  Well, not really; I had been in trouble before for being the annoying elbow in the ribs that tries to awaken others to unpleasant hypocrisies of the system (We come from a long line that includes Martin Luther and a few other dissenters who are mostly all dead now).

  Now the most surprising thing that happened to me in the year following my vision, was that my wife and I, along with 150 other travelers, were also evacuated from the rear emergency door of that colossal machine.  And it wasn't a drill.

  So in the last five years since seeing this vision, I have changed locations and become an outsider, and my view of the realities is from a different perspective.  Mind you, nothing has changed about the church since I've left, nor is there any deviation in the obvious analogies about the huge harvesting machine that has transformed into a self-contained worshipping machine that was actually crushing the ripening grain onto the ground as it lumbered ahead.  And like most graduating seniors, I'm glad I'm on the outside now and do not intend to return.

  I am standing in the field with the other outsiders - both believers and nonbelievers - and have discovered that we really look very much like each other.  Like wheat and tares, I guess, and that's how the Lord said it will be until the end.  I have lately hung out with Mormons, former Catholics and Episcopalians, gays, atheists and "nones"* and have been able to spread the love of God in a less oppositional way than I ever did while functioning within the religious system.  It's a slow process, but more personal and authentic than before.  And more effective.

  I don't know how much longer the institutional Com-Bus will keep rumbling along.  The slow decline of organized religion in America is well documented, but I'm sure it will be around for a long time and still serves a valid purpose to insiders, I guess.  Gene Edwards, in his book Beyond Radical, says the decline started at the Reformation almost 500 years ago and that it will not be complete for another 300 years.  Sorry, I couldn't wait that long.

  The Great Commission has two parts: 1) Reach the Lost, and 2) Teach the Found.  The American church believes in both parts and preaches both parts, but only carries out Part Two.  This is partially because Part One can't be done from inside the walls like it could sixty years ago, and the church, for the most part, will not venture outside the walls.  In a gesture of wishful thinking - or delusion, every church marquee reads, "Everybody Welcome" to a world that passes by every day but will not come inside.

  And there's the rub:  The world will not come inside, and the church will not go outside.

  I guess it's up to outsiders to do the job.  For one thing, we are uninhibited by restrictive policies and denominational doctrines and hellish hierarchies and negative stigmas .  People aren't afraid of you when your only agenda is love.  Lots more could be written on that.  Later.

  Have a great day.  And be real.  And don't be afraid to challenge the status quo; it's not like you'll lose your head over it, although you could lose your comfortable religious world as you now know it.

* "Nones" are those mostly younger Americans who, when polled about religious affiliations, will check the box for "none".  They now make up 20% of the population.  The church will not/cannot reach them.