I signed dozens of letters last week to accompany financial statements that reflect how much a person gave to our church in 2017. Once the letters were in the mail, I started to focus on my own statement, and especially the words printed at the bottom. They are a disclaimer that is likely required by law, "Unless otherwise noted, the only goods or services provided are intangible religious benefits." It sounds simple enough. And yet, these words have been provoking countless questions within me.
What are the intangible religious benefits our church provided last year?
In what did people invest their resources?
How did people benefit from the ministries of MVP?
New York Times bestselling author Brene Brown preached at Washington National Cathedral on Sunday. Her remarks resonate deeply with me. I see organized religion (the negative word for "church") providing people with numerous reasons to give up on it all together. But I also deeply need the gifts she speaks of. I desperately need the church - and especially the church at its best.
Each week I gather with people I might not choose to spend time with if given the choice. There are people who see things very differently than me, and some of them are not afraid to tell me about it. But I have yet to grow, let alone be transformed, if I am only spending time with people who think like me. Like Brene, I want to pass the peace with people who disagree with me, to receive their deepest desire for peace in my life while I wish the same for them. I believe this happens every Sunday at MVP.
Our church last year embarked upon a powerful journey of learning about racial justice. Throughout the year I gathered with people to read books I likely would have never read on my own, and many of these books transformed me. But the conversation about them transformed me even more. Paul wrote to the Romans, "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God - what is good and acceptable and perfect." It is in reading, discussing and praying with others that my mind as been transformed, and also that I have been able to more faithfully discern what is the will of God, particularly when it comes to racial justice in our nation. I would never take this journey on my own, but I am more committed than ever to be an agent of change when it comes to racial justice because of the people who journey with me.
If I have just one sermon to preach, it is "you are beloved." I seek to speak these words as often as I can - not only because I believe others need to hear them, but also because I need to hear them. We are battered and bruised throughout the week, constantly given invitations to question our worth and sometimes our humanity. I need to gather with people who remind me that I am beloved. And I long to be part of raising children who know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they are deeply beloved by me, by our church, and especially by God. I hear this message at church more than anywhere else.
I also need a visual aid of what it looks like for all to be welcome and no one turned away. Our American culture preaches the myth of scarcity - that there will never be enough - tempting people to cling tightly to what they have, to build walls, to protect the resources of the rich at the expense of the poor. But the table of our Lord is one place where all are given the exact same amount of bread and all are satisfied. I need to come to this table and see how there is always more than enough. I long to see replicas of the eucharistic feast throughout our city, and I pray our church encourages such places and patterns of behavior through how we serve and care for others.
Like Brene, I also need to sing with others. I don't sing much throughout the week, let alone with dozens of other people. Last night, a very small group of individuals gathered for a Monday worship experience. There were five of us standing around the piano as worship began, belting our words of praise through song. In many eyes, the gathered crowd might be perceived as a failure because they were so easy to count. But in singing together, we learned that wherever two or more are gathered, God is with us. I need to be reminded I am not alone - never alone. The church has a powerful way of walking with people - through casseroles delivered in sickness, through emails or notes that simply say "I'm praying for you," and through voices lifted in harmony and song. Where else do you sing together in a way that lifts your spirits and reminds you that you're not alone?
But I most need the church because I've learned it's impossible to follow Jesus on my own. From the beginning, Jesus has surrounded himself with ordinary people who he has given authority to do extraordinary things. We cannot become the fullness of who we are called to be on our own. We need people who show us how to selflessly serve others, how to increase our faith, how to keep on showing up even when we are struggling, and countless other things.
What are the intangible religious benefits you receive from church? I pray a few are able to roll immediately from your tongue. And if not, will you come sing with me on Sunday?