A Love-Hate Kind of Relationship

“I hate the church.”

His words were harsh and almost haunting as we walked together through the thick morning fog. The man’s confession came from a simple question. “What do you do for a living?” he asked in his South American accent. “I’m a pastor,” I said. That’s all I said. And yet, it was enough to anger him to the point that his whole countenance changed, and he could growl through his clenched jaw, “I hate the church.”

On the inside I was thinking that I should have just told him I was a financial advisor. But out loud, I think my response shook him almost as much as his shook me.

“Me too,” I said, “Me too.” After letting that sink in for about 15 seconds, I continued, “but I also love her.”

I have a love-hate relationship with the church. I think I have felt that way for a long time, but the way I have thought about my relationship with the church has shifted. I used to love my vision for the church, and I used to hate those visions that didn’t cohere with mine. But I now understand that I am part of the good and the bad. 

My walking companion had no issue going into detail about all that he loathed about the church. It’s not my place to share his story, but it’s enough to say that he had a laundry list of his wounds. And after listening to him, I can’t say that I blame him. 

The church has been mean, often kicking the wounded while they were down. We have encouraged women to stay in abusive marriages. We have participated in the segregation of society. We have traded the gospel for a cheaper but more immediate power. We have given the cold shoulder to people who need, at a minimum, a warm embrace. 

While this has no doubt hurt our reputation as the church, there is a far more serious result. Our self-righteousness has given those around us an unhealthy, uncaring, and even unloving image of God. 

I don’t feel this flippantly or lightly. We, the church, have stolen God, the real God, from the world. We have replaced God with an idol, or at least some spiritual entity to give us justification for the life we think is best. We have created God in our image. And in doing so, we have weaponized the church. It’s no wonder my fellow pilgrim hates the church. And in that regard, I join him.

But I would continue, “but I also love the church so, so much.” If we peek under the idolatrous rock we have created, we find the beautiful bride of Christ. 

I love the church when the church is truly the church. I love the gathering of believers for worship. Listening to people join together in song, even when, or especially when, those around me give it their all even if they are still searching for the right note. I love the weekly celebration of the Lord’s Supper. There is such beauty in seeing the young and old, rich and poor, conservatives and liberals, unified in their brokenness shuffling forward together to experience the grace offered in the sacrament.

I love the church when she continues the ministry of Jesus. I recently was invited to witness a ministry being offered in our neighborhood. Christians from various churches and denominations partnered with non-Christians in order to feed those in need, to give them the opportunity to shower and receive new clothes, to have a place to receive mail, and to simply live in community. No Bible studies, no evangelism, just embracing and giving dignity to those on the margins.

I love the church when she disagrees well. While I lament our divisions, I have seen congregations who are able to love each other even while they might hold deep convictions that are in tension. 

I love the church when I see intergenerational engagement. I love watching our elderly members smile as young children almost knock them over in their race for cookies after morning worship. I love listening to the cries of infants and the frustrations of kids as they endure my sermons. I love listening to teenagers, often mine, trying to get out of Sunday School.

In short, I love the Spirit-filled community who continues the message of Christ by proclaiming the present and coming kingdom of God. There is nothing more frustrating and there is nothing more beautiful than the community of believers called the church.

A week or so later I finished my camino and was sitting in the cathedral in Santiago participating in the Pilgrim’s mass. To my surprise I saw my Brazilian friend across the aisle. He was weeping. Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight for the church, but my hope is that something stirred in his soul among God’s pilgrims that day that made him catch a glimpse of her beauty.