In America, we have a church on every corner, yet we’re still looking for the power of God. Could it be that the power of God is found not in a place, but when the individual decides to die to themselves and become, not like Paul or John or Peter, but become the person God created them to be, here in this culture?
Now I’ve had a “Monopoly” phase, and I’m having a “Settlers of Catan” phase, and I’m beginning to see the differences.
I first saw the differences last week when I won a game of Catan and realized it wasn’t that gratifying. Sure I was the first one to get 10 victory points (or 12 in Seafarers Catan), but it seemed so anticlimactic. After all, in Monopoly, the winner not only wins, but squeezes the “game life” out of every other player. In Catan, you cross a finish line, but you’re left with the feeling that if the game were one point longer, you would have lost. There seems to be all this uncertainty.
Which is what I sometimes feel about being a follower of Christ. Like most areas of my life, I’m looking to win somethng, or to be rewarded in some way because I’ve followed well, or unfortunately, I want to follow better than everyone else (mainly because of my competitive spirit).
Then I look at the life of Christ, and plainly see that winning and losing meant very little to Him. Oh we like to take Paul’s words in our American culture and use them to fit into our nice Christian systems and world views, but it seems to me that Christ couldn’t have given a rip about winning, empire building, crushing the opposition of people who don’t believe (see Peter’s Ear incident) or even getting the right answers on a Bible test. He lived. He loved. He brought justice. And in the end, he was killed for it. Which of course brought more love and more justice.
Sometimes I wonder if that is the kind of game I’m playing?
A good Lutheran thinks social justice is the way to go.
A good Methodist believes holiness is what it’s all about.
A good American Baptist loves the ACLU.
A good Independent Baptist despises the evil Michael W Smith.
A good Catholic focuses on subsiding his guilt.
A good Puritan enjoys that same guilt.
A good Calvinist lifts up praises to Paul’s letters.
A good Evangelical lifts up praises to pop songs.
A good Maverick avoids the institution of church.
A good Quaker does not give up meeting together.
A good Charismatic feels like God is moving.
A good Presbyterian orders her life to understand God.
A good postmodern thinks a little of this and a little of that.
A good Congregationalist can’t wait to vote.
