Caught In Between

November 27 is the first Sunday of Advent. We wait, desperate, for the appearance of Christ into our lives, goggle-eyed and sweaty-palmed, daring to believe that God is more than just some cosmic despot who rules from afar, that maybe God cares, that maybe we matter. The Church is pregnant with that message, that God does care, and that we do matter... will the church carry Christ to term? Or is this pregnancy too much trouble, have we better things to do?

I don't know about you, but it seems to me that there are churches on every street corner. Many of them make a claim to be somehow "different. " Some are different because they use unusual instruments in worship. Some are different because they offer the five-star children's program, or youth program, or singles program, that no other church offers. Some are different because they have fun catch phrases on the signs, things like "A Home for Your Heart" and "The Caring Place." My favorite is "The People's Church," because it makes me think that the state-run church in China probably has a sign out front that says exactly that.

In the midst of this, though, something is missing. I recently heard a pastor preach a sermon on the Parable of the Talents. One servant received five talents, one received two, and one received one. The first two servants, of course, traded with their money and were commended for their actions, but the servant who only got one talent buried it. It was explained that the servant who buried his talent wasn't dishonest; in fact, he did what any of us would do. But in the end, we were told, it takes more to live for God than to hold down an honorable job, to show up for church, to put your money in the plate. To be like the other two servants, we have to come back to church on Sunday night and attend "Share Jesus without Fear," where we will learn to lead others to Christ. Then we will be like the servants who traded with their master's money and were invited into his delight.

Despite our worship style, our diverse congregations, and our catch phrases, we are very much alike. Radical obedience, the obedience to which Christ calls us, has been collapsed into radical obedience to church programming. Thus, the possibility of hearing a frightening call from Christ, a call that may change every aspect of our lives, is prevented before every having a chance to emerge. We learn just enough of Christ, and conform to his life just enough, to look strange once in a while, not to fit quite into the world, but we never manage to follow him completely. Caught in between sainthood and the world's "success," we languish on uselessly all our lives.

We are called to something better. The church is pregnant, and each of us is as well. Will we carry Christ to term?