I’m in the process of unfollowing every page on Facebook that seeks to tell me what I’m doing wrong. There are so many bits mind-numbing of content from every corner of the internet nagging me (maybe you, too) about all the ways I’m living an inferior life because, gasp, I might put on something no woman over 50 should wear or that I’ve been loading the dishwasher incorrectly all these years (probably far longer than the people writing this “advice” have been alive.)
The Christian culture is no different. There are a proliferation of preacher, teachers, saints and sinners with the exact prescription you need to cure what ails you. The tentacles of advertising reach out through the Church as they do through any other medium. The product may — or may not — be different.
At this place of sickening fatigue from all the voices harping at me at every turn, I’m rethinking church, more specifically where I belong. This isn’t easy for any one at any age. However, I find that I’m in an invisible group in most churches. I would say “all,” but I haven’t visited all so I can’t say whether or not my experience holds up globally.
There’s a lot of noise about church, with people telling you where you should be. The battle about who’s in and who’s out, and who gets to decide, plays out in 2017 as if it were Age of Reformation. Churches are keen to ensure their brands sparkle as they promote marketing messages to anyone, anywhere.
I’m a simple soul. Bigger, better, fancier and flashier don’t draw me in. I want a church that focuses on the essentials and leaves out the superfluous.
For the last several days, a phrase keeps going through my thoughts: just give me Jesus — a singular, elegant, persistent, enduring gaze on Jesus.
Just … just … give me Jesus.
Peace to you friends!