One of David Kinnaman’s categories for young adults who are
no longer a viable part of the church is nomads. Among the way he defines
nomads is the fact that “leaving church was less an intentional choice and more
of a ‘slow fade,’ a period of increasing detachment that took many months or
years.” (You Lost Me, page 63) Over
the years of my own observations about church and its challenges, I’ve often
called these people “drifters.” They don’t wake up one day and decide that
church is no longer important for them, it just happens – they drift away.
At some level it is tempting to say things like “they never
were really committed” or “they will come back one day,” or anything else that
makes us think it isn’t our responsibility for the drifters, or in Kinnaman’s
language, “the nomads.” But if Kinnaman’s research is reasonably accurate,
we’re sitting around watching a lot of great young adults casually drift away,
and some of us are thinking it isn’t our responsibility.
In looking through some notes from my theology class where I
summarize a number of biblical texts in terms of what they say about the life
of the church, the body of Christ, one of the points I make is that “the unity
of the body of Christ seems to be most obviously indicated by our willingness
to serve others – even at the expense of our own needs.” That idea, reflective of what I believe to be
God’s intentional purpose at creation and one that permeates the testimony of
Scripture, won’t allow us the luxury of watching the “drift” and not trying to
respond in some kind of fruitful manner.
Rather than assuming that the old American ideal of “pulling
yourself up by your bootstraps” ought to work in the kingdom of God, what would
happen if we truly adopted the idea that in serving, even at our own expense,
we model the unity, the oneness, of the body of Christ? Which would surely
imply that rather than saying, “here’s church like it or leave it,” we started
saying, “how can we serve you, even if it costs us something?” The cost
probably won’t be so much dollars and cents as it will be time and engagement.
Most likely it will cost people my age some of our personal preferences, but
not core biblical ideas.
After all, the gospel really is about Jesus. That’s it.
Nothing more, nothing less. Jesus. That’s it. The great truth – one that we
sometimes overlook – is that Jesus is a very attractive subject. The real Jesus
that is. Not the civic Jesus of our own idol making, but the Jesus of
Scripture. The one who hangs out with sinners in redemptive manner. The one who
believed that if we could find a way to love God and love our neighbors, we
would exceed the blessings of the Law. The one who called us all to a
redemptive relationship with the God who made the universe and who desires that
we partner with Him in redeeming and renewing all of creation through the
Kingdom of God.
At the heart of it all, it simply is the recognition of the
fact that the real Jesus calls “un-fixed” people to come to Him to be “fixed.”
But sometimes, especially in the minds of the drifters, we preach a gospel that
says “get fixed” and then come to Jesus.
When coming to Jesus for healing becomes the way we think,
perhaps the drift can be subsided and the words of Psalm 133 will be true of
us: “How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!”
(Psalm 133:1, NRSV)
If we are committed to “living together in unity” we simply
can’t keep ignoring the “drift” that is happening right in front of us. For me,
that means more than ever I’m going to think about that line from my theology
class notes that says, “the unity of the body of Christ seems to be most
obviously indicated by our willingness to serve others – even at the expense of
our own needs.”
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