You back out of your driveway to go to church, and wave to your Lutheran neighbor getting into his car to go to his church. Or at lunch after worship you see a finely dressed family at the table next to you, and you nod. You’re strangers, but not. There’s a bond, a connection. You went to different churches, but in truth you went to the same church. In God’s heart and mind, you’re fellow members of the one true church.
If you’re a Rotarian, or a Lion, or in the DAR, you have a meaningful connection to others in similar clubs across the country. The church is even richer. Across the entire globe, and even across all the centuries, you are part of the mystical, united church that loves and tries to serve God, and is much beloved by God.
And so a given church looks like a building with its roll of members. But we are connected, formally or informally, with a holy and fantastically diverse host all over space and time – including the future. We are one body with Christians yet to be born, and congregations that haven’t even started yet. Our shared work, our noble striving to be Christ to the world, extends far beyond a single lifetime, or one place.
Organized religion, for all the jabs it suffers, is a wonder to behold. In a culture where people want to be spiritual in their own private way, and where others flat out deny their spirituality, people voluntarily go to quite a bit of trouble to join with others to get way more done for the good of the world than any single person could manage. And we have good company for the journey.
As Mother Teresa used to say, I love all religions, but I am in love with my own. We United Methodists have worldwide connections, which enables my church to get on the phone and wire instant assistance to a church fielding refugees from an outbreak of war, or victims of natural catastrophes. We are there. At the local, conference, or worldwide level, there’s power in what we can get done, not to mention the love and encouragement we provide to one another.
And I am proud that we United Methodists just don’t have it in our DNA to say We’re right, and the other guys are wrong. We don’t judge or condemn. And therefore, we can partner easily with others – well, except for those who are cocksure they’re right and we’re wrong, for even though we’d love to play with them, they refuse to play with us. There’s no one we won’t include in our circle.
Our connectedness may and should have the benefit of luring us always toward the center of things, instead of veering off to the far left or right. Think about Christian Nationalism: their best hope is to recall that we are one in God’s mind and heart, and perhaps if they notice we are appalled by much of what they believe and do, then because we are to love and not judge or loathe one another in Christ’s universal church, they might temper what they’re about and draw close to the rest of us. Same for those Christians who veer far to the left.
Our connected church longs to be and acts zealously to be connected, not just with other Christians, but with everybody made and loved by God. People of other faiths? We love, welcome, learn from and share in good work with Jews, Muslims, Sikhs and Buddhists. People of no faith? We never judge or shun, and we don’t shout truths at them; no, we listen, we love, we even partner with them in good works.
Our dream is that our knack for connection will be most evident and effective with the lost, the wounded, the trampled upon. Years ago, every Sunday morning in our pastoral prayer, we included this ask of God: “Lord, send us the people nobody else wants.” After all, they’re the ones God most wants in God’s church, and they’re the ones who will be the greatest blessing to us. In Church, connection is everything.