We're Just Being Silly

Most of what we do in church is silly.

Of course, some folks are offended by the silliness, and some folks are offended that we call it silly. And some folks are offended that so many other folks are so easily offended.
And all this being offended is just silly.

Some of what we do in worship is silly.
Those of us who worship through liturgical structures take what we do so seriously, confident and proud that we are doing it the only correct way - as if we have a corner on the only right way for God’s creatures to worship the God of the universe.
Those of us who deny the value of liturgical worship and take great pride in our “free” worship, are all the while developing our own liturgical styles.
Some of us gather in large churches, not knowing the people around us, and not seeing the silliness of worshipping a God who calls us to love our neighbor while not knowing the name of the people next to us.
Some of us gather in small churches, knowing everyone in the building, and not understanding how much courage it would take our neighbors to even drive into our church’s parking lot.
We sing songs, we say prayers, we hear sermons, and we leave the same way we came in. We hope God will move, but we really don’t want to change.

Silly.

We meet in small groups, every person in the room carrying a Bible. We leave the group, maybe a little happier, maybe a little sadder, and then we concern ourselves with what we will eat for lunch. On the other side of the world, people are praying and hoping, and living and dying, staking their life on Jesus, all the while never having a Bible in their hand.

How silly is that?

But it is what we do when we leave worship that is the most silly of all.

We say that we have a personal connection with the God of the universe, yet we look to political leaders to fix what’s wrong in society. We look to military leaders to protect us, we look to economic leaders to secure our future.

We chastise fellow Christians because the commas in their creeds are different from ours, because their interpretations of nuanced, complex, and unclear - perhaps intentionally so - passages are different from ours. We break fellowship because we don’t get our way, because our songs are not sung, because someone looks at us funny, because we don’t get thanked, because we expect everyone at church to be focused on meeting our needs.

Wow, that’s silly.

But the silliest thing of all is that we would expect things to be any different.

You see, for all our talk about holiness, about sanctification, about tranformation, what we have failed to understand after 2,000 years of silliness is that we are exactly like the people Jesus met when he got personally involved in all sorts of human silliness in that small plot of ground in Galilee.

They needed a Savior and Lord.

We need a Savior and Lord.

To suggest anything else is, well... just silly.