Leaving the box.

This weekend, my wife and I went to a famous, historic church for worship. Having come to the city for a marathon, we were without our traditional Sunday attire, and the usher struggled not to show his disappointment. The church was as beautiful as I’d heard, but I struggled to open the individual doors leading to what I can only describe as pew “boxes.” I felt safe once we were in our box, with the door closed, and the service began. It was a formal liturgy, with high and lofty language and no music. The sermon spoke of the vastness of the universe and the remarkable fact that we hold a special place in that universe as children created in God’s image. We left our boxes to receive communion, and by the end of the service I could not wait to leave.

As I thought about the experience driving home, I realized what troubled me (beyond my usual insecurities). Everything about the church, its people, and the service was about how special or unique we are.

“This is one of the most famous churches in the country.”

“We are from one of the founding families of the city.”

“Look at our impressive worship.”

The collage' of messages was in sharp contrast to everything I now understand the Gospel to be. God so loved the world, that I no longer have to hide in a box. God so loved the world, that we can open the doors and sit beside one another. God so loved the world, that we are given the opportunity to worship each week with open and unpretentious hearts.

It seems to me that the point of this whole thing is to understand what makes us the same, not different . . . what we have in common, not what's unique. In the midst of all the history, pearls and bowties, thee's and thou's, we're beloved children of God who hold the same fears and hopes as one another, if only we can find the safety and grace to admit it.

I knew better than to hope the minister would mention Martin Luther King, Jr. and the holiday to celebrate all he tried to help us see, but I cannot help but think I was given this experience to hear again the message of the Gospel and renew my conviction that we are all beloved children of God . . . even the people who worship in boxes.