"You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar," Mom said. She was right then, and she's right now.
Thumper the Rabbit's mom agrees, adding, "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all."
Yet, if you were to ask the unchurched world what it thinks of the church, most people would say that the church is condemning, judgmental, and rude.
If that's how we come across, it makes me wonder...are we doing it right?
Because Jesus didn't come across that way. Jesus was known as the "friend of sinners," not the finger-shaking judge. Jesus focused on attracting people to God, rather than condemning them. In John 3 (NIV), Nichodemus sought the Master out for a secret meeting because he knew his interest in Jesus would be scorned by his fellow religious leaders. He asked Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus answered:
14 Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, 15 that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.”
Jesus was talking about an incident in Israel's history (Numbers 21) where venomous serpents swarmed the camp of wandering Hebrews, biting and killing many. They attributed this plague to God's punishing them for grumbling. This is fitting, because it underscores that when we grumble, we poison ourselves. The solution Moses presented was to make a bronze serpent, and set it on a pole. Everyone who looked to the metal snake for healing was miraculously cured. Jesus referenced this odd occurence as an allegory. Just as healing came to the Israelites by attracting their attention away from the grumbling and pain, to focus instead on the source of their healing, Jesus himself would be lifted up as a source of healing. In John 12:32, Jesus would reinforce this approach of attracting people to him by saying, "And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”
Instead of focusing on the negative, Jesus says, "Look at me!" Instead of condemning, Jesus offers hope. Again, in John 3, the narrator picks up the theme from Jesus' words to Nicodemus.
16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. 17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.
Clearly, Jesus is not about condemning the world, but about saving it. This is his mission. And this ought to be what the church is about.
Unfortunately, the church has all too often been about shaking its finger and sometimes shaking its fist at the world, condemning a culture that doesn't follow the church's way. This doesn't make sense, because how can we expect a world that isn't a part of the church to follow the way of Jesus? That's like condemning a cat for not acting more like a dog. Instead, the church ought to be inspiring dogs to act like better dogs. Maybe that kind of gentle attraction will one day make cats say, "Can you show me how to be a better cat, too?"
So, I ask, "What if the church were more attractive and less condeming?" How would it change the way we operate among fellow believers? How would it change the way we relate to people we view as "outside the faith?" I believe if we shift and become more like Jesus in this matter, the spirit of the church would change entirely, and more people would be drawn to Christ.
Have you ever wondered where those tennis folks get off, using the word "love" to mean "nothing?" That doesn't make any sense. Because I'm a word nerd, I looked it up. Here's one thing I found on Quora:
MAHALAKSHMI MURALI, Tennis BloggerAnswered Nov 17, 2017Originally Answered: What does love means in tennis?The origin of “love” in tennis is disputed. It technically corresponds to zero. One of the possible derivations of the word “love” could be the French expression “L’œuf” which translates into the egg because an egg looks like the number zero. Another possible theory of the origin of “love” could be that at the beginning of the match when the scores are zero the opponents have love of each other, hence “Love All”.
Etymonline further illuminates:
Old English lufu "feeling of love; romantic sexual attraction; affection; friendliness; the love of God; Love as an abstraction or personification," from Proto-Germanic *lubo (source also of Old High German liubi "joy," German Liebe "love;" Old Norse, Old Frisian, Dutch lof; German Lob "praise;" Old Saxon liof, Old Frisian liaf, Dutch lief, Old High German liob, German lieb, Gothic liufs "dear, beloved"). The Germanic words are from PIE root *leubh- "to care, desire, love."
The weakened sense "liking, fondness" was in Old English. Meaning "a beloved person" is from early 13c. The sense "no score" (in tennis, etc.) is 1742, from the notion of playing for love (1670s), that is, for no stakes.
So, love is playing for nothing. Love is playing for no score. This reminds me of 1 Corinthians 13:1-7. I don't usually, but I'm going to share those verses from Eugene Peterson's The Message:
If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.
2 If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.
3-7 If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back, but keeps going to the end.
Right in the center of all those qualities is that love "doesn't keep score."
I can't tell you how many times I've fallen into the trap of keeping score with someone I love. "I've given and given to them, but they haven't given back." Or, "They've hurt me so many times!" It's like the tennis score is 40-love, where "love" means "nothing," and that's my score. Zip. Zero. That's what keeping score gets you.
But what if we change the meaning of the tennis score "love" and understand it this way: "Man, you really got one on me--but I still love you! Well, you're scoring more than I am, but I still love you." You get to the point where if your score is "love," you're no longer keeping score at all--becaue what's the point? In fact, there are no points. You're not in the relationship to win. You're in it for the love of the game, for the love of the other person. So let them score. Or better yet--if you quit keeping score then their triumphs aren't scores anymore anyway. You simply get to say, "Good one! Way go go! Look at how well you've done!" And that's a much better way to play the game than competing anyway.
Have you ever gotten frustrated in an argument, thrown up your arms and said, "I can't win!?"
Why are you trying to win, anyway? That's not a very nice way to play the game where "love" means neither of you is keeping score. Instead, when you're in a disagreement, step aside. Go back to 1 Corinthians 13, and remind yourself what love is all about.
Do you have a sacred place where you go, to get alone with God? Maybe it's a mountain stream or a favorite beach, or a place in a park where the flowers bloom. Human beings long for sacred places--breathing space where we can commune with our own hearts and with God. For some people, that special place is the church where they grew up. I remember the song, "Church in the Wildwood", by the Statler brothers:
There's a church in the valley by the wildwood
No lovelier spot in the dale
No place is so dear to my childhood
As the little brown church in the vale
I have several such places, where my heart goes in memory, as I think of special events that formed my soul. Yes, one of those, for me, is Mount Olivet Baptist Church, where I grew up. There, I first learned to trust God, learned to follow, and then learned to lead. I even had moments when I believed I saw a divine glow in the sanctuary, during worship--but did God LIVE at Mount Olivet? Well, yes. But no more than God lives in other places. Yet, even though God is omnipresent (everywhere at once), God is also often known in sacred places.
For me, sacred places go beyond church buildings. I think of certains spots by certain rivers where I have felt God's presence strongly (thank you to Nancy Hugo and the River Project in high school). I remember mountain top experiences where God seemed so near (thank you, BGAV Appalachian Trail Minister's Hikes). I can also rememeber hospital rooms where we all held hands and prayed, where we all felt the presence of angels. Yes, God is everywhere, but God is also in certain places at specific times.
When Solomon dedicated the Temple in Jerusalem, he prayed for God's blessing on the sacred place. He said, "The lord has said that he would dwell in a dark cloud; I have indeed built a magnificent temple for you, a place for you to dwell forever (1 Kings 8:12-13 NIV)." While God's dark cloud of mystery obscures the divine presence, still God condescends to meet us in the tangible world.
Still, Solomon recognized God's omnipresence. "But will God really dwell on earth? The heavens, even the highest heaven, cannot contain you. How much less this temple I have built (v. 27)." Solomon knows that God is beyond time and space, yet he also knows that people need some physical marker to identify and remember their experience with God. This is why he suggests "praying toward" the temple. This tradition, called Mizrah, became so important for many Jewish believers that they hung or painted special ornaments on the side of their house that was closest to Jerusalem, just so they could know which direction to pray towards. It wasn't that they believed that God would hear their prayers more if they faced the temple (or the place where the demolished temple used to be). It was a way of orienting their hearts toward sacred space.
Today, I wonder--what's your sacred space? Do you have a physical place in your life, where you feel close to God? How do you jive the two concepts of an omnipresent God, and a very present God in a tangible world? Do you believe God is "up in heaven?" Or do you believe that God is right here? Maybe it's both! Maybe even saying "both" is too limited. Maybe it's even more than that--far more than words can tell.
