I arrived home late, too late considering my plans for the next day. I opened the door to the condo and discovered my daughter had invited someone to stay the night. No worries. I found the bedsheets I had taken off the bed earlier in the day from the last time she’d stayed over and handed them to her apologetically, asking her to make her own bed.
I remembered I needed to run the dishwasher before going to bed. I found cups and dishes in the sink. “What’s wrong with people?” I muttered to myself. “Don’t they know how to put dirty dishes in the dishwasher?”
It’s one of my least attractive qualities, this muttering to myself. I was late going to bed, a result of enjoying the company of good friends. Someone unexpected was in my condo, a result of my daughter having close relationships with others. I found dishes in the sink, a result of kids — even adult children — being kids.
“Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox” (Proverbs 14:4). The mess is evidence of blessing.
Messy Church
Church is messy. I look out some Sundays at the people who’ve gathered and my heart breaks. It’s such a privilege to be part of this church. Every one of them is a gift.
I remember well the days when we had nobody. When we arrived in the community, we had big dreams but no people. Everything was possibility. We had no people problems because we had no people.
Things are different now. I’ve been at this a while now. Wherever there are people, there are problems: prayers to be prayed, people to be comforted, issues to confront, conflicts to mediate, and sinners to restore.
Wherever there are people, there are problems.
“Orderliness can reach the point of sterility,” Derek Kidner writes. “This proverb is not a plea for slovenliness, physical or moral, but for the readiness to accept upheaval, and a mess to clear up, as the price of growth.” We should “foster a farmer’s outlook, rather than a curator’s.”
I won’t always have a messy church. One day I’ll miss the mess. The mess I’m facing now is evidence of God’s blessing. We’re actually reaching the people — with all their issues — I’d prayed about just a few years ago.
A Pastor’s Grumbling
As I loaded the dishwasher last Saturday night, I caught myself grumbling and stopped. One day the kids will be gone, I reminded myself. One day I will no longer have the aggravation of cleaning up after them, and I’ll miss it.
I try to catch my grumbling as a pastor too. One day I won’t have to care for people’s souls. One day I won’t be tired because the demands of people exceed my capacity. In some ways it will be a relief, but I’ll miss it.
I’m grateful for oxen in the barn, even though the barn stinks sometimes. God help me not to grumble, but to thank God for the messiness of church.
