The Church Needs You

We live in an era of deconstruction. As I’ve watched friends and acquaintances go through this process over the past several years, it has seemed to me that there are two paths: the first back toward a faith with stronger roots than before, based in ancient truths and strong in theology where the modern church is sometimes weak; the second away from the church altogether and toward a more secular albeit spiritual life, often still including a personal relationship with Christ. Mostly, it is not Christ who is rejected; it is the church as an institution of religion. While I understand and feel compassion for those who have left the church as a result of the often painful process of deconstruction, I feel a great sense of loss. In these departures, it is the church that is losing. Losing souls. Losing world-changers. Losing lovers of humanity. Losing the hands and feet of Jesus.

It’s not easy being a Christian. We are called to be “in the world but not of the world” (see John 15:19), to straddle the fence between the church and modern culture, to love where others judge and hate and reject. And when the church is not fulfilling these callings, it can feel impossible to remain within her walls.

There’s just one problem: you can’t impact the church from outside.

Yes, you can reflect Christ in your personal relationships. You can instruct your children in the ways of God, raising them to follow Jesus. You can worship at home. You can serve others who are in need. You can certainly do all of these things without being part of an established church body.

But Hebrews 10 says,

Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body,and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching. (vv. 19-25 NIV, emphasis mine)

We are called to meet together as the body of Christ. As Shakespeare wrote, “There’s the rub.”

Change is slow, of course. And there are areas of doctrine within certain denominations where you’re unlikely to have any impact. Good luck convincing a Southern Baptist church that complementarianism isn’t biblical, for example. Or the Catholic church that women should be priests. But the church is so fractured in doctrine across her denominations that it seems reasonable to suggest there is somewhere we all can feel comfortable enough to join the throng on Sunday mornings. Somewhere we can all feel that we can join in the work of God.

Ultimately, I am writing this message for myself. It’s been years since we’ve had a church home, although not for lack of trying to find one (which is exhausting, I admit). My own deconstruction path has been one of study: church history, theology, the church fathers, the lives of the saints. I’m so tired of seeker-friendly services and coffee ministries I could vomit. I want a Sunday morning experience that is as deep as it is wide, rooted in the ancient but devoid of patriarchy and politics, of bias and judgment. But I’ve at last arrived at a place of acceptance that I may never find exactly what I’m looking for–not until heaven. And maybe–just maybe–that’s the point. Narnia is wonderful, but it’s not Aslan’s Country. So I just need to find a place where I can contribute to good works, build [imperfect] relationships, worship with other believers as Scripture instructs me to do, and do what little I can to impact the church from inside its walls.

It’s not a Bible verse, but I’ve been thinking a great deal about the words of the character Mma Ramotswe in book 19 of Alexander McCall Smith’s No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series, The Colors of All the Cattle, when she runs for election to the local council: “I am not much, but I promise you I will do my best.” Later, a local reporter sent to interview her asks, “But if there is nothing you can do, then why stand for election?” Mma Ramotswe replies, “Because there is not nothing I can do–what I can do is the things I can do.”

This applies to all of us, I believe, in any situation, including church. What we can do is what we can do. It may be little, but if it is our best, it will be enough.

And yes, I could do something altogether different, like start my own house church with a doctrine that matches mine and invite people to join me, but I feel a strong sense of responsibility to do otherwise. The church that already exists needs me. It needs my heart for God and for Scripture, for worship and for the eucharist, for truth and for justice, for true biblical womanhood.

Deconstructionists, whatever your story, the church needs you. It needs your hands and feet. It needs your love for others. It needs your passion for truth. It needs your acceptance of doubt. It needs your example. And it will never stop needing you.

Harmony Harkema has loved the written word for as long as she can remember. A former English teacher turned editor, she has spent the past twelve years in the publishing industry. A writer herself in the fringe hours of her working-and-homeschooling mom life, Harmony has a heart for leading and coaching aspiring writers. She is the owner of The Glorious Table and cohost and producer at The Relatable Homeschoolers podcast. Harmony lives in Memphis with her husband and two daughters. You can find her at HarmonyHarkema.com and on Instagram @harmonyharkema.

Photograph © Steven Cordes, used with permission