That Worrisome Word "Commitment"

Ever think about why you do or don't come to church?

A family visited a church for about a year. From all appearances, it was a match made in heaven, or at least in the sanctuary. They fit in perfectly, even made a few friends. They came and participated. Their faces became part of the church's regular life. However, they never joined. The people who study such things report that such behavior is more and more common these days -- churches are full of people who enjoy taking test drives but (for whatever the reason), never join.

Then something surprising happened: the family dropped completely out of sight.

The sociologists tell us that's to be expected, in part because our culture has different meanings of the word "commitment." We like commitments that benefit us -- shorter cell phone contracts, for example. But we become skeptical about commiting to making decisions about joining churches. Afterall, the old wisdom goes, if I join, next thing you know they'll be asking me to serve on Session.

Let's change that.

What I envision for our church is a commitment to hospitality that helps open spaces for a person's individual transformation and growth in Jesus Christ. Church membership is first an individual's response to the call to discipleship in Christ. It is a commitment, yes, but a commitment first to God. It is, as Donald McKim says, "a vow to live a life of discipleship in which one grows in faith and service to Christ, and through the church, the world." Yes, commitment means willingness to serve--either by lighting candles on Sunday or developing the church budget. It also means a willingness to be loved by God in worship -- and to love God's children in mission. The journey towards greater commitment, it seems, is made up of a lot of small steps taken gradually -- not just major steps taken impulsively.

In her book Traveling Mercies, author Anne Lamott describes why she became a Presbyterian--and why she made her then-young son, Sam, attend church regularly.

Lamott was an unmarried pregnant woman when she stumbled upon what she calls her "funky little church" in the San Francisco area. "Almost immediately they set about providing for us. They brought clothes, they brought me casseroles to keep in the freezer, they brought me assurance that this baby was going to be part of the family." (Traveling Mercies, p. 101). At the end of her rope, "the people of St. Andrew tied a knot in it for me and helped me hold on. The church became my home in the old meaning of home--that it's where, when you show up, that have to let you in. They let me in. They even said, 'You come back now.'"

And so they stayed. In faith, Lamott made a commitment to that church. She made a profession of faith to be part of a congregation that not only worships on Sundays but does whatever it takes to live faithfully as Christ's disciples in the world.

In living that commitment, she discovered what she calls "the most profound spiritual truth I know: that even when we're most sure that love can't conquer all, it seems to anyway." (p. 264).

Come to church -- and we'll say "You come back now!"