I can’t deny it. I consume products. I use marketplace jargon like “buy in” and “asset” as part of my every day speech. I purchase things for their aesthetics, not necessarily for their life expectancy. And like any good customer, I know how to get the best bang for my buck. Shopping around isn’t just a philosophy; it’s a lifestyle.
So it’s no wonder I shop for a new church in the same way I shop for a new pair of jeans.
Last September, I moved to Halifax temporarily. The academic program I was attending was only about seven months long, so I never really thought of the city as home. But I had visions of getting in with a church right away, making wonderful friends, and feeling accepted and welcomed into a community of faith.
My first Sunday in Halifax, I went to a church about five minutes from where I lived. It was fairly small and the people were friendly. But I didn’t want to just start going to the very first church I went to. I thought it was too “Ned Flanders-y.”
So I kept on browsing.
In the first three months of living in Halfax, I attended about six or seven different churches. And I found something not quite right with every one. There was nothing inherently wrong with any of them. They were all great places of worship, and had I continued to attend one of them consistently, I would have probably gotten to know and been part of the church community in the way I longed for.
But I wanted to keep looking. I wanted to find that perfect place where everything just clicked.
Rather than seeing church as a place of community, I got caught up in seeing it as just another product I consumed.
After Christmas I eventually found a church I went to consistently, but I wasted so much time in the beginning of the year, trying on different congregations and worship styles to see how it would fit, I didn’t end up getting to know any of the people who went to the church.
I didn’t put in as much effort as I should have, knowing I’d just be leaving in another couple of months.
As much as I love the movie (please don’t judge me), I don’t think there’s a church equivalent to the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. There’s no perfect church out there, fitting its members completely, fulfilling their every need.
Why do I think about church existing only to benefit me or to entertain me? That it’s something I can consume only to eventually throw away? Why do I want it to be completely perfect?
As much as I want it to be, the church isn’t all about me. It’s more about the collective worship of a God who looks past our messiness and dysfunction, no matter how much we look or act like Ned Flanders.
I think I’ll have to stop shopping around for the perfect church. I don’t think I’ll ever find it, because the church is made up of imperfect people.
People who are just like me.
Flickr photo by rwspix
