Lord, To Whom Shall We Go?

Somehow we have gotten the idea that the life of faith should be easy. I suppose that’s the result of living in a consumer culture. Some churches go right along with that idea. They use surveys and focus groups to determine just what combination of enticements will lure people into a building they don’t even call a church. Even I sometimes think that if only we had an espresso machine and really good food, people would prefer church to Starbucks.

We succumb to that outlook because there’s some truth in it. We know that people are consumers of religious services, and if they don’t like what our church provides they’ll go to another. We also live in a culture of entertainment where we expect to be passive participants. The “songs” should be musically simple and make us feel good. The “message” should make life easier.

For the most part, churches have many more people on the membership roll than attend each week. It’s easier to become a member than it is to get off the roster. But I have always been intrigued by churches that do just the opposite. They welcome anyone and everyone, but those who want to become members have more expected of them. They must commit time and money and be open to serious spiritual growth. As a result, there are fewer actual members than people attending. Such churches almost seem like New Testament communities.

This Sunday we finally hear the end of the sixth chapter of John’s Gospel. Each week Jesus has been speaking more and more bluntly, until at last his listeners can’t take it anymore. They don’t want hear about eating his flesh and drinking his blood any more than we would if we didn’t know the “code” to translate his words into communion bread and wine. Jesus was just plain offensive. It almost seemed like he didn’t care because he already knew who was going to walk away. He even asked the Twelve, “You don’t want to leave too, do you?” Simon Peter spoke for all of them. “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

“Lord, to whom shall we go?” Say whatever you want, Lord. Be as offensive as you wish. We don’t have any other choice but to stay here with you, because we know that eternal life comes from no one else. It’s true that Peter and the others would run away from the Cross, but that’s because they were afraid of death, not offended by what Jesus said.

“Lord, to whom shall we go?” Those are haunting words. I think about those words every time someone tells me that church starts too early on a day made for sleeping in. Or when an out-of-town sports event claims priority. Or when the lure of fresh coffee and the Sunday newspaper make it hard to get out of the house. I understand all of those temptations, because I once succumbed to them. None of them is a proper response to Peter’s question.

We can’t escape our culture. Even if we rebel against it, we are part of it. But we can challenge the assumption that church and life itself should be all about feeling good. Faith is difficult. Life is challenging. There’s no getting around that. Whatever happens, however, we have that knowledge, that rock, expressed by Peter:  we have come to believe and know that Jesus Christ is the Holy One of God. With that knowledge, we can face anything – even a church without an espresso machine.

[Pentecost 13: John 6:56-69.]