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Let’s play the imagination game

Let's play the imagination game. Let's imagine that your maternal great-grandparents were charter members of the church you presently attend. In fact, your mom's folks were Sunday School friends, then high school sweethearts, then tied the knot--in this very sanctuary.  Your dad first attended the church as a young adult, which led to your parents' courtship and wedding, and in time, to your baptism and confirmation, too.

Let's imagine that those four generations of family all have spent enormous energy building up the church. Many have served on the Session. Those so talented have sung in choir. Most have taught church school classes. Those great-grandparents and a couple grandparents were buried in the church graveyard just to the west side of the sanctuary.

Let’s play the imagination game. Let’s imagine that your maternal great-grandparents were charter members of the church you presently attend. In fact, your mom’s folks were Sunday School friends, then high school sweethearts, then tied the knot–in this very sanctuary.  Your dad first attended the church as a young adult, which led to your parents’ courtship and wedding, and in time, to your baptism and confirmation, too.

Let’s imagine that those four generations of family all have spent enormous energy building up the church. Many have served on the Session. Those so talented have sung in choir. Most have taught church school classes. Those great-grandparents and a couple grandparents were buried in the church graveyard just to the west side of the sanctuary.

Let’s imagine that about a decade ago, the congregation installed a promising new pastor.  He (yes, he is male) led worship in all the familiar ways, sticking to favorite hymns, preaching responsible, though not remarkable, sermons. 

Let’s imagine that a few years ago some things in the church began to change. The introduction of contemporary songs riled the congregation at first. As folks were adjusting to the use of drums in the choir loft, few noticed that the Doxology, Lord’s Prayer, and Apostles’ Creed fell into disuse. The pastor continued to speak about God and to pray to God, but the name of Jesus was seldom being mentioned. 

Let’s imagine that infant baptisms of late have expressed warm sentiments, and the parents have raved about the pastor’s kindnesses, but somehow the phrase, “Father, Son and Holy Spirit” has been overlooked.  

Let’s imagine that you and a few friends have written a letter to the Session, expressing concern about these changes, and that the Session has assured that the church is following God faithfully, and that they fully support the pastor. Of course, you can understand that, given that all the active elders have joined the church in the past 5 years. 

Let’s imagine that the Session then announces that it is contemplating leaving the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) in order to become non-denominational, and that they are doing so because the PC(USA) has been hijacked by traditionalists and fundamentalists, folks who have shut their minds to new ideas, to broadening spiritualities, and to the larger universe of faith.

Let’s imagine that the pastor and the Session call a congregational meeting, recommend that the church disaffiliate from the denomination, and the motion garners 71% of the vote–a result you argue has been fueled by the disappearances of other traditionalist friends of yours and by the Session’s recent efforts to purge the membership rolls. 

Let’s imagine that the pastor, session and other leaders sue the presbytery in court, claiming that the congregation has built the buildings, maintained the property, and paid the utilities–and thereby is entitled to keep it all.

Let’s imagine that, as the bleached- bland preaching persists, as the heritage of the church goes to seed, and as your grandparents and great-grandparents spin in their graves, and as your mind spins wishes of how it might have played otherwise, the presbytery does nothing.

 

— JHH

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