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Ten
Thousand Charms
By
Jody Sneed
Come,
ye sinners, poor and needy,
Weak
and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus
ready stands to save you,
Full
of pity, love and power.
Come, Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy by Joseph Walker
I
am struggling. The
second line of the old, old hymn struck me so personally after
six weeks of a lingering illness, I felt every word. Combined with a job, family full of teenagers and struggling
with a new view of life in the church, well, this was truly the
winter of my discontent.
About
this time last year, I was first exposed to this simpler and
more authentic concept of the body of Christ.
And at that same time a series of conflicts with the
church establishment led me to begin a practice of comparative
Christianity in trying to come up with solutions to the woes of
the institution.
Church
leaders, clergy and laity, were been analyzed at every turn,
with motivations and planning seen in each misspoken word and
unsure glance. A
recent deacons meeting brought much of my misery to a head: a
missionary enterprise with an underserved African people group
involving no expense was denied for lack of detail of the impact
on the budget while a multi-year, multi-million dollar church
relocation was recommended, despite little long-range detail
other than projected capital budgets.
The impact of such a move on the local area was discussed
and the result was summed up like this: the neighborhood folks
would rather worship with their own people.
We can make a big impact by leaving and using the old
facility to for a specific-ethnicity mission church or creating
a community center.
And
I know my reactions to these situations made my other
relationships tougher the weeks of illness, stubbornly rejecting
medical help and then when I relented, not following up when the
treatment wasn’t working, caused frustration for my family.
My season of crankiness had hurt many relationships, as
had my run of comparative Christianity.
I had thought being miserable for Christ was part of the
persecutions He promised wed endure for our belief.
One more such indignity would be tonight’s a concert of
prayer, to begin preparation for personal renewal in advance of
a one-day revival. I
saw the timing alongside the vote on the church relocation as
too coincidental and was planning to continue my Sunday
afternoon nap into the early evening.
But my wife’s preparations for the evening service
reminded me of one relationship I had not maintained so well and
I asked if I could drive her, knowing I hadn’t done that much
of late.
To
my surprise, the concert focused on the early church in Acts
2:42-46. Singing
was still out of the question, so I spent much of the time
praying and meditating. During
the illness, my study and prayer time had evaporated.
Now, I was being drawn by the simple piano and guitar in
the background. More about Jesus would I know, More of His grace to others
show, another hymn struck me like a hammer.
These are blessings, the knowledge and grace of Christ.
And the knowledge I has just received was about my lack
of showing His grace towards other, regardless of how much I
cared for them I had been equally disgraceful to everyone!
However,
blessings had to be windfalls, unforeseen boons, didn’t they?
Or was that the world’s view of blessings?
I don’t think my illness was a blessing but the
knowledge I gained was. Could
a blessing be unpleasant and challenging?
If it broke down walls I had built in a vain attempt to
segregate one part of my life from His lordship, then there was
a blessing. That
knowledge increased Him and decreased me, it put things in their
proper perspective, and it helped bring me back into that most
crucial relationship. Frustrations with the institution of the church and my health
left me bitter. I
had condemned the church for not reaching out to its
neighborhood. Now, confronted with Christ’s love and truth, I realized I
didn’t know the names of all my own neighbors, their needs or
lives. The
expectation for renewal of the church had to begin with having
the same expectations of myself.
Ouch how many more blessings could I take?
All
this happened in a matter of minutes, overcoming months of
self-centeredness. It
was not easy seeing what I had let things become. It was hard
describing my shortcomings to my wife.
An old lesson relearned for the umpteenth time: it’s
not God, why are you letting these things happen to me? But
Lord, what lesson are you teaching me though these
circumstances?
At
a fellowship after the service, it was easier to be with those I
had mistrusted and categorized.
I caught myself smiling at the normal pratfalls of the
youth and joining in conversations with those I wouldn’t have
spent a moment with last week.
Is
the church still less than I desire?
Am I still repairing relationships?
Can I be a better servant, in the church and my own
neighborhood? Will
I have doubt about the plans?
Yes to all. This
is not ignorance of an emotional bliss but a valuable lesson in
Christ calming the storm within me or around me.
All the situations persist and I must work through them.
Wanting
to advance the traditional church in postmodern terms remains.
Yearning for a service to and worship of Christ to be
simple, direct and devoid of human invention persists.
Its all supposed to be about Jesus and it isn’t.
Yet,
I am getting back to being happy, not in my circumstances but in
my Savior.
I
will arise and go to Jesus,
He
will embrace me in His arms;
In
the arms of my dear Savior,
O
there are ten thousand charms.
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Jody
Sneed is the husband of Gail and father of two sons, Matt and
Josh. He is a
non-profit agency executive director, deacon, teacher and all
around ragamuffin. jandgsneed@grandecom.net
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