First church of Ashley.

My church preemptively canceled Wednesday night services, due to four inches of snow. We could learn something from those Minnesota Lutherans. Their Jesus shows up (albeit in snow pants, and one of those funny hats with the earflaps). Ours apparently rocks some flip-flops, and a tee-shirt (probably one with a rhinestone eagle on it, as pastors seem to be hip to these days).

Anyhow, seeing as I’m a church nerd, I called around to find another service. Closed. Closed. Closed some more. In a town of 500 churches, I was destined be un-churched last night. And then, inspiration.

The First Church of Ashley. First, we rocked out to Ben Folds’ “Jesusland” on repeat for several minutes. Child, testify! Then, there was a reading of the first 15 chapters of Jeremiah (hot stuff). And finally, a message. A message-ette, really, as by that time, I was exhausted by all of the secular rocking, and Old Testament wrath.

A friend of mine from home has this theory. She says that when we call one another “Brother,” it serves to remind us of our intimate connection with one another in Christ, and causes us to treat each other more kindly. Ergo, if we call one another “pastor,” it should remind us of our responsibility to know and understand God’s Word, and cause us to apply ourselves to such scholarship.

In that spirit, Pastor Ashley then gave the message-ette in the esteemed, but poorly-attended First Church of Ashley:

Good evening, overeager pharisaical pricks/Sunday Christians/truly committed/snobby elite/cowards looking for comfort/argumentative girl in the third row. I hope that this evening finds you all feeling great after your weeks of condemning others/watching Football/feeding the poor/throwing dinner parties/working/writing blog posts about me.

Look here, I can't promise you that God will show you favor if you do what the Bible says. At least not any favor that we might recognize as such. I can't even tell you that I'm certain about my own understanding of the Bible. God's understanding is a gift from Him alone. So if you're here because you want twelve steps to a better life, you'd best find another church. There are plenty out there that can hook you up. I can tell you how I think God wants us to live. Whether or not living that way leads to a great life filled with material comforts, or endless trouble until the moment of our last breath, that's for God to know. But no matter what, please remember that you exist at His whim. That has to be worth something. If not love, then fear, and all knowledge begins with the fear of the Lord. So don't take comfort in a hope for a better life here, because this isn't comfortable. Don't be "good," don't pray, don't tithe, don't fast, because someone has led you to believe that doing those things is any kind of assurance of good things on earth. It's not. The circumstances of your life might suck. And the lazy son-of-a-married-couple down the street will win the lottery.

See, people, we’re in for the long game. The long, messy, confusing, and sometimes painful game. Then again, sometimes joyful. There will be joy. There will be laughter, and, if you are so blessed as to understand the true meaning of God’s favor, there will be inestimable power. But I can guarantee you that if you do this thing real, at some point, you will want out. This will seem too hard, too confusing. The sacrifices will seem too great. You’ll turn to the left, and the right, and say, “Father, who are you?” You will cry yet.

I am not convinced that such moments aren’t among His greatest glories.

Though our minds are bound in time and place, our hearts--they know the infinite. So I can’t promise you comfort, or security, or even certainty. Even if you are willing to be uncertain here with me, if you’re willing to commit to something that will at times be wildly uncomfortable, the most I can promise is a life spent together, seeking God. I say seeking not because we’re not with Him. We are always with Him. Or rather, He is always with us. I say that we will spend our lives seeking because though we will one day know, today we do not. Today, we struggle to understand, though one day we will look upon Him.

If this message doesn’t soothe you, take heart—it’s not meant to. We are not equals with God. His Church is not a democracy. Or a day care, or a therapy group, or an investment firm. We don’t serve Him to be given something, but because we have already received. And the knowledge of that gift, of His continuing gifts, illuminates the path ahead. Not all of it. Not much of it, really. Maybe a step, or two, or three…

Where those steps will lead might not be beautiful to us. Sacrifice is rarely beautiful but in the whole, in the context. But I do believe that our sacrifice is beautiful to God. And thus, when our lives seem most ugly, and disorderly, and less comfortable than we’d like, may just be the moments when they form a most breath-taking view from Heaven.

Go in peace. And don't forget to watch 30 Rock tomorrow.