People laugh when I talk about someone at church getting on my nerves. Well, truthfully, I don’t always say it so nicely, so there’s that.
But as someone who is an Enneagram 2 and has always felt a need to serve in one way or another, I never understood people who complain about things, but never take a step to help fix or change them.
After one of these particularly troubling situations, I sat down to meditate on why this sort of thing troubled me as much as it did. And that’s when it came to me…
Church is a potluck. It’s not a restaurant.
And here’s what flowed out afterwards.
Church is a Potluck, Not a Restaurant: A Poem, Maybe?
Some people confuse what church is with what they think it should be.
They expect church to be a restaurant. They show up, get the seat they want, and the people there should serve them exactly what they want.
Things must be to their specifications, from the music to the lighting, and right down to even the message being given at the front.
They see the others there not as a community to be part of, but people to selectively associate with, if they know them well enough, are comfortable enough with them, or feel like they have the appropriate “status.”
The volunteers and the pastor are seen as those to order around and meet their whims, ignoring the hard work, oblivious to the sacrifices, and completely unaware of all the “crying that happens in the walk-in.” (IYKYK)
Meanwhile missing the point.
The church should be more like a potluck.
We don’t just show up expecting service. We do some work outside of it, and contribute of ourselves when we get there.
Sometimes the plates are mismatched. We may need to drag in a few extra chairs to whatever table they’ll fit at, and we’re willing to meet the people sitting at that table.
If there’s something we want there, whether a program, activity, or a standard of cleanliness, we roll up our sleeves and get to work.
We understand that not every job is for every person. Many will bring food. Some are bad at cooking and will do dishes. (Some are bad at cooking and will do “their best.”) Others may plan logistics to make sure that the entire thing isn’t bean salad. But everyone is contributing in their way.
And we understand that sometimes we won’t like everything there. Some things may not be our favorite, but it’s still up to us to show up, contribute for the good of others, and get our fill, focusing on the things we do enjoy.
And when we are full, we pitch in for cleanup, and inevitably leave with a bunch of butter bowls full of leftovers. Then it’s up to us to share that good with those who need it.
Church is not a restaurant to serve us only what we like and upon our demand.
Church is something to contribute to while we get that which fills us. It’s that thing that leaves us with a broader sense of community. Of knowing and being with others. And ultimately, of giving of oneself in whatever capacity may fit.
Church is not a restaurant, it’s a potluck.