When you feel like the naked emporer

There are days when I wonder if I’m the emperor, the one with no clothes. Because sometimes the phrases, language, and words we use in this life of faith are stale, old, tired.

Photo Credit: epSos.de (Creative Commons)

We sang songs this weekend with the little ones at church. The old standards: “Jesus Loves Me”, “The B-I-B-L-E”, “This Little Light of Mine.” And these tiny people, just barely out of diapers, are being taught about God and faith with rhythm and rhyme that will remain in the recesses of their memories forever.

I learned them too, sitting in a circle wearing terry cloth red shorts and a rainbow-colored shirt. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.”

I believed them. I walked the aisle and prayed the prayer. I read my Bible periodically and was mostly a good girl. And even when we married and spent a few years away from the church, we didn’t change our lifestyle.

Near the end of that time, when our son was born, came the questioning. What is a life of faith? Is there a God and is he who I’ve heard he is? Can a thinking person believe without jettisoning all reason and logic? These questions, they chased me around for months until I picked up a copy of Mere Christianity. C.S. Lewis’ chapter on “The Great Sin” of pride nearly did me in.

Life after Lewis became different because I knew I could be a thinking person and still believe. As I slowly asked questions and tried to live what I saw in the Bible, I changed. If this God is real, he demands more than simple Sunday mornings and a Bible on my bedside. He demands all of me.

Step by step he was gracious to confirm His word as we followed. Quick to chastise when we chose the wrong path, and gracious to guide. I know that. And it’s important to remember when I think about the naked emperor.

I see a theme emerging among some Christians. It’s a post-evangelical, I-don’t-need-the-church-as-I’ve-experienced-it, God-is-not-who-I-thought-he-was mindset. Evangelicalism is seen as a mindless, thoughtless, loveless lockstep of assimilated compatriots who parrot catch phrases, eat chicken sandwiches and share silly Jesus images on Facebook. Indeed there are those who make this argument easy.

It’s as if some have discovered the emperor naked, found themselves naked too, and are on a mission to clothe all of naked Christendom. I know how they feel. There are times I want to join the refrain.

But I don’t because what I know of my own heart tells me that I want to be right — often more than I want to be faithful. I can get so wrapped up in making an argument that I lose sight of what I’m defending.

And even though she’s wildly imperfect, sometimes traitorous, and has a history of being on the wrong side of the cross, the Church is God’s chosen vehicle to do His work in the world. She is the bride for which He will return. God has given us no other mechanism by which to live in community.

There are times when we must speak out. When children are abused, money is embezzled, or power is misappropriated, the individuals responsible must be held accountable. Brave people must stand between victims and victimizers. But we must also make a distinction between abusive individuals and the body of Christ. God is real, even when people who claim his name are not faithful.

And this truth, this relationship with a loving, powerful, just and merciful God assures me that I am not the naked emperor. My covering does not come from an ability to make an argument, or an attempt to reform the Church universal, or a host of people who agree with my political leanings. If I am to be covered at all it will be by Christ, by his perfection for my failure, by his sacrifice for my freedom, by his love over my apathy.

A church of people who understand this will be a bride fit for her groom.

Linking today with Emily and Jennifer.