Here I am Lord, But I Don’t Know Why!

Indiana Yearly Meeting, Day of Enrichment
Jay W. Marshall, Dean
Earlham School of Religion
April 6, 2002

“In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord . . .” So begins Isaiah’s vision in the temple–his call or perhaps his renewal to ministry. When God asks whom “shall I send and who will go for us,” Isaiah gives that well-known response, “Here I am, Lord. Send me.” What a brave response. It’s the one I’d hope to make, though there are no guarantees.

I began to notice how often people in the Bible said, “Here I am,” when God called. Moses said it out by the burning bush. Samuel said it when he was awakened during the night in the temple. In those moments when we sense a great call of God on our lives, like Isaiah, we are sometimes moved to beg, “send me!” A bit further down the road, after the initial burst of enthusiasm has burnt off, we may find ourselves saying, “Here I am, Lord, but I don’t know why.” Don’t know why I started this trip. Don’t know why I seem to be spinning my wheels. Don’t know why I keep playing this game. Don’t know why the church should be important anymore.

Though we may not say it in those exact words, I have heard that sentiment in those exasperated cries when people look at membership decline, or see many more empty seats than full pews on Sunday mornings. I hear it when people try to explain why participation in this sacred, but ancient, heritage is not so important. I see it in faces of those who realize that once we get beneath surface conversation we may have more disagreement than unity with people who worship among us.

“Here I am Lord, but I don’t know why!” I heard myself utter that statement just the other day, but I wasn’t in church. I was tagging along with my wife at an antique mall. We both enjoy browsing, and we like old stuff–which hopefully means that as we grow older, we’ll be even more attracted to one another than we are now!

I suppose I should not say I tag along after my wife, as though I don’t want to be there. Truthfully, I’d follow her most anywhere. And, sometimes, a visit to the antique mall is even my idea. I can’t really explain how that happens. Perhaps it’s caused by a change in atmospheric pressure. Maybe it is a sign of moral weakness on my part. But honestly, some days it is my idea, but I must say that I’ve started to have my fill.

For starters, “antique mall” seems like a contradiction of terms for me. The word “antique” implies that an object is old. Its value is more in its age than in its usefulness. Antiques are valuable, in part, because only a few of any particular item are available. Malls, on the other hand, are modern contraptions. They are about current fads, not past treasures. An object’s value lies in it being trendy–one of a multitude of similar items saturating the market–not in its rarity. So for me, the idea of an antique mall seems conceptually wrong from the outset. I knew we were entering a dangerous period in our lives when I heard the word antique used as a verb. Antique enthusiasts no longer go shopping for antiques. Now they go antiquing. My computer spell checker recognizes it as a verb, so it must be official by now! Call it an antique barn, and I could trust that. Call it an antique mall, and I start to get suspicious. It’s like searching for a grandmother in the newborn section. Who’d do that?

More than the name issue, I walk through so many of those “malls” and I see much more junk than I do items of value. Granted, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I don’t understand why that set of Flintstone glasses that Burger King gave away as a promotional item deserves the designation “antique.” And if these things are so valuable, why are we so eager to get rid of them?

Some days as I amble those antique mall aisles, I see something that stirs my soul. I observe something I’d really consider taking home and blend with the decor of my household. Most days, though, I look at the collections that clutter the shelves and think “my word, we Americans simply have too much stuff!” And it is not even useful stuff. Judi and I occasionally dream of what we’ll do when we retire. Two ideas whose time may come in our lifetime are these: we may open a useless gift shop, or perhaps an ugly art shop. There would never be a shortage of supplies for those places. And apparently, there is quite a market for each. Maybe we’ll diversify and opt for an “ugly, useless gift shop.”

We Americans have far too much stuff–useless stuff. Stuff on which we waste our precious resources and provide a home to, until finally we decide to clean house and send it to Goodwill or to an antique mall.

I think you can learn a lot about a person by observing what they hang on to, and observing what they discard. I think that is also true of our meetings and churches. In fact, there are ways in which meetings and antique malls serve similar functions for us! Antique malls are places where people store things they no longer wish to claim as their own, but which they are hopeful someone else will value enough to purchase for themselves. That realization caused me to see an important similarity between the antique mall and the church because on a very deep and significant level, that is problem facing today’s mainline churches.

This thought came to me in the midst of one of those strolls through the aisles of an antique mall in Indiana, and I observed a few items that helped carry this thought further. One day, as Judi and I wandered through a booth, we saw a beautiful picture frame. That didn’t strike me as unusual. Then, I noticed that the frame still had a picture in it. It was a family photo. It wasn’t one of those old black and whites of a single individual–a picture that looked antique. This was color, of a husband, wife, and several children. They looked to be from the 1960's. I burst out with this inexplicable laughter, seeing an entire family portrait sitting for sale in the antique mall. Suddenly a whole new weapon of discipline became clear–Johnny, Susie, if you two don’t stop that fighting right this instant, I’m going to give you to the antique mall. There have been occasions when I wished I could give away my family–well not the whole lot, maybe a sister one day, an uncle on another day.

It occurred to me that there are days–too many of them–when people’s view of the church resembles that family framed and waiting in the antique mall. “Here I am! Why am I here?” Because my family has been a member here for generations. We started this church. This is our church. I remember coming to VBS as a child. We used to play hide and seek in the cemetery. Youth group was a powerful experience to me (plus I sneaked my first kiss on the steps to the basement.). My grandfather’s funeral was here. I was married in this meeting–both times!

When we value the church primarily, or exclusively, for the memories it has created rather than its present importance or future hope, we shouldn’t be surprised to find that we are less than clear about why we are here. Current relevance will be an issue because, like it or not, we’re in an age where past loyalties do not motivate participation and allegiance.

A few rows over from the family portrait, I found a second symbol of how the church reminds me of an antique mall. I had never seen this exact item before. It was a little snow globe. Some people love those little things. I’ve seen them with a city skyscape, or nativity scene, or country cabin. Shake it up, set it on a table, and watch the snow settle gently all around. . . The one I saw that day made me laugh. It had no winter scene or sentimental landscape. All it had inside was a nun. There she was, wearing her black habit, looking a bit like a penguin lost in a snowstorm.I really wonder who bothered to make that item in the first place? What market did they think they’d tap into? And why, for goodness sake, is it worthy of “antique status?” But I also realized that day that meetings and churches are filled with people whose view of religion and the church is like that. Religion is primarily about entertainment value. You don’t really do much with it, but from time to time, it is fun to shake it up and watch it for a few moments. You might assume I mean those who attend only around major holidays like Christmas and Easter, and that is certainly one dimension. Another is that in many places, worship these days has become trendy! Wooing people with the latest fad has become more important than proclaiming truth, meaning that some who lead churches feel compelled to entertain worshipers as a means of attracting them to church. But even worse than that is the growing evidence that so many of us who do consider ourselves to be good, dedicated, upstanding members of the Body of Christ look to the paid staff to bear all responsibility for making our meetings vital. We’re there to be fed, stroked, satisfied and otherwise entertained. I have no doubt that is a far, far cry from what Jesus intended when he said to Peter that “upon this rock, a faith like yours, I build my church.” Truthfully, faith and worship life in this fashion really does belong in an antique mall because it is of no use except as a warm memory.

The other thing I found in a mall within a couple of hours of here really saddened me. There were several species of wild-game stuffed and mounted. I’ve never been that close to a rhino, or a giraffe–not even at the zoo. These once magnificent creatures, which roamed the land, now stood lifeless with a haunting emptiness in their eyes. I thought it was strange to see them in the antique mall. Then I noticed by each lifeless form was a framed photo of a hunter posed next to his recent kill. Now those of you who know me know that I’m not a fanatic about protecting wildlife. I have no problem with hunters who consume the things they kill. However, killing for sport grieves me. I didn’t realize how much until that day. But it also reminded me of a mentality, sometimes subtle and sometimes not, that confuses ministry with “bagging another prize” to add to our rolls. Among some really zealous evangelists, it is like a sport—we’re bagging souls for Jesus. That is just wrong (not evangelism–the conquering mentality). For Friends it seems the attitude has more to do with survival–if we could just get this family and that family, we’d have enough youth for a program. In this case, we’re hunting for vitality. Or if we could grow our membership, our budget woes would be relieved. In this case, we’re hunting for economic stability. Each of those seems like less than the highest of motives to me.

I do believe in the appropriateness of sharing the gospel and inviting others to join our faith, but I must say that an approach to meeting life, growth, programming or membership that stands over its converts like a conquered trophy has not been captivated and transformed by the Spirit of God’s love and grace. Such sharing should grow out of our understanding of God’s calling, our commitment to promote the good news, our love of humanity, and our faithfulness to ministry, rather than out of a need to feed egos about church size and success, or to support the organization and structures we’ve created over time and now refer to as the church.

What started in Acts as a grand response to the movement of the Spirit is, in many cases, a bit like an antique mall. Perhaps I am exaggerating the state of affairs in meetings in Indiana, but if so, it is more by the imagery I choose than by the tendency I describe. All around us, people cry out about the decline of mainline Christianity. It pains Quakers to think we’ve become mainline, but that is where we FUM folks are. We should be concerned!! It seems to me our first tendency is to ask, “how do we fix this?” That is a good question, but it is the wrong first question. I am convinced that a better starting point is to ask “Why Am I Here?” If we are here primarily because the church is a place of warm memories, or a provider of light entertainment, or a place where we store our trophies, then may God speed our decline and obliterate our memory, for we have surely outlived our usefulness to the work of God’s Spirit and God’s kingdom.

Here I am, Lord! Why am I here on aisle two, row four, three seats from the end of the pew, week after week, in this haven of religious antiques? Where we place the emphasis in the sentence changes its meaning. “WHY am I here?,” asks what is the cause or motivation or attraction for me. “Why am I HERE?” asks why this location? The first focuses on personal faith experience while the latter explores faith community affiliation. Asked together, they challenge us to think about the purpose of the church and our role within it. It is precisely at that point I fear many of us have lost our way. For while our meetings are rich in piety and respect, filled with people who want things in the world to “be right,” many woefully lack the dynamic power and vibrant energy that makes it obvious that meeting for worship is a place where God and humans are in intimate corporate conversation–the kind of conversation that invigorates and changes, and sends us forth committed to serve God and each other. It is my experience that when worship is of that caliber, and when community life bears the mark of that influence and direction, the “Why am I here?” question falls away. Instead of “Why am I here?” we meditate upon “how can I and we serve?”

We are not here to be spectators while someone else ministers. As enjoyable as the fellowship is, we are not here primarily because this is the best place to see our friends in one setting so that we catch up on the week’s events–though that can be an important part of community building. When Jesus established the church, I’m certain his primary focus was not upon investing huge sums of money into buildings that would then further drain our resources and reduce our ability to invest in ministry. I doubt he wants the most pressing decision of the day to be “should we pave the parking lot or re-upholster the pews,” and ultimately choose the parking lot because we can’t agree on what color fabric should be used on the pews. Jesus taught that when we have disagreements with one another, we go to that person and attempt to resolve the differences. That is different from working behind the scenes to recruit a group of like-minded individuals to agree with your position and publicly berate the opposing point of view.

“Here I Am! Why Am I Here?” We are here to be nurtured and fed by the Living Christ. We are here to connect with and grow with other members of the Body of Christ. We are here to give through our own gifts of ministry to the continuing work of God among us. Anything less is just “playing church” and that is a game that rightly belongs in an antique mall.