Are we Missing the Point of Gathering?

We learn a lot about ourselves as we consider what we desire. As congregations discuss a
return to face to face gatherings, I’ve tried to pay attention to the desires
that drive us to return to physical gatherings. One powerful force motivating
many is the exercise of religious freedom. The freedom to worship when and how
we please lies at the core of the American experience. Many Christians view
social distancing directives as a threat to religious liberty and a violation
of a basic constitutional right. In a few cases some officials may have crossed
the line, but in my experience, most Christians believe government leaders
simply desire to protect the people they serve and are not bent on restricting
the practice of Christian faith. Still, the exercise of an individual right
motivates many to regather in church as quickly and fully as possible..

Perhaps a more prevalent motivation for reopening church arises from the desire to
gather again with our faith communities. We miss our friends and the fellowship
of like minded people. Judaism and Christianity are deeply communal religions
rooted in the fact that human beings are created to be with others. The church
has always found ways to gather. This desire to assemble and be with those we
love motivates the vast majority of those who long to reopen their congregation
for face to face gatherings.

But as I listen to conversations about regathering one motivation seems
strikingly absent. Consider Psalm 27. As the psalmist faced a time of fear and danger,
he writes of his one overriding desire. He doesn’t long for a resolution to his
troubles or a return to normalcy. Instead the Psalmist pleads…

One thing I ask from the Lord,
    this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
    and to seek him in his temple. Ps. 27:4

The pursuit of God motivates the psalmist more than all other desires. He longs to
dwell in the house of the Lord. For the ancient Israelites the temple was not
simply a place where one worshipped. Instead it was the place where God
manifested himself in a unique and tangible way. God had a history of doing
this for Israel. We call these manifestations theophanies - a burning bush, a
cloud and pillar of fire, the “man” who wrestled with Jacob. Sometimes the infinite
God became finite because he understands the human need to experience his
presence. Thus when Solomon completed the temple, the glory of God filled the
sanctuary and God dwelt among his people. The temple was the place Israel
encountered God.

I find it curious that more folks don’t connect reopening church with seeking
God’s presence. Perhaps it is because we understand God’s omnipresence. I
can meet with God on my back deck or hiking in the mountains. We understand
that God can not be confined to a building.

We do well to remember the Israelites also viewed God as omnipresent. On the day
King Solomon dedicated the temple, as God’s presence filled the temple, Solomon
prayed,

“But will God really dwell on earth? The heavens, even the highest heaven, cannot
contain you. How much less this temple I have built!” (I Kings 8:27).

Solomon understood the temple could not contain his glory. Yet God graciously gave
Israel a finite manifestation of his presence. It was an act of grace. And the
Israelites embraced this grace because they longed to be with God.

How deep is our desire to be with God? Do we seek him and long to dwell in his
presence?

Heavily influenced by western individualism, we can easily forget the ancient Christian
idea that the mystical presence of Christ rests on the gathered assembly. The
apostle Paul spoke in such terms: “Now you are the body of Christ, and each one
of you is a part of it.” (I Cor. 12:27). The early church understood itself as
the Body of Christ and believed that when the community of believers gathers
the presence of Christ is revealed in a unique way. The gathering takes on a
sacramental dimension as Christ’s presence becomes more palpable. The presence
of bread and wine reinforces the tangible presence of God in our midst.

I’m glad my brothers and sisters long to assemble again for worship. But I wonder
if our motivation to do so exposes something deep about what we truly long for
and value. I value my religious rights as an American. They are a gift. I value
my friends with whom I worship. I was created to serve and worship with them.
If I am not careful, however, I can make regathering at church about my rights
or about people when it should be first and foremost about encountering God
through the mysterious and wonderful gifts of the Body of Christ.

In Psalm 73, the psalmist describes a conflicted time when what he believes is
contradicted by what he sees in the world. He sees pain and suffering and an
uncertain life for the righteous. The evidence seems to contradict his belief
that God is good to those who are pure in heart. His experience challenges his
faith and a disorienting frustration has set in. He writes in vs. 16,

“When I tried to understand all this, it troubled me deeply”

The psalmist has reached the limits of reason. Some things do not make sense regardless
of how much we try to think them through. Despite his best efforts to make
sense of life, the psalmist arrived as a point of desperation… “until I entered
the sanctuary of God” (vs. 17). Life only began to make sense when the psalmist
entered the temple and experienced God’s presence there.

More than my “rights”, more than my need to see friends, what I most need is to experience
the presence of God in the proclamation of the Word, the celebration of the
Table and in the gathering of saints in whom our God dwells.