There are a few things in life that you can absolutely depend upon—and I’m not thinking right now about family, good friends, or the grace of God. I’m talking about those little plot twists in life that take you by surprise and frustrate you beyond belief—until you realize that they’re not plot twists at all. They’re actually the predictable parts of my life’s storyline. For example: if I decide to grab a quick dinner while I’m out running errands, there will inevitably be a meal waiting for me at home. If I forget my umbrella, the clouds will darken and the floodgates will open. If I have more than enough time to style my hair in the morning, the result will be subpar (at best). All of these situations can, of course, work in the reverse: forgoing Taco del Mar means that there will be no dinner at home, an umbrella brings the sun out in full force, and 12 minutes with the curling iron looks like an hour. Those are the predictable plot-twists in life.
There is another dependable aspect to life—one that I like to call the Kia Sedona Phenomenon (KSP). Here’s how KSP works: whenever you consider buying a new car, the scales will immediately be lifted from your eyes, and you’ll realize that nearly everyone else in the world has just purchased the exact make and model that you want. No matter how obscure or unique you think your car is, the roads will suddenly be filled with them. I’m assuming that the same rule applies to baby names and new handbags. There’s no explaining it. It’s KSP.
I’ve recently been experiencing a little KSP here in Belfast, but it’s been more of a sobering realization rather than the annoyance you feel at the sight of Subaru Outbacks clogging up the freeway. You see, during my first week here, I saw a church with a wall around it.
But it wasn’t just any wall. It was a wall with frayed metal spikes protruding from the bricks—it was the sort of wall you really weren’t supposed to climb. There was a gate at this church, too, and as you can probably guess, it was closed. This wall was guarding the squat brick church and twenty pristine parking spaces, their lines clean and stark against the pavement.
Now here’s the other important thing about this church: its building, its wall, and its car park sit right in the heart of a government housing estate. It is surrounded by rows of brick houses, unruly plots of grass, and crumbling sidewalks. Some of the murals on the houses have been repainted to portray children holding hands and playing games—but others still show masked men with guns.
Now, this next bit is just me speculating, but…the fact that this church cradles its parking spaces means that its members don’t come from the nearby houses—they have to drive a distance to get to church. Now I’m sure that these members are wonderful people, and when the gate opens on Sunday morning, they take their regular parking spaces and their regular pew. And I’m sure they’ve wondered why so few people from the surrounding estate attend Sunday morning worship.
Now here’s where KSP comes into play: after that first week, I’ve seen churches with walls all over this city. But then the KSP caused me to have an even more sobering realization: Belfast isn’t the first place I’ve seen churches with walls. I’ve seen them before in the States…and I’ve seen them in me. Now, these walls aren’t necessarily made of brick—they’re often made of attitudes, routine, and a focus on the things within. And that sort of wall is even harder to scale than the sort with the frayed metal spikes.
I’ve strengthened this wall when I forgot that there are important ministries outside of those that take place on a Sunday morning. I’ve fortified it when I said that my church needs to sort out its own problems before it can effectively reach out to the surrounding community. And I shut the iron gate when I wondered why people weren’t taking the initiative to come through the church doors themselves.
Through some of my work at Dundonald this year, I believe that God is trying to teach me to be quicker to recognize the needs of the families that live in those surrounding brick houses. He’s showing me that the church will never be perfect, but He is big enough to use us right now, in spite of our imperfections. And He is helping me to realize that some people might never take the initiative to come in through the church doors…so we have to go out to them and meet them in the place where they are.
All this from a little KSP.
