Let’s be honest: We all like the things we like the way we like them. To pretend otherwise is disingenuous. To double-down on our preferences is domineering.
Liking the things we like the way we like them is not wrong. Our desires are not the enemy. In fact, desires are an oft-neglected way in which God leads us. He created us to have desires, and can guide us using them if we will bring them to him rather than either repressing them or thoughtlessly giving into them.
The heart wants what the heart wants. And that’s ok. Until it’s not. When our desires cause us to clench our fists—to control practices and people and outcomes—things can get unhealthy real quick. If, however, we can name our desires and yet hold our hands open—a surrender out of trust in God and respect for other people—then we are teeing up for a good time.
In my experience doing church together involves the near-constant friction of desires and expectations. Lots of sparks. Lots of discomfort. Which causes some to give up on the endeavor altogether. No judgment there. My favorite congregation, TBH, is the congregation that gathers in the Most Holy First and Bestest Church of Me, Myself, and I. The bummer for that congregation, of course, is that Jesus didn’t just call me to be his disciple, he called you, too.
Biblically speaking, there is no Christianity outside of the gathered Church. So here we are—with our strongly held preferences swirling in our hearts, and our reflexively clenching fists—trying to follow Jesus together.
Doing church together well requires open hands. When we open our hands we:
Release control. We let go of our influence, of our preferences, of our opinions. We can let go of our need to even have opinions. The thing is, once you have an opinion, that opinion has you. Once you name it to yourself, or voice it aloud to someone else, or post it on social media, you are now existentially obligated to that view. Marcus Aurelius famously wrote,
We have the power to hold no opinion about a thing, and to not let it upset our state of mind—for things have no natural power to shape our judgments.
—Meditations
Opinions take hold over our “state of mind.” But that doesn’t have to be the case. You don’t have to have an opinion about everything. Or even everything. You can live more freely and lightly.
Open up to the new. It’s hard to receive a new gift when you’re holding tightly to something old. Now, “old” is not necessarily “bad.” Not at all. In our current church revitalization context, for example, we’re trying to very intentionally marry the ancient and the modern: centuries-old prayers and fresh expressions of prayer; traditional liturgy and a flexible service order; hymns and pop songs; the rhythms of the church calendar and contemporary lifestyles.
The reality is that sometimes we’re simply have such disordered attachments to “the way we’ve always done it” that we can’t accept any change. Even if that change is for the greater good of the church family and for the mission of the Gospel. This is the core challenge of church revitalization, I think. And probably just doing church in general.
It’s worth holding on the old, but we also need the new. Open hands allow whatever is good of the old to remain, and also keeps us receptive to the new.
Hold others’ hands. When my kids were young, getting around was a challenge. They were newly mobile and wanted to walk wherever they wanted to walk, and they also came with a bunch of extra stuff. All the and water bottles and snack traps and wipes and doodads. Sometimes in order to hold their hand—especially in there was any danger, like when crossing a street—I had to set other stuff down. Or pack it away or just leave it in the car.
If we are to have any real camaraderie in the church, any tangible experience of unity, then we must have open hands. The more tightly my hands are gripped to the way I want to do Bible Study, or who I think should be leading some part of the service, or how we direct our funds, then the less I am able to hold your hand as a brother or sister in Christ. Until I let go and open my hands, we remain disconnected.
The Apostle Paul understood the importance of this for the local church:
Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.
—Philippians 2:3-4
In open-handed community me liking the things I like the way I like them is no more important than you liking the things you like the way you like them. That’s a tongue twister, for sure. And even more twisty to try to live out. But it’s worth it.