Editorial
Join the club
Are we offering club membership or Jesus?
It all began when our daughter found a way to explore her passion for horses. We’re fortunate to have in our area a youth organization that teaches teamwork and character through Western horsemanship and mounted drill teams. When we learned that we don’t have to own a horse to participate, we eagerly joined Westernaires.
We quickly learned that many of the rules aren’t in the handbook, but are a matter of 50-year tradition. Maps aren’t labelled with building nicknames. Official dress code doesn’t fully explain the significance of the various bandana colors. We’ve learned lingo, customs, and hierarchy mostly by trial-and-error. I groan every time the explanation is simply, “It’s the Westernaires way.”
The club seems to assume that we will cheerfully order the rest of our schedule around their events and activities. For example, we were told – not asked – which five consecutive Friday evenings our daughter would attend a required grooming class. And while I don’t mind volunteering in the kitchen, being told when to show up for duty somehow doesn’t feel like volunteering.
At one informational meeting, one young club member asked what to do if she had to miss a particular “mandatory attendance” event. The answer: You mean you have a life outside of Westernaires? Although the answer was tongue-in-cheek, all there chuckled in recognition of the assumption.
In spite of the ups and downs, we stuck with Westernaires and have even deepened our involvement for the second year. We do it because our teenager counts the days until her next ride and eagerly wakes before dawn to clean muck out of hooves. She has learned basic horsemanship and gained confidence and self-discipline. So far, the benefits have made club membership worthwhile.
Through this experience, I’ve learned something about what it means to “join the club.” It’s been eye opening – even disturbing – when I’m reminded of the words of Reggie McNeal. McNeal, both in speaking at the 2006 U.S. conference convention and as an author, compares the church in North America to a club. He doesn’t mean it as a compliment.
“In North America the invitation to become a Christian has become largely an invitation to convert to the church,” he writes in The Present Future. “The assumption is that anyone serious about being a Christian will order their lives around the church, shift their life and work rhythms around the church schedule, channel their charitable giving through the church, and serve in some church ministry.”
McNeal’s comparison makes me shudder. What if he’s right? Is that how my non-Christian friends view the church – as just another club, with its own dress code, traditions, lingo, and unwritten rules?
I don’t want my friends and neighbours to join the church “club” so much as I want them to know Jesus. But do they see that? When they look at my life, do they see a fervent club member or someone who loves Jesus? I’ve been thinking about this especially as it relates to my conversations.
I love my church. So it’s easy to talk about church events and to say things like, “We really like the sermons/youth group/music at our church. Why don’t you come?”
There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a clue that faith is an important part of my life. But sometimes my conversation needs to go further. I need to make it clear that church isn’t just another pull on an already-stuffed life; it’s all about Jesus. He’s the “benefit” that makes the “club commitment” worthwhile.
So, with God’s help, before I open my mouth I’ll consider whether I mean to say “church” or “Jesus.” It’s a simple, but not easy, difference. For example, when a non-Christian friend asks me my thoughts on the afterlife – as one did recently – will I say that my church teaches such-and-such, or that because I have a relationship with Jesus I look forward to seeing him face to face? And when I list the reasons I love my church, I could include the fact that I like the youth group because the adults challenge my teens to live for Jesus, I like the sermons because they focus on God’s Word, and I like the music because it helps me worship my Saviour.
I invite you to join me in this small challenge. In our conversations, let’s go further. Let’s talk about Jesus, not just the club.
Are we offering club membership or Jesus?
In this issue of the Herald, we’re discussing denominations – the challenges, joys, and benefits that come along with this facet of church life. Many people say we’re living in a post-denominational era, where labels and institutions just don’t matter anymore – that we should just call ourselves “Christians,” plain and simple. Others believe we need to regain a sense of loyalty and rootedness by once again discovering our denominational heritage. Whatever your view, we invite you to join the conversation. In the end, may we never lose sight of Jesus as we continue to talk about his church!—LK
It all began when our daughter found a way to explore her passion for horses. We’re fortunate to have in our area a youth organization that teaches teamwork and character through Western horsemanship and mounted drill teams. When we learned that we don’t have to own a horse to participate, we eagerly joined Westernaires.
We quickly learned that many of the rules aren’t in the handbook, but are a matter of 50-year tradition. Maps aren’t labelled with building nicknames. Official dress code doesn’t fully explain the significance of the various bandana colors. We’ve learned lingo, customs, and hierarchy mostly by trial-and-error. I groan every time the explanation is simply, “It’s the Westernaires way.”
The club seems to assume that we will cheerfully order the rest of our schedule around their events and activities. For example, we were told – not asked – which five consecutive Friday evenings our daughter would attend a required grooming class. And while I don’t mind volunteering in the kitchen, being told when to show up for duty somehow doesn’t feel like volunteering.
At one informational meeting, one young club member asked what to do if she had to miss a particular “mandatory attendance” event. The answer: You mean you have a life outside of Westernaires? Although the answer was tongue-in-cheek, all there chuckled in recognition of the assumption.
In spite of the ups and downs, we stuck with Westernaires and have even deepened our involvement for the second year. We do it because our teenager counts the days until her next ride and eagerly wakes before dawn to clean muck out of hooves. She has learned basic horsemanship and gained confidence and self-discipline. So far, the benefits have made club membership worthwhile.
Through this experience, I’ve learned something about what it means to “join the club.” It’s been eye opening – even disturbing – when I’m reminded of the words of Reggie McNeal. McNeal, both in speaking at the 2006 U.S. conference convention and as an author, compares the church in North America to a club. He doesn’t mean it as a compliment.
“In North America the invitation to become a Christian has become largely an invitation to convert to the church,” he writes in The Present Future. “The assumption is that anyone serious about being a Christian will order their lives around the church, shift their life and work rhythms around the church schedule, channel their charitable giving through the church, and serve in some church ministry.”
McNeal’s comparison makes me shudder. What if he’s right? Is that how my non-Christian friends view the church – as just another club, with its own dress code, traditions, lingo, and unwritten rules?
I don’t want my friends and neighbours to join the church “club” so much as I want them to know Jesus. But do they see that? When they look at my life, do they see a fervent club member or someone who loves Jesus? I’ve been thinking about this especially as it relates to my conversations.
I love my church. So it’s easy to talk about church events and to say things like, “We really like the sermons/youth group/music at our church. Why don’t you come?”
There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a clue that faith is an important part of my life. But sometimes my conversation needs to go further. I need to make it clear that church isn’t just another pull on an already-stuffed life; it’s all about Jesus. He’s the “benefit” that makes the “club commitment” worthwhile.
So, with God’s help, before I open my mouth I’ll consider whether I mean to say “church” or “Jesus.” It’s a simple, but not easy, difference. For example, when a non-Christian friend asks me my thoughts on the afterlife – as one did recently – will I say that my church teaches such-and-such, or that because I have a relationship with Jesus I look forward to seeing him face to face? And when I list the reasons I love my church, I could include the fact that I like the youth group because the adults challenge my teens to live for Jesus, I like the sermons because they focus on God’s Word, and I like the music because it helps me worship my Saviour.
I invite you to join me in this small challenge. In our conversations, let’s go further. Let’s talk about Jesus, not just the club.
—Myra Holmes, guest editorialist
Myra Holmes is assistant editor of the 