trees
There was a forest behind the neighborhood I grew up in. Perhaps 2 or 3 acres of trees doesn't qualify as a forest, but it seemed much larger to me. I would wander through it every now and again. If I lost my way, I would look for a certain uniquely-shaped tree. Once I found it, I knew I wasn't far from the path that would lead me home.
I've been thinking quite a bit about that forest recently. Anyone who knows me in real life will surely laugh at the idea that I know anything about trees, and I readily admit that's true. But I did know that one tree and I knew it well, though in all fairness, it was so unusually shaped that it would have been nearly impossible not to take note of it. But what if I had been preoccupied with the enormity of the forest? Would I have noticed that tree?
There's an expression, You can't see the forest for the trees. Lately I've been wondering if the church has fallen victim to that mentality. Not that I discount the value or necessity of seeing the overall picture, but shouldn't believers be occupied with the details? Shouldn't we be taking notice of the unique aspects of each person - each tree, if you will - in front of us?
As I've been thinking through this, I'm reminded of Paul's epistles. Paul did not exhort the church at Ephesus to concern themselves with the church at Galatia. He did not tell the church at Rome to worry about whatever was going on in Philipi. Although the unchanged gospel is woven through each letter, he encourages each church differently. Jesus, likewise, has different messages for the seven churches in Revelation. Each church is unique, with its own set of challenges and quirks. God has put me in my particular church body, with those those unique challenges and quirks, as part of my sanctification. And there's enough sanctifying work to be done, if I will just focus on it.
Yet I'm often guilty of allowing the enemy to pull my eyes toward what's going on out there in the forest, so that I fail to see the trees. I fail to notice the hurts and joys of those around me, to get to know their gnarls and branches. I could blame social media, but it's my own sinful heart that needs examination. When I give too much attention to comments on the latest controversy made by well-known pastors, authors, and theologians, am I failing to acknowledge that God has placed me under the teaching of one pastor? When I join the outcries because such comments have not been forthcoming, am I forgetting that even the well-known pastor has been given charge over just one church? When I give a public pastor, author, or theologian too much influence in my own life, am I failing to live out Hebrews 13:17? Am I hindering my pastor from living it out as well?
The Lord used social media to bring me Reformed Theology. He's given me a set of online friends who have helped me to wrestle through doctrine and life. I will be forever thankful for that. These truths are life-giving. These friendships have a special place in my heart and life. But there is something precious about gathering around a dinner table with those I worship alongside. There is something sweet about seeing a sister's face and holding her hand as she shares her prayer concern. There is something that happens deep inside me each week when my church family stands together and reads responsively the Word of God. In each of these, I am reminded that God has given me the grace of fellow saints on this journey toward Heaven. And I realize that no matter the forest, I want to see the trees.
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I've been thinking quite a bit about that forest recently. Anyone who knows me in real life will surely laugh at the idea that I know anything about trees, and I readily admit that's true. But I did know that one tree and I knew it well, though in all fairness, it was so unusually shaped that it would have been nearly impossible not to take note of it. But what if I had been preoccupied with the enormity of the forest? Would I have noticed that tree?
There's an expression, You can't see the forest for the trees. Lately I've been wondering if the church has fallen victim to that mentality. Not that I discount the value or necessity of seeing the overall picture, but shouldn't believers be occupied with the details? Shouldn't we be taking notice of the unique aspects of each person - each tree, if you will - in front of us?
As I've been thinking through this, I'm reminded of Paul's epistles. Paul did not exhort the church at Ephesus to concern themselves with the church at Galatia. He did not tell the church at Rome to worry about whatever was going on in Philipi. Although the unchanged gospel is woven through each letter, he encourages each church differently. Jesus, likewise, has different messages for the seven churches in Revelation. Each church is unique, with its own set of challenges and quirks. God has put me in my particular church body, with those those unique challenges and quirks, as part of my sanctification. And there's enough sanctifying work to be done, if I will just focus on it.
The Lord used social media to bring me Reformed Theology. He's given me a set of online friends who have helped me to wrestle through doctrine and life. I will be forever thankful for that. These truths are life-giving. These friendships have a special place in my heart and life. But there is something precious about gathering around a dinner table with those I worship alongside. There is something sweet about seeing a sister's face and holding her hand as she shares her prayer concern. There is something that happens deep inside me each week when my church family stands together and reads responsively the Word of God. In each of these, I am reminded that God has given me the grace of fellow saints on this journey toward Heaven. And I realize that no matter the forest, I want to see the trees.
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