The Unfinished Church and Us
I’m not particularly interested in architecture, culture or history. That makes me sound pretty shallow, but I just get so bored. I don’t get the appeal of discussing spandrels, cresting, or lunettes (hint: I googled architecture words so I could give examples of stuff I don’t care about). When and why something was built doesn’t particularly interest me either. If it’s tall I wouldn’t mind being on top of it for the view but that’s about it. There are very few church buildings I care about.
But I cared about this one…
It’s called The Unfinished Church. I get it. I do. It’s located on the island of Bermuda and when you are surrounded by some of the most beautiful beaches in the world it’s probably easy to get a little distracted and procrastinate. That’s fine. What is more surprising is that this church “building” is one of the biggest tourist attractions on the island.
There’s something meaningful about that.
This incomplete thing, known for it’s imperfections draws the attention of all who pass by. I climbed the walls to get a better view of the inside. Despite warnings of the danger of falling debris I wanted to risk it and jump inside.
The brokenness and imperfection was appealing. I felt like the best place in the world would be to sit inside and be surrounded by it all.
Just yesterday at church someone mentioned to me how hard it is to come to church. Although she didn’t feel “judged” by anyone else she would always leave feeling judged by herself.
Like she didn’t stack up.
Like she didn’t belong.
Like her life was too broken to fit in with all the perfect people in church.
There is no more common or damaging lie within the church than that we are complete and finished. We have become very proficient at hiding behind a veneer of perfection…or normal…or happiness. And that may be more comfortable for those of us on the inside
But it’s not drawing a crowd. No one is climbing our walls to get a better view of what God is doing in our midst. None are willing to take a risk and jump inside. It’s sad. It’s sad because all a lie.
And our lie just isn’t all that appealing.