Thoughts From a Leaky Roof
Ah, camp meeting.
For those of you who have no clue what a camp meeting was, every year around this season, the Adventist churches in the western slope would gather together for the purpose of fellowshipping, worshiping, and studying with friends and family that we didn't usually see all year. We had this yearly meeting at a campground of our choosing. People would show up with, Well, this year I was given the option to stay in a little cabin room for the night, and seeing that a storm was approaching, I gladly accepted it. The evening settled into a gentle roar of wind and lightning. I was content and grateful to be in the comfort of this roofed building. In all previous years, I had pitched my tent in a clearing to enjoy "The True Spirit of Camping" (TM). This year I would endure no such discomforts. I rolled into bed after laying out my things. I smiled though I missed my wife and daughters. This little cabin bed wasn't half bad, actually. My eyes closed as I listened to the distant thunder and the splatter of rain thrown to and fro by the rushing gusts of wind. I love the sounds of rain and storms. Their cadence and whisperings were lulling me to sleep.
Then I heard it.
Drip.
Drip.
...
Drip.
"Well, shoot," I groaned and rolled out of bed to find the light. I must have been well on my way to the land of dreams because it took my eyes a little while to adjust and see what I already knew. The roof was leaking.
The dripping paused for enough for me to hope and then resumed as a full-on faucet splattering down to the floor. Any comfort I had, disappeared in that instant. I stood there in disbelief. Dumbfounded. How was this even happening?! I scrambled to get my phone and call the staff. I didn't find it in my phone and couldn't find it online because (shocker) my signal was spotty. I quickly remembered that the camp director had mentioned that his number was posted at the mess hall. Bundled in my warmest August summer attire, I stepped into the night. I wrestled the wind and squinted against the battering rain. Every little drop was cold and annoying. The thunder sounded significantly louder now that there wasn't an entire edifice between me and the sky. The flashes of lightning blinded me. I was no longer enjoying the storm.
Turns out there's a big difference in enjoying the storm and its sounds when I'm safe and comfortable in my protected dwelling. Once I have to be in the storm, however, then I'm not enjoying it so much. There's a word for this cognitive disconnect. When something dangerous, difficult, or depressing is stripped of its danger to the point that it can become enjoyable or merchandisable, you can think of this as "commodification."
For American slave owners in pre-Civil War America, the cheap labor and uncontested abuse of blacks was a commodity. Slavery was commodified. If this example bothers you, congrats! Acknowledging the reality or danger of a situation moves you away from commodification. If it didn't bother you, we'd have different problems.
That night at the camp meeting, I was thrust out from seeing the storm as a commodity and into seeing it as a real danger.
It is normal for developed nations to slowly slip into a state of mass commodification. Think of the produce that you purchase at the grocery store. You did not suffer heat and labor and months of cultivation to attain those groceries. If you want an apple or even a foreign exotic fruit, you need only plop that fruit into your grocery cart and check out. It's a commodity. You do not need to suffer and mine for the rare precious metals in the processing unit essential to every modern electronic device you own. You just had to have the money to buy it. When we watch true crime on tv or watch WWII footage, we are commodifying the most horrific parts of our human history from the comfort of our couches.
This isn't a moral issue. The Bible has nothing to say on the matter of commodification. However, it does say that following Christ comes with steep costs and consequences. Our modern developed post-Christian nation enjoys freedoms and safeties that were informed at some time by Christian values. I'd even argue it still is. Take one look at the New Testament church--especially in the book of Acts, and you will quickly realize how commodified the Christian lifestyle has become. Today, evangelism is a package that we can purchase. Today, belonging to the body of Christ means signing your name on a baptismal certificate. Today, church involvement means greeting people at the door or reading the Bible passage during the worship service preliminaries. No danger. No life on the line. No persecution. Not here in the developed world.
I think it's this that bothers me most, not that we have it so easy, but rather that we make up challenges and persecutions instead of enjoying our safety.
As I bundled up in my car to sleep that night, rain and thunder sounding right outside my windshield, I remembered these words:
"But God remembered Noah..." -Gen 8:1
It's hard for me to not think of Noah when it rains. Something I think of as so beautiful and calming was once the most devastating event in human history. The first rainfall cleansed the earth of evil with a flood, albeit for a time.
I wondered that night, as my eyes closed, were there ever any leaks aboard the ark? Despite any discomfort, the safest place during the flood was, indeed, in that very ark. I wonder if the devil ever tried to tempt Noah with little drops of rain on his face as he drifted to sleep. I wonder if Noah chose instead to be grateful for the blessing of shelter from the very wrath of God. Can you imagine the foolishness that it would have been to exit the ark in an angry huff because the roof was leaking?
That's how I can't help but imagine God sees those of us who exit our communities of faith over such little things. Personal qualms and offenses, financial and organizational disagreements, hurt feelings, and even abuse have all been listed as motivators for leaving the community of Christ. I don't mean to minimize your hurt or struggle when I say that perhaps we are better off in the ark if we find the roof is leaking -- especially if the roof is leaking. Friend, the leak may even be quite big, but that should be all the more reason to seek to save a sinking church, a sinking ark.
I'm glad I didn't just go home that night and that I stayed for a camp meeting. I had a very nice time. I decided to have a nice time. I looked for opportunities to have a nice time. I enjoyed the singing and the preaching and the bible study panel I got to be a part of. I even enjoyed many of the meals! But I also made sure to make that call late at night for someone to come and help fix the leaks.
I hope you don't leave this blog thinking that the leaks shouldn't bother us; rather, I hope we will remember that leaks can be fixed. I hope we will remember that a roof is a commodity many who came before us maybe never had. We should remember that such commodities are a privilege and not a requirement or a guarantee of the Christian experience.
-pastor Eli