For three weeks now, I've been contemplating the fact that on Sunday, June 20, 2010, churches across America were called to mourn the two-month anniversary of the oil spill, the resulting devastation of the lives of Gulf Shore residents, the damage to the environment, the impact on the economy of the region, and our complicity in the disaster, as we are addicted to and dependent upon such a toxic substance to fuel our unsustainable lifestyles. For twenty-one days now I have been contemplating the fact that my church did not engage in mourning on that Sunday. Instead, there were balloons on the stage, and we ate birthday cake bearing the words "Jesus throws the best parties." After three weeks of thinking, I still don't know what to make of all this.
Are we just too self-interested as a body of people to take time to pay attention to the world around us? Are we too busy singing happy-clappy bullshit praise and worship music to feel compassion? Are we afraid to mourn? Do we use our worship service as a way to thrust our head in the sand and pretend all is well? Is there so much emphasis on being spiritually full that we lack the inclination to empty ourselves? Is this why we fail to fast, or even really pray?
A couple of weeks ago at the prison I stumbled upon this hymn in the Baptist Hymnal.
When the Church of Jesus
shuts its outer door,
lest the roar of traffic
drown the voice of prayer:
may our prayers, Lord, make us
ten times more aware
that the world we banish
is our Christian care.
If our hearts are lifted
where devotion soars
high above this hungry, suffering world of ours:
lest our hymns should drug us
to forget its needs,
forge our Christian worship
into Christian deeds.
Lest the gifts we offer,
money, talents, time,
serve to salve our conscience
to our secret shame:
Lord, reprove, inspire us
by the way You give;
teach us, dying Saviour,
how true Christians live.
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