dear Church

Sang Lintakoon

dear Church,

i love you, i really do.

i’m reminded of something james baldwin once said about america the beautiful: “i love america more than any other country in the world and, exactly for this reason, i insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.”

i resonate with that statement, Church. and for that reason i need to pen this letter to you, in hopes that you will: first, receive it second, open it third, read it fourth, hear it fifth, absorb it and lastly, that you will bring these words before the throne of God and ask Him to show you the parts of it that are true and pure so that you can become more like the God you claim to follow.

i know that outlining those steps may seem a bit patronizing, but there is a reason your morning coffee says, “caution: hot drink” on the label. please sip this letter slowly.

i love you, Church. and for that reason i must speak frankly with you—look into my eyes; are you okay? are you safe?

the way you have stood so upright and emotionless with your head turned ever-so-slightly in the other direction when so many of God’s children are crying out in agony is completely antithetical to the reason you were birthed.

the way you cling so tightly to what you claim is absolute truth and the arrogance that is being generated out of seminaries and church leadership programs grieves my heart and you know what? i dare say a big part of it grieves God’s heart too.

i imagine God watching you learn, grow, expand, and trying your damnedest to check all the boxes to “be right” with Him, all while ignoring the possibility of not knowing it all, the possibility of wonder, the possibility of another perspective having even an ounce of truth to it. i wonder, Church, what it is you are so scared of?

i know you mean well, Church. i really do. i have been a close friend for many years. i have stood by you when others have walked away, when others have misunderstood you, when others have grown discouraged and lost hope for (and in) you. i have stood faithfully beside you and humbly received your correction when needed while also challenging you in areas that i’ve seen needed help. you have expressed your gratitude for my boldness and said and done all the right things to appear civil, just, and fair on paper, but i’m afraid you’ve never really heard me.

jesus was spot-on when He called your leaders white-washed tombs—beautiful on the outside but filled with rotting carcasses on the inside. outwardly righteous but inwardly hypocrites.

let me ask you, Church, when you read those passages where jesus criticizes the religious leaders of His day, do you ever stop to consider that you could very well be the religious leader in the story? (yes, you, dear reader.) do you ever, for a second, allow yourself to consider the possibility that your devotion to God, while admirable and well-intentioned, could be missing the mark that jesus came to recenter?

the arrogance that i have seen permeate western christianity and then be exported to the ends of

the earth grieves me. this is not the good news. this is not what God has called you to.

wake up, Church. wake up and look around you. look at the influence that you have in your streets, in your neighborhoods, in your cities, in your states. look at the ways your love is handed out with conditions. look at the inconsistencies the world sees in your smiling faces that turn around and exclude those who don’t smile back. do you see the blue and white stripes of your tallit garment fade into the distance as your neighbors are left wanting on your front doorstep, hungry and alone but at least equipped with a bumper sticker of your establishment?

it is laughable.

when christ demonstrated the characteristics of the unseen God, He showed us that this God is holy, pure, kind, gentle, humble, compassionate, merciful, gracious, peaceful, and loving. He shared stories about shepherds leaving their 99 sheep in search of their one lost sheep. He shared stories about feasts being thrown for sons who returned home after squandering the family inheritance. He showed us tangible ways to sit at tables and dine with those whom society deemed “unclean.”

Church, why don’t you look more like your Christ?

i wonder if the good news can still become good news to a watching world if you somehow learned to emulate your God better. if you could truly stop to understand what it means to be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to be angry (or defensive). if you could stop long enough to: first, humble yourself second, listen third, enter into the pain and suffering of those who entrust you with it and lastly, set your facts and agendas aside long enough to extend compassion, love, and kindness to the imago Dei in front of you.

the greatest commandment is to love God with your all. the second greatest commandment is to love people the way you love yourself.

“the way you love yourself.” oh Church, i fear you do not even know how to fully love yourself because you have been so conditioned to squeeze yourself into boxes of certain dimensions. so much time has passed that your contorted body has even become used to the rigid angles, the lack of oxygen, the protective bubble wrap between you and the world of heathens.

what would happen if you stepped out of the box? what would happen if you stretched out your legs and took a few steps? what would happen if your lungs could be filled with the air that it’s been so desperately needing?

wake up, Church. go outside and smell the different flowers, taste the different fruit, hear the greetings of people who speak different languages than you. humble yourself and explore like you once did as a child. because i think you will find yourself again once you do. and i think you will start to look the way God intended you to.

i love you, Church. i really do.