Divisions

"Your meetings do more harm than good," Paul charges the Corinthian church (1 Cor 10:17). Ouch. Ever feel that way about your church?

Paul explains a little bit more: "In the first place, I hear that when you come together as a church, there are divisions among you, and to some extent I believe it. No doubt there have to be differences among you to show which of you have God’s approval. When you come together, it is not the Lord’s Supper you eat, for as you eat, each of you goes ahead without waiting for anybody else. One remains hungry, another gets drunk."

OK, that sounds a little dysfunctional. I have to admit, though, that I can remember times when Sunday worship was affected by divisions. Sometimes I chose a side, and then there were people I avoided in church. And I'm pretty sure I thought my side had God's approval, and the other side maybe didn't.

That's especially not good, Paul says, in connection with communion. That's the sacrament that's supposed to bind us together as one at the foot of the cross, after all. The Corinthians didn't even eat the meal together, nor did they share.

We're more proper than that, of course. We keep up appearances, at least during the actual service. But there's an attitude here that I don't think I completely avoid.

The attitude is this: In some way, I'm more deserving of this than some. I'm more involved, or I give more, or I understand more -- somehow, when you say "church," you mean me more than you mean some other folks. After all, we even have a name for them: fringe.

That's a subtle division that we don't think of much because we don't fight with them. We think they've opted out; they probably can't find a way to plug in. They feel different, less talented, less smart. Because we make them feel that way.

God's sacrament, and the worship of his church, is just as much about them as it is about me. That division, like all others, is artificial. I wonder if God even notices it. After all, compared to Him, we're all black as sin.