Word for the Church: Like a Bridge Over Troubled Waters

One of the greatest regrets I've carried thus far in my life is how I didn't make the best use of my year living with a host-family in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The family spoke almost solely Spanish, and if I had truly applied myself, I could have achieved fluency in the language after a year of almost total immersion in the language.

Instead, as a young twenty-year-old, I shirked the more difficult road and took the easier path where I spent the vast majority of my time with an English-speaking family... and consequently left Albuquerque at the end of that year knowing very little more Spanish than when I had begun.

Now, sitting on the cusp of graduating with my Masters in Education with a licensure to teach English to speakers of other languages... I wish intensely that I had used that year to become fluent in the language that 90% of my students speak. I'm now 41, and I study Spanish every day via Duolingo, and while I'm still picking up bits and pieces of it... the vocabulary and ease of speaking just doesn't come nearly as naturally to me as it used to.

So... I teach as best I can using English, lots and lots of miming and actions, extensive use of visuals and graphics, a phone dictionary... and, when I build rapport, an interpreter.

"Could you explain to so-and-so that I need him to..."

How I wish I didn't have to do that. But when I find that valued person in my classroom who will trustworthily give accurate interpretations for the messages I need to give, it's such a feeling of release, both for me who struggles with the language, and for the person on the other side of that message who has been watching me issue meaningless syllables in a language completely foreign to them for a long while.

Suddenly, meaning leaps into life behind the words, and there's understanding. Connection.

Suddenly, there's a bridge between us, and it's crossable.

In Romans 15:23-33, Paul is wrapping up his letter. He's got some greetings to send to people (we'll get to those in the last chapter of Romans tomorrow), but he writes a preamble to those greetings by explaining his plans to visit -- in person -- the people to whom he's writing.

He says: "But now that there is no more place for me to work in these regions [he's talking about the people he's already spent time evangelizing], and since I have been longing for many years to see you, I plan to do so when I go to Spain. I hope to visit you while passing through and to have you assist me on my journey there, after I have enjoyed your company for a while" (Romans 15:23-24). 

I spent a little time this morning doing some research. Apparently, there's some debate about whether Paul ever reached Spain before his martyr's death or not. According to some extra-Biblical sources (Clement), it's likely he did, but as far as the Scriptures themselves, there's no actual confirmation of this.

Anyway, Paul's intention is clear; he wants to spend a good bit of time with his Roman brothers and sisters in Christ before he heads off to Spain. He has never met them in person, and he seems excited to do so. But first...

He's heading back to Jerusalem, where he is carrying a monetary contribution from the believers in Macedonia and Achaia for the poor among the church in Jerusalem.

"'Now, however," Paul says, 'I am on my way to Jerusalem in the service of the saints there. For Macedonia and Achaia were pleased to make a contribution for the poor among the saints in Jerusalem. They were pleased to do it, and indeed, they owe it to them. For if the Gentiles have shared in the Jews' spiritual blessings, they owe it to the Jews to share with them their material blessings'" (Romans 15:25-27).

So here's where a whole lot of contextual background information makes these couple of verses so all-fired important.

The Gentile churches of Macedonia and Achaia are giving money to the Jewish believers in Jerusalem.

To understand the importance of this gift, we've got to also understand the deep, deep rift that has existed for centuries between Jews (the chosen people of God) and Gentiles (the people to whom the promise of salvation opened up through Jesus when He bore all the sins of the whole world on the cross).

This is one people group saying to another people group: We need to be unified under the same Lord and Savior that brings us together.

The problem is... because of the centuries of entrenched division between these two groups, the language of friendship, of unity, between them is hard to understand. 

Paul is the interpreter in this particular scenario. Paul doesn't just send the money on its way so he can continue on -- in his evangelistic zeal -- first to Rome, and then to Spain. This message of unity between the Jews and the Gentiles is of supreme importance, and he needs to make sure they get it right. He needs to act as a connection between the two people groups; he needs to be a bridge over a whole history of hostility and troubled waters. So he accompanies the money to Jerusalem.

This morning, those couple seemingly innocuous verses about "but first the gift delivery" hit me like a gut-punch.

There's a lot of hostility and troubled waters in our churches today. Lots and lots and lots of finger-pointing. There's a ton of "You're not doing it right." There's a lot of "If you really cared about us, you would [fill in the blank]." There's a lot of "You're falling prey to the world and its philosophies."

The focus in the church, y'all, has largely switched from Jesus... to each other. So we find ourselves standing on two sides of a yawning chasm, spewing words at each other without a deep understanding of where the other is coming from, because we don't have grace for each other.

I realize... sigh... I realize I sound like a broken record (this isn't the first time I've written/talked about this), but this has been heavy on my heart for a while now, and as long as the Holy Spirit keeps giving me this word, this word I will speak.

We may not have Paul in person, in body, anymore, but we have his message of unity. We may not have all the understanding in the world for each other, but we've got an Interpreter, and His name is Jesus, and He is the Head of this body, the Bridge over these troubled, turbulent waters, and He is where our focus should be. He is where we can meet in the middle and offer the grace and understanding and support and even love for each other... even when -- especially when -- we don't get the other person.

Think for a second about your foot. It spends most of the day... on the ground. Or the floor, or occasionally on your recliner's footrest or the bottom of your mattress. Often, it's in a shoe or a sandal. Its perspective is fairly parallel with the ground. It doesn't spend a lot of time high in the air (unless you're a gymnast or something), or doing/making things, like -- for instance -- your hand does.

Then think for a second about that hand. That thing spends most of the day puttering. It grabs things and pushes things and pulls things and manipulates things and types things and holds things. It spends its day busy in helping you function, but it doesn't spend a lot of time (unless you do handsprings) getting you from Point A to Point B like your foot does.

Both are extremely important to your body, and both function in concert with each other, though neither one should ever replace the other, or permanently do the job that the other one does.

Church, let's stop trying to fill the God-given role intended for your brother or sister. Instead, support -- with grace for each other -- that other person's job description.

It feels impossible. Given today's climate, it feels almost wrong to support people in doing something you don't fully understand or appreciate, given your perspective.

Here's the deal: Jesus gave us a guide-book; it's called the Scriptures. It gives us the Truth, because Jesus is the Truth, and if we keep Him as our Head, the rest of the body works together. So return your focus to the Interpreter, the Bridge. He's the only One who can bring together the whole body, even past our deep chasms and rifts and trenches that we ourselves have dug.