Saints, Sinners, Sweet, and Skywalker

Several years ago, John, a senior member of the church that I serve, shared the following story. At a mid-day Sunday gathering, one friend expressed surprise at his necktie and asked why he was so dressed up. He explained that he had come directly from worship. "Oh," said his friend. "I'm not good enough to go to church." (That line still breaks my heart, even just typing it here.) Quick-minded as ever, the church member responded by noting, "The church is not a museum for saints. It is a hospital for sinners." 

The Internet can't figure out if the source of this wisdom is Dear Abby or St. Augustine, so I give credit to the church member. He explains his belief, which I share, that we folks generally found inside church buildings are not necessarily who folks generally found outside church buildings think they/we are. This is especially true if the assumption is that church-goers are pious and judgmental holy rollers who feel they have a corner on the truth market. I am guessing that some fit this description, but most of the worshipers I have known are folks seeking some truth and hope in a world too ready with lies and hype.

About 15 years ago, I attended a workshop for pastors where Leonard Sweet was the keynote. He greeted us as breakfast ended: "Good morning, saints!" The hall was filled mostly with clergy hoping for the latest insights on better ways to be church. We cheerfully called back, "Good morning!" He allowed a few seconds of coffee sipping and high spirits, then he really grabbed our attention.

"Good morning, sinners!" 

I knew we were in for a good morning. Around my table, we chuckled and exchanged knowing looks, even as we were roused by his truth-telling. One of the best ways to be church is to admit up front that no one of us - especially those in pulpits and pews - can claim perfection.

Faith communities are intended to serve as settings where people can admit that we are imperfect and seek some of God's perfect grace. We have not arrived (I'm not even sure what that means), and whatever bumps and blisters we've collected on the journey present opportunities to care for each other. We are neither fully saint nor fully sinner, but rather a delightfully non-binary "both-and," essentially good and occasionally tempted.

George Lucas helped open me to this concept about 45 years ago. I honestly don't remember much of what I learned about light and dark in Sunday School, but I will not soon forget my introduction at the age of 8 to Star Wars and The Force. Luke Skywalker was whiny but awesome, and on some level I devoted my life to becoming a Jedi. The films hooked me by tapping into the sense that each of us has real power by virtue of a mysterious kind of blessing. 

I am of course fascinated still with this gift, which I now might call the loving presence of God's Spirit, and its enduring presence within all that exists. As Paul wrote to the Roman church, "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39, NRSVUE) This is the Christian way of describing what I believe to be a gift beyond words, one that transcends traditions and touches all that exists.

Watching those earliest Star Wars films, this core of beloved goodness within all was affirmed through the character of Darth Vader. Watching Vader's literal and figurative sinister shell melt to expose the core love of Anakin further set the stage for my later understanding of God in all and all in God. I believe that every bit of the universe is at its center graced by a divine love, and that this force is binding and powerful enough that no amount of poor choices can undo or negate its eternal presence. 

Whether we call ourselves "church" or Jedi, I hope that we can learn to lean on each other through foibles and worse. I further hope, no matter how we are dressed, that we keep finding ways to affirm and even celebrate this divine love shared by all.