The Great White Wail

"Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me at church, I thought I would sail about a little and see the material part of the world. It is a way I have of cleaning off the spleen, and regulating the circulation of my soul. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses called churches, and bringing up the rear of every worship service I meet; and especially whenever my cynicism gets such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking steeples off - then, I account it high time to get to my knees as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish the Pastor throws himself upon his Church; I quietly take to the woods. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the Lord with me."

(Adapted from the opening paragraph of "Moby Dick" - the search for the Great White Whale - my changes are in bold print.)

Let's face it - we have it fairly easy in our white American churches, yet we complain about everything. Music. Bible versions. Building programs. Personal agendas. It's pretty revealing to me that in such a cold, dark world, these are our biggest issues. There is a Great White Wail rising from America and to be honest, it's kind of pathetic. I say this to my shame, because I'm part of the chorus.

It's not a wail for the Lord, for the lost, for the hungry, for the poor. It's not even a cry for our own souls. It's a wail for our way of life. Jesus never intended this to be about a way of life. That's why He attacked the Pharisaical attitude of self-preservation. Christianity is not about preservation, it's about being spent out completely - a drink offering poured out upon the true Sacrifice, where God increases and we decrease.

As Ishmael went to the sea when he felt this coldness come upon him, I often drop my 'church' and head for the woods. I know that this isn't to be a dwelling place. I know that we are built for community, and that through community the church advances most effectively into the darkness. But if the community is crying out for their way of life, not for the way of the Lord, then we are dead in the water. So I head to the woods and shut my eyes and my mouth and I listen for God. I allow His Voice to drown out this self-centered wail from the American church. And for a moment, I am content.

Emerson wrote:

When I am stretched beneath the pines,

Where the evening star so holy shines,

I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,

At the sophist schools and the learned clan;

For what are they all, in their high conceit,

When man in the bush with God may meet?

Don't get me wrong. I love structure. I love rituals that allow me to enter into the presence of God without always trying to figure out what's coming next. The rhythm of liturgy can be a beautiful thing. I also truly love the people of church and a true corporate worship experience is one of the most amazing feelings in the world. I am just fearful that we build structures and impose methods, then we hope for a filling of the Spirit to eventually empower them. It doesn't work that way.

The first Ishmael was banished to the desert because he was a result of Abraham's attempt to manufacture the promise of God. Only when Isaac was miraculously born through Sarah did Abraham understand. Wait on God, then build. We build, then wait, and in the meantime we wail.

Call the church Ishmael . . . because we too are trying to manufacture the presence of God.