"I Invite You..."

If there's one word that, to me, sums up the modern culture of "nice" American Christianity, it's this:  INVITE.

Nearly every Sunday, I'm invited to do something; and I'm not talking about an end-of-the-service, Just-As-I-Am-softly-playing, altar call where sinners are invited to come forward for salvation.  No, these invitations are different.  For example...

"I invite you to turn to hymn 315 and sing with me."  In previous eras, we might have heard, "Please sing hymn 315 with me."

"I invite you to read the verses printed in your bulletin."  It used to be more like, "Let's read the verses in the bulletin together."

"I invite you to turn and greet those around you."  Rather than, "please turn and greet those around you."

"I invite you to stand for the benediction."  Formerly, "please stand for the benediction."

"I invite you to remember what Christ did for us through His death on the cross."  It used to be more forceful: "we must remember what Christ did us through His death on the cross."

You might say, "Oh, Davene, you're just bickering about a word choice.  Why argue about semantics?"  Maybe so.  But in my opinion, it goes deeper.

These days, so many churches, these places where we're invited to do this or that, seem so nice.  So many who call themselves Christians seem so nice.  The gospel, rather than being the revolutionary, turn-the-world-upside-down message that it originally was, seems so nice.  I seem nice.

But you know what nice is?  It's bland.  "Nice" wasn't the word used to describe Jesus, or Peter, or Paul, or any of the other world-changers who started this movement in the first place.  "Love" described them, but love is not always nice.  Love looks to the long-term outcome; nice is short-term, hoping for a pleasant interaction, and that's it.  Love is bold, forceful, passionate, strong.  Nice is not necessarily any of those.  Nowhere in the Bible do we read, "God is nice."

But Sunday mornings in so many churches in this country are just...nice.  Not all churches, I realize.  There are some who are still defined by a strong, bold, passionate, loving Gospel.  In fact, our choice to attend a certain congregation for the past month or so has been because there is some forceful truth present in the sermons; and it's been refreshing to hear that.  But to tell you the truth, even there I get a little weary of being "invited" to do so many things during a service.

Sometimes I think, "You know, I've already received the invitation I need from God.  He has called me to come to Him, and I have.  He is in me, and I am in Him.  I've accepted my invitation to be present at the wedding feast of the Lamb; and by the blood of Jesus and the grace of God, I will be there someday.  While I'm here on earth, however, I do need shepherds and teachers.  I acknowledge my tendency to wander away and to be dull of mind.  Please, someone, teach me; lead me; feed me; correct me.  But what kind of a shepherd says to his sheep, 'Here, sheep, I invite you to follow me to safe pasture'?  An ineffective shepherd, that's what!  And pity the poor teacher who says to his students, 'I invite you to read these pages and study this material.'  'Well,' think the students, 'if there's a choice about it, we'd rather not, thank you very much!'  How would the song leader feel on a Sunday morning after he invited the congregation to stand and sing, but instead half the group decided to turn down the invitation--since it was issued so nicely and all--and remain seated, lips unmoving?  Ah, but the average congregation wouldn't do that, of course.  We're too nice."

Reading back through this makes me think that I'm probably making a mountain out of a mole hill, and I regret that.  But I am convinced that, aside from a simple word choice of "invite," there's something deeper at stake here.  Unfortunately, I find myself unable to give expression to it like I wish I could.

I'm tempted to end by saying that if I hear another person standing up in front of the congregation on a Sunday morning and inviting me to stand or sing or read or reflect, I'm going to croak.  But if I said that and held to it, it wouldn't be long until the people seated around me next Sunday would be looking around, trying to figure out where the frog was and which boy had slipped one into his pocket before coming into the service!

I know I'll hear "I invite you..." again many times.  Lord, give me the grace to simply smile, look past the person's words to his heart, and humbly participate in worship.  All without letting out a single croak.  ;-)