The ugliest church meeting I ever attended happened about fifteen years ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a meeting of the Music Committee, and in addition to the committee the Music Director and I were in attendance. It was the only church meeting I’ve ever been present at in which someone “dropped the f-bomb,” and it was the ugliest church meeting at which I’ve ever been present.
What makes the memory of this meeting peculiar is that I don’t remember the particular topic of the meeting. I don’t remember the reason the meeting was called, and I certainly don’t remember the printed agenda. What I do remember are the tears, the hurtful words, the rising tempers, which all ended with the seventy-year-old Music Director standing to his feet, slamming his hands on the table, and telling the committee that he hoped they knew never to bother with him again. He left the room quickly, and the rest of us sat there speechless for what seemed like an eternity.
The music director was a long-time member of the church whom I deeply cared for, as I did for every other member on that committee. They were all people who had brought their talents and gifts to the church and for many years had used them for the worship, work, and witness of God in the community. But something went terribly wrong in that meeting as it had in the weeks leading up to the meeting.
As the pastor, what I was most criticized about in this conflict was what happened after the meeting. The music director was someone that I cared deeply for, and we had a close relationship for years before that terrible night. After the meeting I continued my relationship with him, mainly as pastor. After a cooling off period I invited him back to church, not in the role of music director, but as a worshiper and maybe as a choir member. I continued to care for him, we went to lunch, and I tried to continue to include him in the life of the congregation.
The chairperson of the music committee didn’t like this one bit. Her thinking was that because of his actions we should let him go, never invite him back. Basically, good riddance. I had a conversation with her about this one day, and the thing I told her was this. “I don’t think you (or anyone in your family) would ever do anything like he did. You’re not that type of person. But, what I hope you know is that if you or someone in your family ever blows it like he did, I’m still going to love you and that your church is not going to give up on you.”
She understood what I was saying, but she still didn’t like it. She never liked it. And to be honest, I didn’t like it either. It would have been easier to have let him go, especially after he acted in such an un-Christian way. But here’s the thing—we all have the real potential to act in un-Christian ways, and some (most?) of us have realized that potential. I need a church that refuses to give up on people, however inappropriate their actions.
The church cannot condone harmful behavior, Jesus sure didn’t. But within the limits of good boundaries and not allowing people to be hurt we do not give up on each other and we do not stop loving one another. “How many times should my sister or brother offend me and I forgive him?” seven times seven”? Jesus was asked. “I tell you, not seven times seven, but seven times seventy,” which is saying that there is no limit on our forgiveness.