I know a church with a blue tarp. In fact, I knew it as "the church with the blue tarp" before I knew the pastor, staff, or any of the members. I met the pastor for coffee one morning, not long after leaving home in North Carolina to work with the Union Baptist Association. He told me where his church was located. I said, “Oh, you’re the church with the blue tarp.” I could see that behind his kind expression lay some exasperation with this ignominious moniker.
Look beneath the blue tarp, and you’ll see Jesus.
Not wanting to be insensitive, I asked to hear the story. More than a year ago, the church was struck by lightning. Lightning caused extensive damage in the worship center.
For the duration, the church was meeting for worship in the fellowship hall, an area barely large enough to accommodate those who faithfully attend. Repairs during a pandemic had been quite a challenge. No one knew when they’d return to their worship center.
Ministering through hardship
I wish you could see beneath the blue tarp. My wife and I visited in early January. Half a dozen people greeted us, welcomed us to Houston, and welcomed us to their church. We quickly felt at home when, in fact, we were so far away from what we had called home for the longest time.
Since that visit, I’ve met with the pastor and his associate pastor numerous times. Together, we’re preparing a discipleship series called “Living on Mission.” I even had the privilege of preaching there a few weeks ago. Underneath that blue tarp, you’ll find a genuine warmth, a hunger for God’s word, a sincerity in worship, and an abiding desire to reach the community around them.
“Underneath that blue tarp, you’ll find a genuine warmth, a hunger for God’s word, a sincerity in worship, and an abiding desire to reach the community. ”
Look beneath the blue tarp, and you’ll see Jesus.
Most people who drive by probably know this church as the church with a blue tarp. But the truth is, we all have metaphorical “blue tarps.” These are the public-facing coverings we use to hide the ugliness, brokenness, and destruction in our midst. I long for this community to see that this church with a blue tarp is meant for people with blue tarps, people who project a false self to get by.
Christ in us, the hope of glory
Several years ago I heard Sam James bring a message from Colossians 1:27:
God wanted to make known among the Gentiles the glorious wealth of this mystery, which is Christ in you [literally in the Greek, “y’all”), the hope of glory. (CSB)
It’s not that Christ in me is my hope of heaven. That’s certainly true; it’s just not the point of the passage. Rather, Christ in us is the hope of those without Christ. Christ in us is nothing less than the way that God makes his salvation visible to those who can’t see it.
His point landed like a greeting card taped to a sledge hammer. Though I’m not sure he intended to do so, Dr. James turned all the effort of the attractional church in the right direction. We put so much effort and value into the exteriors: music, lighting, sound, comfort, branding, media, etc. But what happens when they’re stripped away? What happens when lightning closes your worship center?
“Christ in you is the most attractive thing about your church. ”
There is nothing inherently wrong with these exteriors; the problem begins only when they’re placed above the truth of Colossians 1:27. When we misplace our priorities, we inadvertently diminish the one thing that should never be replaced: the good news of Christ.
These exteriors might matter to those already walking with Christ. But they don’t communicate a whit of difference to those enslaved to sin. What matters is the glory of Christ they see when they look inside. Christ in you is the most attractive thing about your church.
Effects of a community church
Some will come and see. They need to see marriages being healed, and relationships being restored. They need to feel the warm welcome. They need to listen as we sing biblical encouragement to one another. They need to hear gospel-centered messages from God’s word. They need to wrestle with the symbolism of baptism and the Lord’s Supper. They need to meet people who will walk them to the Christ who condemns their sin and saves sinners.
For others, we’ll have to go and tell. They’re not going to come to us. Some have been hurt by religion, maybe even by the church. Others have their own religion, a view of the world that knits together and protects all they hold dear. Many have rejected religion altogether, making them more resistant than all the others. The only way any of these will see the Christ in us depends on those of us who will go to them.
Either way, people can God at work if only they look beneath the blue tarp.
As the Senior Consultant for Sending Pathways, Cris Alley helps support the local church in thinking and acting like missionaries.
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Photo by Zohair Mirza on Unsplash