Various metrics all point in the same general direction when it comes to measuring the evolution of the church. For years we depended on membership rolls, bodies in the pews, irrevocable declarations of a saving nature (or so it seemed at the time), numbers of activities offered each week, who threw the best funeral dinners, and the ever-popular cars in the parking lot informal weekly census, fair game for any church, church member or stranger in town for that matter.

The desire to best others can be irritating, especially while entertaining pastoral staff and administrators at continuing education events. Who, after all, would suggest that their church is succeeding any less spectacularly than others that are represented? Hence, theological inflation suddenly appears to be a part of every conversation. If I cannot learn to weave in how many baptisms occurred in the previous year, or baby dedications, or enumerate those answering altar calls, then I’m not much good as a pastor, it would seem.

What if we explored new metrics to bring into play? What if instead of numbers, we became just as determined to understand where Christ is in our own neighborhoods by noting the intrinsic good that is nearby? Can we recognize God and Christ by the lack of evil? Can God be present without being specifically introduced with public prayer? Church buildings are great for worship, perhaps even necessary depending on one’s theology, but they are hardly the only place in which to find Jesus lurking about.

It could be that that shift is already occurring and that The Divine is already deeply embedded among us. If that is the case, then could we even suggest that the church has already grown beyond the confines of traditional architecture and administrative structure? Alternatively, time at God’s altar might be discoverable in the first rays of morning sun, or in the early coffee at the elevator, or even in the daily routines of caring for family. Could Eucharist be celebrated in the day’s first bagel and hot coffee and might scripture bend toward willing ears as much from a friend as from a Holy Book?

What constitutes the visible church in community? Such discernment lies within each of us, a dynamic rendering and portrait of who we are and who we hope to be. The Doctrine of Discovery that emerged in the Middle Ages, and its dangerous modern-day counterpart, Christian Nationalism, sought to justify selfishness and greed, in part through scriptural manipulation. It was a dark time for indigenous nations as our country was founded. Colonial America was never about sound Christian doctrine. We grabbed our share of the wealth through guile and abject violence as potent as any laid upon us.

Where then do we find Jesus today? Did he abandon us and move to a more upscale community? Take a harder look. You will find him in the most unaccepted of places, wherever human frailty meets hard reality. In other words, invested heavily in our own lives in ways that surprise, urging us on in spite of our predilections, and loving us all the same. We imagine the weak and downtrodden Christ speaks of to be found in the worst of places. They are also to be found in clean, tidy, prosperous neighborhoods, and business boardrooms. Are we willing to look closely in that regard?

Growing the church is a noble aspiration. Teaching it to grow up is a whole ‘nother matter.