Pitching Tents and Building Altars

I’m back after a longer-than-anticipated summer hiatus. I pondered finishing the Fruit of the Spirit reflections but decided to not look back as we enter this new season and a new theme where I lead worship. We’re going to be looking at Abram and Sarai’s story, a series that I preached on two years ago at my home church. However, the context is much different this time, and it’s worth looking at again.

While I was on holidays my current church held a VBS for the first time in three years. Anyone in ministry knows what that kind of void can do to your volunteer base, especially with youth. It turned out to be a resounding success with 54 kids, a crew of youth who were first-time leaders, and once again a partnership between another church and us. I came to the Friday closing to cheer them on as they shared their theme of Treking in the Wilderness. I laughed as I had already chosen Abram and Sarai for the fall..

We may have felt lost and aimless during lockdowns but now gradually we’re re-starting dormant ministries and reaching out into the community. I’m sure that Abram’s call to leave his homeland didn’t come from nothing. God chose him for good reason. Our churches are perhaps still in despair or they may be on the precipice of a whole new direction in this post strictly-online world. Something new is coming for us. Are we ready to embrace it? Are we able to hear God directing where we are to go? Or are we clinging to the familiar, the old recipe, and wanting reassurance that our faithfulness to past structures and ways is enough?

The last verses of Genesis 11 list Abram’s genealogy (this is very important for us to know too - where have we come from? who have been the major players in our families of faith and church cultures?) and then as I read Genesis 12:1-8 again, I noticed a few particular words that hadn’t stood out to me before.

First, Abram pitches his tent. He has dismantled his life, left most of his family behind, and convinced his whole household to pull up stakes and come with him. He has likely never left his homeland before but is willing to go where God asks. He pitches his tent in new ground to him, the first of many places he would set up his dwelling on the way to where God has called him to go.

Now, Abram had verses of inspiring words from God to motivate him - making a great nation, being a blessing, and his name being great. Any ego-maniac would jump at the chance. And I wonder as many small churches make the difficult decision to close or simply continue on in the same old ways of comfort afraid of what new thing God is asking of them, are we really open to hearing and obeying God’s voice? Do we trust that we are worthy of fulfilling God’s call still, and needed, and blessed to be a blessing?

We are all, individually and in our congregations, pitching our tents all the time. We may be pitching our tents in history, tradition, anxiety and/or pessimism. We may be assuming that it’s up to others to make the trek into the next quarter century and to draw in those in need of a loving God. We may decide that our priority is the survival of those already in our midst and not those outside who don’t respect us.

Or we may be pitching our tents in absolute trust in a living and loving God who we know to be gentle and healing and worthy. So we are willing to make deep sacrifices, perhaps giving up our current tent for a smaller one or inviting another church to share in it with us, perhaps radically changing our worship to be at a better time and to be more accessible to unchurched or church-harmed people, or even moving church to the homes of those left outside and pouring our resources into outreach and mission rather than maintenance of massive structures that sit empty much of the time.

I challenge you this week to not only reflect on where and why you are pitching your tent but to also reflect on the altars you are building. Abram builds two altars to mark each stop on the journey so far to the land where God has called him to go. We don’t know what they looked like or if people worshiped around them but they were significant markers on the route.

What altars are in your church? More specifically, what things have been built that are worshiped and honoured, perhaps even treated as holy? We may think of Communion tables or fonts, but if we are honest we can just as easily worship our clergy or staff, our buildings themselves, our projects and programs and finances, or even technology or certain styles of worship or music. If our tradition has become more important than our mission, we need to take notice. If our activities are our identity rather than our relationships and willingness to draw others into Christian community, we need to pause and reflect.

This fall I am focused on listening carefully for God’s leading, and on surrendering control in order to embrace God’s plans and best for me. I have no idea what is coming and yet I know that I need to be paying attention and ready to go. I may find that this blog needs to take a back seat to something else as I strive for balance and health and obedience to God’s call. The summer has already brought significant changes as well as many blessings. I need to pitch my tent carefully and take care to build altars to acknowledge God’s goodness and fingerprints over my life.

In this new season, may you take care as you pitch your tents and may you build altars in gratitude to the One who sustains and leads you and gives you identity and blessing.