THE PERFECT CHURCH

Once upon a time in a small town named Grumble there lived a group of people who wanted to create the perfect church. Because the town was named Grumble, people had taken on the personality of the town and as a result, had never been able to accomplish much because of their need to, well, you know.

Someone suggested that several exploratory committees be formed, so that's what the townspeople did. And like the old tale of the five blind men who each thought the elephant was something different than the other thought, the committees went off on their own with different perceptions of what the perfect church should be. And, of course, there was a lot of, well, complaining.

The Stained Glass Committee thought the whole church should be constructed of their favorite colorful substance. They purchased many pairs of colored eyeglasses and spent a great deal of time wearing the different pairs to see how the world looked through them. The building design they finally proposed looked like a greenhouse to some but not so to others, thus resulting in even more, uh, bickering.

The Choir Committee thought its music, voices, and instruments should proclaim the definition of the perfect church, so members designed a huge revolving table on which they all would perform. The huge table would rotate throughout the service so members practiced keeping their balance while performing. Some members became dizzy and bumped into each other, and there was a lot of, well, you know.

The Pulpit Committee thought the pastor should be the center of attention; that he should mount the pulpit in the basement and ride up through the floor with it as the service started. But one member objected, saying the pastor might feel as if he were being treated like an astronaut instead of a minister.

Another member retorted that the dissenter sounded like a grumbler; something they weren't suppose to be, so the meeting broke up without the donuts being eaten.

And so it went for a month. When the committee finally met together to share their ideas, the members of each were reluctant to speak, having become secretive and suspicious of the other groups. They sat in tight little groups, glaring and glowering at each other. What a wretched sight they were, for instead of coming up with ways to bring talents, gifts, and people together to form a perfect church, they were driven farther apart.

Disgusted by the "perfect" church's early disunity, an angry young mother stood before the committee members in the filed where they had gathered and vocalized her frustration. When she finished, she took all of the committee's plans and pitched them into a trash can. Fearing what she might do next, the committee members fled. One member said as he got in his car, "Now there was some grumbling."

Several weeks later, a group of third-graders came upon the trash can and the drawings and began to use them for their own purposes. They cut and pasted, trimmed here and glued there, and designed something churchly like nothing anyone had seen before. There wasn't much to it really.

Little colored glass and no rotating choir booth. No gadgets to elevate the pastor to perceived heights of greatness. Not one attention - grabbing scheme escaped the children's shears. The church they designed was rather plain and simple. Oddly, their design included no chairs. People in their church, it appeared, would have to sit on the ground very close to each other on what resembled little nap rugs.

On the following Sunday everyone met in the field to review the children's work. Everyone thought someone within his or her committee had come up with the new design, so, of course, it met with widespread approval and was deemed the design for a perfect church. And when something's perfect there's no need to, well, to be picky, right?

The children, being bright as they were, never said a word about where the plans for the perfect church came from, and the adults being as bright as they were, built the church as drawn.

It went up quickly and was soon finished, and because there were no flashy fixtures or furniture to fund, the church was able to pay off the building before the last nail was pounded.

There wasn't much to remember about the first service in the new church, except that the pastor was late, that the people had to sit very close to each other, and that no one person had a better seat than the next. There really was very little for people to brag about or focus on other than the people around them.

Some wondered if the pastor's arrival was tardy by design. Whether it was or not, people who hadn't spoken with each other since origination of the perfect church idea started to do just that. Even strangers sensed they belonged there seated on the ground on little nap rugs, shoulder-to-shoulder with their neighbors.

Amazingly, the atmosphere was filled with laughter; not much at first, but as people relaxed and began to enjoy each other, they teased, tickled, and joked with each other. It was great! It truly was, and there was no grumbling from townspeople who were reputed for it.

If you are a child, you already know the moral of this story. If you are an adult, ask a child. The answer you receive may seem simplistic, but childlike faith can lead us closer to the truth than we otherwise would allow ourselves to believe possible (Mark 10: 14-15). WE HAVE SO MUCH GROWING YET TO DO!