The Tapestry

I've been musing lately on the concept of denominations, and movements, etc., especially in relation to the whole 'emergent' conversation. I've spent the last two months being encouraged and built-up and strengthened by the discussion on Resonate as well as the Taize service at our local anglo-catholic parish church (Anglo-Catholic = bells-and-smells Anglican).

It makes me realize that there is still value in places I do not necessarily expect to find value in. And it makes me realize that we, as the Body of Christ, are being woven by Christ into a beautiful tapestry, proclaiming His love to the world around us. That tapestry will only tell the story of Christ's love effectively, however, if it is woven of many multi-coloured threads. Like the beautiful tapestries in the art gallery, some of these colours will be used and reused in various places - in fact, if you look carefully, they will be the dominant colour - but will be so normal and ordinary that we won't notice them. Without these threads, the whole tapestry would fall apart, but they are nothing special in and of themselves. Then there are other threads which stand out from the rest - crimson reds, vibrant blues, even a bit of gold thread here and there. These colours aren't as common - they don't cover great huge sections of the tapestry, for the dyes they are made from are too costly to use very much of them - but they add something to the tapestry, to the image of Christ's love, that is not otherwise there.

I want to see Christ's love displayed for all the world to see, but first, I suspect, we will have to come to see the value in one another's 'colours' ourselves.

Here's an example. I read recently a list of the top ten Christian worship songs (?!?). The list contained primarily songs English in origin (as opposed to American, or Australian), that came almost exclusively from musicians from one or two major charismatic churches. After enjoying the Taize service this week, I spent half an hour at the piano at the back of the church. I tried playing some of these 'top ten' choruses, but none of them seemed to 'fit' the place. This is a place that is teeming with symbolism - a place where the sermons are in the stained glass windows, the statues, the icons, the colours of the altar cloths and robs and the liturgy, as much or more than the homily itself. When I began to focus on this, the music started flowing out of my fingers - a plainsong chant/three-chord-chorus in one. When I sang it to an older (65-year-old) parishioner who isn't overly keen on music she didn't sing when she was in school, she immediately understood the symbolism, and felt comfortable with the words and music. What is more, the words were a challenge to my heart - a challenge that so often is lost when we sing songs that are too comfortable and too familiar too many times.

What would happen if we were able to experience the taste of Christ's love that so many other denominations and cultures have to offer us? What would that do to our concept of what it means to be a Christ-one?

I worry that whatever the denominational heading, if we regard ourselves as a given "brand" of Christian, without regard for the teaching or symbolism or focus or experience of our fellow Christians around the world, what we will present to the world will not be the lusciously rich-coloured tapestry described above, but rather a fuzzy water-colour painting done by a three-year-old -- have you seen these recently? I've got one on my shelf, and although made with love, they contain shapeless blobs of unrecognizable colours ... that essentially resemble sludge-brown. Although I am pleased with the attempts of my three-year-old, my seven-year-old will now produce recognizable images, and by the time the girls are fully grown, if properly trained, they will be capable of producing real art.