A friend asked me recently what I fear about becoming "one of them." She meant one of those church people, those women's ministry attendees, those people that hang out in the "big church" rather than our overflow-converted-into-a-church-for-the-band-service who irreverently (big church people assume anyway) call God "Dude" and who believe in letting anyone and everyone come hang out with us in the front of the overflow-converted-into-a-church-for-the-band-service, and who believe the church is not the building but the body of Christ and as His body we need to be out there finding His lost sheep.
That sounds very ungracious and I hate to lump everyone together in one sanctuary, but becoming someone who is tepidly passionate about their faith is what scares me. I think some of them may have been passionate at one time. I think many of them show their passion differently, and probably more maturely than I do. I also think some of them are not really followers of Christ as much as they are church goers. That last bit is scary. Who won't I meet up with in heaven?
While I was at the Christmas eve service at church, I was being a butthead-annoyed by having to assimilate into the larger population, distracted by the singers' dramatic gestures, bored by the piano music, awkward in the presence of strangers. In my distraction I was looking around at all the people to see what else could annoy me when I saw a woman crying and another woman comforting her. I quickly repented of being such a self centered jerk and tried to concentrate on God, like I should've been.
There is the irony that I find in loving God and disliking, almost despising, His imperfect people. I did not choose them; He did. In separating myself from them, I separate myself from Him because it is His body. I have actually had a much nicer Christmas because of this, because I have been attempting to remain more humble and be gracious to those to whom He is gracious. And, really, part of that is recognizing that altho I may act or think like a jerk, I am not one. But that is God's problem. He chose me, too.