THE AIR WE BREATHE: Christian Community & The Way We Are Together

THE AIR WE BREATHE: Christian Community and the Way We Are Together

Clearing the Air

God does this regularly. He tends his people. He looks at what's grown a little crooked, what's drifted from its original shape, what's got tangled up with fear or habit or the slow drift of things, and he moves. Not in judgment, but in love. He realigns. He reorders. He renews. And every time he does, it's good news, even when it's uncomfortable.

I think we're in one of those times right now.

This series of reflections is an attempt to talk about something that's been clarifying in conversations, in prayer, in the sometimes uncomfortable sense that the Spirit is pressing on something particular in the life of the church. We are the church. Church is not something ‘over there’. God decided that through us, he would display his goodness and releasing his blessing into the world. He's not indifferent to how we're going. He lovingly, persistently, patiently work in and amongst us.  Just now  it seems that he’s addressing how we do community together. And as part of that he’s clearing the air.

I'm writing from inside this story. I'm part of some dynamics that we’ll unpack here. I’ve experienced some hurt they cause and I've been part of hurting others through them. I haven't figured this all out. But Jesus modelled that seeking, seeing and speaking what's true, is usually how things begin to come clear.

This series has been prompted by the persistent nudge that I've learned to take seriously, even when I'd rather not. Who I am and how I relate to the world is in part explained by saying I’m prophetic. For me that means I tend to notice patterns and currents moving beneath the surface of things, and feel a responsibility to process them prayerfully, and when the Lord nudges me, to speak about them with care. Not as a kind of announcement. Or a declaration that ends the conversation. I really dislike anything like that. But because sometimes it helps to say out loud the thing a lot of people are likely sensing but haven't found words for just yet.

That's what this is, me saying out loud some things I’ve noticed, and that I sense God is talking about just now. I think He’s clearing the air.

Part One: The Temperature in the Room

There's a moment many of us have experienced but might not have been able to articulate.

You're in a gathering - a meeting, a conversation after church, a team debrief. And something shifts. Not dramatically. Nobody raises their voice, nothing is announced. But you feel it in your body before your mind catches up. A slight cooling in someone's eyes. A conversation that moves on a little too quickly. An absence of the warmth that was there before.

You said something. Or asked something. Or maybe you were standing near someone who, for reasons you don't quite understand, is currently out of favour.

And without a word being spoken, something settles in your chest: I'd better be more careful.

Most communities, without anyone intending it, end up operating on two sets of rules. The first gets said out loud - the vision, the values, the things written on the wall. The second set is never announced. It gets learned slowly, through experience, through temperature shifts, through warmth offered and warmth withdrawn. Through remembering what happened to the last person who said the thing you're currently thinking about saying.

The gap between these two sets of rules is small in healthy communities, and there are honest ways to clarify it when it shows up. In others, the gap can widen, and talking about it can feel risky.

What makes this hard to address is that it's rarely dramatic. You can't easily appeal against a cooling glance, or when someone simply stops including you. There's usually nothing concrete to point to. And that subjectivity and subtlety is what makes it so confusing, and difficult to directly address.

The prophet Nathan understood something about how truth finds its way past defended hearts. When he was troubled by David’s sin and apparent delusion, he didn't turn up at the King’s court with a prosecution. He arrived with a story about a rich man who took a poor man's only lamb. Hearing the story, David's outrage was immediate and genuine. That man deserves to die. And then Nathan said quietly: You are that man.

The story worked because it slipped past David's defences. His conscience, which had gone very quiet about his own actions, was fully alive when it came to someone else's situation. The distance the parable created was enough for him to feel the truth, and when he felt it, the distance collapsed and he saw himself more truly.

That's the spirit I want to bring to this whole series, because the story captures God’s own wisdom, compassion, and grace as he works with us, and through us. No prosecution. It’s also the spirit I hope for when others speak to me. I need people who can speak the words I need to hear . Who do it with care and compassion, trusting my conscience is alive and well, even if fear has triggered a prickly self-protection in me.

If you've been in that cold room and felt the temperature drop, you're not alone. More people carry some version of this story than you might think. And the fact that you noticed wasn't a failure on your part. It was simply you paying attention.

If you’ve been one who’s shifted the temperature and subtly put others out in the cold, you’re in a pretty large company as well, including me. Noticing is a good thing, something worth paying attention to as well. And you are worth speaking to with respect, care and compassion, because all of us are vulnerable to these dynamics when fear enters the room.