Church as Field Hospital

A recent event at church taught me something about what it means to be the church.

I was speaking with Station 1 fire fighters after their presentation in our parking lot, and asked the chief if there’s any way we can support them. The chief replied, "Show us around your building."

It was the strangest tour of our building I've ever given. As we walked through, the fire fighters weren't paying attention to the stained glass. On every floor they were imagining destruction. Two fire fighters walked off distances, calculated hose lengths, and determined how people would escape.

They wanted a tour not so they could come to church, or rent the building, but so they could know what to do in case of a disaster.

The church is more like a fire station than we might think. Pope Francis calls the church a field hospital. We're here to attend to wounds, bind them up. We're here to run in to trouble, places bereft of support and care and love, and help people heal.

This is a tough shift for the church. We used to be the majority, the main event. When that went away some of us circled the wagons, and built enclaves of protection. Others ran into danger and we never saw them again.

Here is something else I learned from our fire fighting neighbors. It's okay to take care of yourself. It's smart to form a group of people with common purpose. In fact, it's necessary. Fire fighters spend a great deal of time training each other, calculating, listening. They can put on 60 lbs of gear in less than a minute.

But the reason for all of it is not to retreat, but to be prepared in case of trouble.

If our building catches fire, Station 1 will know where to go and what to do. They are ready.

Folks in our town are engulfed in other emergencies--isolation from God, from each other, from society. Are we ready?