Last Friday I spent some time at “The Cleft” for part of a 24 hour ‘worship session’. The Cleft is “a Church, drop-in centre and home for those who live in the Red Light District.” I had been planning to visit The Cleft for a while now, but never got round to it. This seemed like a good opportunity to see what it was about.

The idea was to sing and pray to God for The Cleft, and the people they minister to (homeless and prostitutes, in particular). As usual, I felt a bit uncomfortable, and spent most of my time in the back of the room. I sat by a window near the entrance that offered a characteristic view of the neighborhood: Beautiful, old buildings, many tourists, and across the canal a brothel bathed in bright, red light. Here’s what I saw:

As I sat there, taking in the sights, I tried to imagine what life here would be like for the addicts, prostitutes, homeless, and other (unfortunate) inhabitants.

Then I noticed the huge church right next to the brothel. I was struck by the sadness of this sight; a structure symbolic of my faith, encroached by an environment that represent the complete opposite.

And why did these brothels and streets, bathed in warm, red light somehow seem more inviting and friendly than the drab, dark church?

The rest of my evening was marked by feelings of anger, frustration, guilt and shame. Why do churches often seem so cold and heartless? Why are so many of the ‘living’ churches obscured from view, leaving only these monolithic empty husks to proclaim the death and irrelevance of Christianity? And why do so many churches focus inward, spending most of their time and money on themselves and their petty problems? Why have I spent so much of my time on pointless ‘Christian activities’ that serve so few of those who actually need serving?

And yet, strangely, the strong desire that overwhelmed me was not to go out and help those outside. Instead, my thoughts and prayers turned inward, to the church and it’s many problems; conflicts, misconduct, leadership abuse, self-centeredness, greed.

I think that God loves irony. And I think this night, this unexpectedly turning ‘inwards’ in such a place and at such a time, could be a message from him. These last few months of my life have been characterized by weariness and disappointment over the church, and a strong dislike for anything that wasn’t ‘reaching out’ in some way. I think maybe God is telling me to change my attitude, and care about the church a little more.

While my basic frustration remains, I’ve experienced a bit of re-prioritization. I now realize (again) that to effectively reach out, the ‘innards’ must be healthy too.

(photos generously supplied by the master of Amsterdam photography, Marco)

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