Living and Dying at the Hilton

I went to church with a friend yesterday because I needed a break from the Little Country Church and we read this story, which is only slightly cheesy but makes a great point so I thought I'd share it with you anyway. It's an excerpt from Men's Secret Wars by Patrick A. Means.

Dick Bergstrom is a personal friend and president of ChurchHealth, a church consulting ministry. We meet for lunch on occasion, and at one such meeting last year Dick said, "Before we eat lunch, let me show you something. We can take my car." Curious, I asked him what we were going to see. "It's a giant object lesson," he said, smiling. Now I was really curious. Soon we pulled up in front of a large retirement complex. "My parents worked here one summer a few years ago," Dick said. "So I got an insider's view of this facility and how it works. Let me show you inside." Dick led me into a lavishly appointed reception area. Pile carpeting, fine furniture, and exquisite interior decorating gave me more the feel of a Hilton hotel than a retirement home.

"Boy," I said, "retirement homes have sure changed since I last saw one."

"This, my friend, is not just an ordinary retirement facility. This is one of the Cadillacs of the retirement world. But," he said, holding one finger in the air, "there is just one requirement for entry to this facility. Well, one, in addition to money," he said, laughing.

"What's that?" I asked.

"You can't have anything seriously wrong with you," he said, a Cheshire cat grin spreading across his face. He looked at me expectantly. "Doesn't that remind you of anything, Pat?"

I still didn't get it. I watched as a well-dressed couple in their seventies exited the elevator on the other side of the lobby and walked evenly down the hall toward the dining room.

"Let me give you a more complete picture,"Dick said. "This is one of the finest facilities of its kind. All the apartments are top of the line. The food is excellent. It's most retired folks' dream to move into a place like this. But it's only for people with no obvious physical problems. As soon as you develop a problem - say, you have trouble walking - the rules of the facility require you to move out. They have no nursing care here. If you need that kind of help, you have to move down the street to a much less desirable facility. Now does it remind you of anything?" he asked.

I nodded, finally getting the analogy. "Yeah," I said, "some churches are like that."

"But I haven't told you the best part yet," Dick said. "My parents told me that when residents first begin to develop a physical problem, many deliberately try to cover it up for fear that they'll be kicked out. A lot of these folks we see strolling around here looking fine go back to their rooms and collapse, glad that they've made it through another day without anyone finding out their secret!"

Now I saw the whole picture. It's the Pharisees' paradigm, a paradigm still perpetuated by some churches. In that paradigm the church isn't a hospital for the sick; it's a club for the healthy. The only problem is, if the sin disease we all carry breaks out in some obvious way in your life, you have a choice to make. You can cover up the symptoms and continue to act healthy, or you can leave.

I could understand why people would play elaborate cover-up games to stay in the center Dick showed me. The Hilton is certainly nicer than a nursing home. It felt very pleasant to be surrounded by all that interior decorating and all those attractive people. All it would cost me to stay is authenticity.