Here is a word picture (it isn't really a "picture," but what is it?) from one of my favorite songs ("Time Will Be the Tell") by 100 Portraits that gives me pause.
You can play the Cinic/
Oh, the insults that you could hurl/
Be the King of your opinion/
In your tiny, tiny world/
The church could be your victim/
Cross your arms and criticize/
I hope you will remember/
She is another man's wife/
She is another man's wife.
I've listened to this song today as I've thought about the fact that I once cared passionately about the health of the church (the real church, not simply the institution), the unity of the body, the purity that Christ attributes to its members. I don't care so much for those things as I once did, and consider that the root of this uncaring must be the bitterness that sets in as a result of disillusionment and injury. We are such delicate creatures. In recognizing and accepting our wounding, still we must remember that the church is the Bride of Christ--she is another man's wife.
This is not a concept I fully understand. I once lost respect for a man because of the actions of his wife. I have been critical at times when men have attributed spritual superiority to their wives against my own (admittedly external) assessment. How fortunate it is that we are not called upon to make these judgments, especially considerig I am so judgmental a creature.
