The Hippopotamus In The House.

It is hard to ignore a hippopotamus in the house, and yet as Christians, we go to elaborate efforts to pretend the hippopotamus eating the alter flowers is not in the sanctuary and is not real.
Hippopotamuses usually enter as babies, and because the hippo is still relatively small and we are not expecting to see it there, it is possible to believe the pastor when he tells us,
“What you see is not really there.”

As nobody else seems to notice any problem, the game of trying to believe one has seen a lamb not a hippo begins
‘. After all, it must be a lamb, bought in for the nativity play,”
“Of course, that’s it!      I DID see a lamb.”

“ A little pet lamb bought in for the nativity play ate the altar flowers on Sunday. Not a hippopotamus after all”.
 But the next Sunday the hippo has grown and this time is chomping away on the altar cloth. “
“Sister Joy, do you see that hippo by the altar?”  
“Whatever are you talking about, that’s the donkey for the Easter play.”

 “A donkey, are you sure, it looks more like a hippopotamus to me .......you certain that’s a donkey?”
 “Pastor says it’s a donkey.”
 “Funny looking donkey, but guess he knows the difference between a donkey and a hippo better than me.”
For a week or two it’s a donkey, but the Sunday the hippo takes the collection bag in its big jaws, it sure looks like a middle sized hippo to me.

 “Brother Bob, what’s that hippopotamus doing with the money bag?”
 “What hippopotamus? That’s a New-Wineskin-Angel. You need to get your eyes checked.”
Eye checks involve heart searching, self doubt and self condemnation, as I attempt to convince myself that the hippo doesn’t exist. This continues until the hippopotamus has grown so big it is standing on my toes and crushing me against the wall.
I notice people who have been coming for years have slipped quietly away.

 “It IS a HIPPOPOTAMUS, that is NO little Iamb!”
“Sister, we don’t want to hear words like that! You need to repent of your critical spirit and anti-authority, rebellious attitude! You do NOT see a hippopotamus, there is NO hippopotamus!”

 Our church friendships were shallow and tense as we skirted around taboo subjects for fear of gossiping.
“lf you see a giant hippo in the house, just speak to God about it and keep silent, especially if the hippopotamus is in leadership.”
When we left the church we felt alone and lonely.

Mount Tiger started as an outreach, but as time went on, it evolved a dual purpose. It was an outreach and a puncture repair kit. We uncovered by accident a whole epidemic of hippo wounded. People we thought of as pillars of the church, the stable, rocklike hard workers of the church, were lonely undercover hippo watchers. Many had attended the same church for twenty five years but felt they had no deep and meaningful relationships.

They struggled with the increasing worldliness and business practices and values the church was embracing. They were bored, burdened and oppressed by over programming. They came to Mount Tiger to give their testimony and returned the next month and the next, drawn by the fellowship and freedom and lack of control, they were only hanging in at their church because they didn’t know what else to do. They, like us, had tried all the churches and knew what they were looking for was not in a standard church.

 What surprised us the most was people wanting to leave the established churches were not weak, young or back sliders. They were solid Christians of twenty or more years, deacons and elders, even pastors. They could see the hippo in the sanctuary and were looking for an alternative, some bravely forsaking livelihoods to follow their convictions.
 We were not alone after all. We were on the cutting edge of an exciting new move of God.