Category Archives: The Church

Articles concerning the life and mission of the Church.

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Truth to Power

I preached in my church’s worship service this past Sunday. I’ve preached before, both at this church and others, so I was not all that nervous at the thought of standing up before the congregation I belong to and expressing myself and my thoughts on God through a sermon. Years ago, doing such a thing would have brought on involuntary trembling. These days, it’s a cake walk.

However, I write this without taking into account the subject matter of my sermon. Usually, this variable effects no change in my composure. On this Sunday, however, I felt quite uneasy as I stepped to the podium and gently laid my manuscript down. You see, I normally have no problem with a sermon once I have written it, having used the best words that come to communicate the message I believe is from God, the reception of which being, of course, an intimate and rather mundane hand-off, and not the revelation-on-Patmos kind of inspiration many people associate with receiving a “message from God.” I like to imagine God is pleased to work in the former way much more often, especially in these days filled with flamboyant televangelists and strutting mega church preachers who seem to have an endless connection to ecstatic inspiration from the Almighty (strange that they all sound the same). But I digress…

This Sunday, I chose two passages to expound on: Acts 4:32-35 and James 1:21-27. In short, I spoke on the amazing intimacy that existed between the first Christian church, and how most church-goers in our society have regressed to living as mere “hearers” of God’s word, rather than “doers.” I intimated that these two selections from the New Testament inform one another. The problem for me was that the sermon I ended up with after three hours of writing seem to read with a tone of meanness. Having written it on Thursday, I fretted through the next two days, afraid that the words I originally felt to be challenging and relevant to my particular church community, were, at worst, vicious, and at best, somewhat inconsiderate. It didn’t matter that there was a tenderness in my tone when I practiced reading it. What was being said was quite harsh in places. Some of the lines included:

“Everything outside the church that does not contain its official and pristine stamp of approval is considered secular – and therefore evil – by comparison. It is dangerous. … In an “us vs. them” church, there is no “ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” because a truly ”good” shepherd would deem that journey unnecessary if it included such a detour into the world.”

“We will never be the church that God desires, that honors are risen Savior, if we do not actively care about its members – all its members - and the community that exists between us all. ”

“We will never be a transformed church until we are willing to worship with our hands as well as our mouths, with our talents as well as our pocketbooks. True need demands both.”

Talking with some of the church members afterwards, the usual niceties (which, don’t get me wrong, I believe were genuine) were exchanged, but one woman said, “It was a wonderful message. Ouch!” She was uplifted and inspired by the sermon, but her comment still made me gulp. The last thing I wanted to do, as this will probably be my last sermon at this church (Leigh and I leave for Germany in less than two months), was to alienate my hearers, or cause them to think that I do not treasure my experiences within this congregation.

But, I suppose, this is what is involved in speaking truth to power. There is no easy delivery, nor is there perfect release on the other side. You only trust in the words you feel are right, stand tall and speak well, and hope that they will not go out in vain, but find fertile soil in the hearts and minds of your listeners. It is very similar to missions fund raising, when you know you need to simply come right out and tell people how very much in need of their financial support you are, but have trouble doing so without being apologetic. Strange that I would be experiencing such similar circumstances so close together.

So may you know courage, and may you recognize truth when it seizes you. May you stand tall and speak the truth well. And may you see transformation take place. May you reap a harvest like none other – the glorious harvest that comes when power is humbled and is remarkably moved to show its power in full. May the truth set you and me – indeed, everyone – free.

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Compelled to Dance

It seems that for a person seeking after God, the worship of God has something to do with love and service. I’ve read enough about both to see a kind of chicken-or-egg relationship between the two, but the sum of – or, maybe more illustratively, the relationship between - the two is where worship happens. My love for God compels me into service unto him. My desire to serve teaches me more about love, namely its tendency to consume a life from every angle.

I believe this works the same with things other than God. We worship that which we love and serve, but, of course, these two terms are corrupted to a certain extent depending on what is the object of our worship. If I am consumed by a desire for a certain person (as I recall myself being in college for a certain girl), my thoughts are blessed/plagued by said person, my actions adjust to that which will please/impress that person, and my speech is measured, to the best of my ability, to interest/attract that person. The same behavior, only slightly altered to specifics, goes for anything really. A certain job, a particular status, a large savings account, a new car, an iPhone.

That which affects are level of love (the devotion we feel) and service (the things we do) for something is what we worship. And if this is so, then not only can loving and serving become corrupted, but our target of worship can be become skewed by confusion. Thus, we can think we’re worshipping God, when in reality, we’re worshipping our limited, selfish construct of him. The same goes for a person. Pornography owes a lot of its popularity to this concept.

So how does one avoid corruption of love and service, and keep from confusing that which is worshipped?

I really don’t have an answer for that, at least not at this point in my life. However, I have begun to understand that what we choose to worship – and how we love and serve – seems to be directly related to our environment, the trappings and cosmetics that fashion our physical, social world. For example, I worship a certain status/lifestyle because pretty much everything around me validates that lifestyle. In essence, I’m tempted to love and serve something that really doesn’t deserve to be loved and served at all. I’ve been duped. I suppose this is partly what idolatry is all about.

What is interesting is how easily our love and service can become confused, and our worship corrupted. My assumption is that there are churches all across this country that unknowingly specialize in corrupting our worship, feeding us an edited image of God for us to worship. And, at the same time, there are people coming to participate in “worship services” with the baggage of a selfish, manipulated image of God.

I’m not advocating the deconstruction of religion or doctrine or anything of the sort. What I’m searching for is worship that has been simplified. Love and service that flows directly out of relationship, rather than the rules or common practices of a particular environment. We should be compelled to worship, not tempted. Within such a distinction is a life change that I believe God desires for us all. That which draws us into a dance with him. Religion is the dance hall, and doctrine is the music, but the dance is all our own. Anyone who has ever shared a dance with someone they truly love can tell you that other than maybe remembering the name or chorus of the tune, nothing else really mattered at the time than the person whom they were holding and sweeping and twirling across the floor.

True worship, therefore, is authentic. We must be transparent – honest in full. No one wants to dance with someone who pretends to know the moves when they really don’t have a clue. I think God would much rather dance with someone who isn’t afraid to admit they need him to lead.

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A Voice of One Crying from a Dead Church

For a long time now, I have been reading a lot of blogs that contrast good churches vs. bad churches, and/or address the symptoms and evidence of what constitutes a dead or dying church. There is so much written in cyberspace about this subject it would not surprise me if I found out the subject dwelt within its own sort of cyber-subculture … and I would place money that such a network would be pessimistic in tone and outlook.

To be a part of a church or mega-church that is more concerned with image or status quo safety, or to look around and see the many churches and “Christian organizations” that seem to have this following-Jesus thing all wrong, is indeed a frustrating thing. We want to see change. Some of us want to incite that change. Many others want to discuss that change. Unfortunately, few of us actually desire to work toward that change, and to dig into the work so completely that we shut up about the problem long enough to involve ourselves in the fix.

I realize by writing this entry, I immediately align myself with one of the former groups. However, I’ve decided that if I’m going to write about this subject, I might as well be as honest as I can…

The thing that frustrates me even more than dead or dying churches are the many people who label such churches this way. Call them cynical, or pessimistic, or just judgmentally sardonic, but rarely are these people apt to give a particular struggling church or mega-church a chance if an alternative congregation/community is, in their opinion, getting it right where the others are getting it so wrong. Whether the alternative community is emergent, relevant, innovative, or all of the above, to a person who has learned how to judge the Church, it is simply one thing: greener pastures. In essence, it is the congregational equivalent of a white flight. A neighborhood changes in outlook or becomes too crowded, invaded by people different from me, and I look to the suburbs outside of town where it is safer and I like the look of the landscape a lot better, where people think like me and don’t mind my condemnation of the old neighborhood because, instead of staying there to enact change, they escaped to the greener pastures as well. The more I apply this metaphor, the more I see the new, hip, alternative congregations as the greener pastures, and the old model churches (or, even sometimes, the mega-churches) as the old neighborhood many of us are leaving behind for the cause of returning Jesus, and true Christianity, to the Church.

How do we justify planting new congregations if we abandon old ones to do so? If there is a place with a “need,” fine. But if the need is just to plant a church that isn’t as frustrating or backward, I’m not as quick to appreciate the plant. Did anyone try to affect change in the old community first? Or were they just too close-minded, too set in their ways?

I realize some of what I’m writing here is biting into my own thoughts and behavior, but I read so much subtle (and sometimes non-subtle) condemnation of the mega-church Christian subculture, and rarely, if ever, read of the dangers of escaping these churches that might have some things – if not many things – wrong with it.

My church is one that many of the blogs I read would label as dead or dying. Our attendance is down, as many people are leaving as are visiting, we are consolidating bible studies and Sunday classes because we don’t have enough of any one age or station in life to meet on their own. There are people in our church that see missions as nothing more than giving money, and we are involved in very few direct outreach programs to the community. All in all, for many people in my church, life on Sunday morning is lived much different than life during the week. Such criteria is the fodder for these blogs, and it screams, “Abandon this church and find yourself a relevant community that is making an impact!” And a part of me would love to, but then, whether like a loyal captain or Lot’s wife, I look back and think, “What will become of them if I, too, leave them behind?” Do I just cut and run and leave them to die? Do I do nothing … when I certainly could do something … anything … EVERYTHING I can to try and save the church?

Maybe this entry is simply the squeaking voice of a person too scared to abandon a sinking Titanic unaware of the certain death that awaits … or maybe it is of a person who is not ready to give up on a community of people who might have a lot of it wrong, but is still a community with blood running through its veins, with a life that can still be seized and lived toward impact. I do not agree that a dying church is not worth saving. I do not even believe that a dead church (containing whatever criteria makes them that in your opinion) is not worth saving. My church may not be relevant right now, but we’re working on it. Who knows whether we’ll get there, but there’s more to serving God than simply correcting our motivations.

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A Standard Easy to Break

Last Wednesday evening, during the discussion time with the youth at my church, I wrote the simple sentences on the dry-erase board. “I am individual. I am community. I am a Christian.”
Then I spoke about the difference between community and conformity, and explained that much of the “community” expressed in Christian circles and churches is not true community at all, but conformity.

I have read a lot of blogs lately that have been calling out the American Church on everything from its exclusivity to its politics to its legalism. There are people, Christian and non-Christian, who are fed up with the cliques, the seemingly close-minded acceptance of policy, and the hypocritical standards, to name a few things. Regarding all these issues, I wonder if our view of sin and mercy is deeply skewed, so that the above things are natural outputs from our churches today.

In my youth group (and more broadly, in my church as a whole) growing up, there were several things that could open a chasm between you and other people. The first, and most obvious, was sin, especially committing a sin that was popularly spoken against and avoided. To associate with someone who tripped and fell below the standard became much more difficult – it was almost impossible to view them in the same holy light as you had before. Another way to drive a wedge between yourself and others was to question things – anything from the existence and/or actions of God, to the historicity of Jesus and the science behind his resurrection, to the certain code of morality supposedly upheld in Scripture. To question such things meant you were doubting something, and doubting something meant lack of faith, and wavering faith, in any arena, was yet another way to plummet beneath the standard. Therefore, association with those struggling to accept carte blanche was just as difficult. A third way to divide yourself was to simply be a part of a family that held an overall different political, social, or denominational outlook. The size of this division varied depending on how radically different you family was from the standard, but woe to you if you were on the extreme – you might as well have been living in a leper colony.

The fourth fool-proof way to drive a wedge was to suggest the offering be taken up at a different time or that the pulpit might not be necessary.

I explained to my youth that part of being a Christian – of following Jesus – means that you have come to a place where your individuality should perfectly meet with a community. Hence, becoming part of a church should never challenge who you are as an individual, but you should be able to bring all of who you are – talents, ignorance, resources, questions, skills, fears – to the group without worry that you will be forced to change the way you are and how you think about one thing or another. After all, Jesus never seemed to demand a change of individuality in a person, but simply how they act and associate with others. A friend of mine said it best once: “God glories in diversity.” And, I believe, the church is at its healthiest and most loving when it has learned to accept everyone as different – people who are at different places in their journey, struggling with different issues and situations, seeking the best way to personally connect with the God in whom they have placed their trust.

Conformity, on the other hand, is losing your individuality for the sake of the group. Shaving off the parts of you that don’t gel with the group so that there are no hiccups, no speed bumps as you cruise to where you’re going (even if you’re actually going nowhere in particular). Unfortunately, there was a lot of conformity in some of the churches I grew up attending, and it is a deep-rooted problem that pervades many churches today. That is why it is so easy for me to think up the things that would be certain to drive a wedge between a person and the rest of the group.

That is not to say that, growing up, there were not people who lived above such things, who cherished community and did everything they could to preserve it. And I’m sure there are people that are the same way in your church communities as well. But, I wonder, how often do you find yourself working and living toward conformity rather than true community, whether because it is easier, less stressful, or is less likely to cause problems of a foreign nature.

Don’t read me wrong – I am not arguing against behavioral, moral change. Salvation does spark change within every part of us, but my understanding of individuality goes much deeper than this. We are the persons God made us, with personalities all our own. The last thing we want to do is bring all of who we are to a group only to have them squint at us as if they are gazing at us from an insurmountable distance, confused or shocked and peering back at us from the other side of their road to eternity.

In third grade we made fun of a kid because he spoke different, had a bit of a mean streak, smelled funny, and didn’t socialize in the normal way. He grew up right alongside me and some of my friends, and to this day I struggle to see him for who he is rather than who I once determined him to be.

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It Takes All Kinds

Thank you all for responding to the questions I posed in the previous entry. Please keep commenting if you would like, either on this entry or the one underneath. Every once in a while on this blog, I veer into an area of introspection or analysis that might run some people the wrong way, but I feel it’s important to the greater theme of this, the search and continual discovery of the stuff of wonder, that we all take time to consider those things that detract from true faith or make an outright mockery of it.

To that end, before I give my (certainly misguided) two cents regarding the subject of the last post, I wanted to share something that initially seems funny but in reality is quite offensive and tragic, at least in my opinion. Yesterday I was driving down (or up, depending on where you are on it) San Felipe with Leigh on our way to an evening church activity when my eyes wandered to the right to read the latest marquee message of another church that I pass at least twice a day. In the past, this church has posted cutesy, mostly shallow messages, such as “What’s missing from this ch ch?” However, on this week, the church sprinted past cutesy to downright offense. The latest marquee read:

Try Jesus. If you don’t like him, the devil will always take you back.

My mouth fell agape immediately. In one simple statement, this church was purporting, to hundreds who would pass, a galling statement that is both poor theology and a perpetuation of an “us vs. them” mindset. I felt like calling the church and asking if they would tell all the insulted people that might call in to come to my church instead, where it seems we are slightly more careful in how we refer to those who have not professed a relationship with Christ.

I suspect that an us vs. them mindset pervades a majority of our thinking in churches today. This is not surprising, because, on the surface, Scripture itself often seems to read this way, whereas a deeper, more patient reading of Scripture gives us a more compassionate and gracious understanding of those “outside of Christ.” I do not claim to always succeed in the latter kind of reading. However, I do think such a mindset affects many church decisions, from evangelistic strategies, to membership requirements, to church discipline.

I do not think this girl (introduced in the previous entry) is outside of Christ. Some may look at her lifestyle and suspect a Christian would not live the way she has, but then again, such an ideal Christian certainly wouldn’t live the way I have either. The truth is, we all stand in need of great grace. And this is the one kink in my understanding that keeps me from agreeing whole-heartedly with those of you who commented in affirmation on the process of discipline described in the previous entry. I’m with Grayson in this respect. Where, then, is grace? It seems expulsion upholds a limited love, and though there is much Scripture that lays out somewhat specific disciplinary rules, I have trouble reconciling expulsion with being the body of Christ, which simply means to love as the Savior loves, unconditionally, unceasing…

If such a thing were to take place in my own church, I suspect I would find myself between a rock and a hard place, and therefore would have to make a decision, because, sadly, the above paragraph seems to be no real decision at all. But expulsion? I like Chris’ and Natalie’s comments (on this blog’s Xanga doppelganger) regarding why this girl and her new husband should not be allowed to continue to attend regular worship and weekly bible studies, as long as they are no longer counted on to teach. We wouldn’t keep out others with acute problems with sin, so why them? Is not separation of leadership enough?

I suppose bad company corrupts good character, but if there is any community that should remain unafraid of this, I think it should be the Church, of which Jesus once said, “the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.” (Matthew 16:18)