The Best Buy

The phone rings during dinner and a the voice of an enthusiastic stranger on the other end thanks you for a moment of your time and explains they are calling people in your area to solicit their opinion about something. Perhaps they even tell you about the sweepstakes you won but, mysteriously, don’t remember ever entering. And, of course, they assure you they are not asking you to buy anything. How likely is that, really?

Truth be told, we are being sold something all the time, whether it be a product, an opportunity, a candidate, or just an idea. The world around us is absolutely chock full of stuff we don’t really need but “can’t live without.” And there is always someone at hand, ready to sell it to us. This is, perhaps, never more true than when someone claims they have nothing to sell.

Over recent decades, we have evaluated the effectiveness of churches based largely on their sales appeal. Success, it is implied, comes in the form of the three B’s: Buildings, Budgets, and Butts in the seats. If you had these things, your church was considered successful. Visitors would flock through the doors to see what all the fuss was about. Members prided themselves on the attendance measured by thousands, the collections measured by millions, and the new church campuses constantly under construction. Leaders could write best selling books and speak at seminars about how to replicate their success.

Now many Christians are beginning to question this well packaged and efficiently marketed brand of church. How, we may ask, can anyone argue with the obvious success of these ventures? Well, to begin with, one would be hard pressed to make the argument that Jesus was motivated by any one of the three B standards. In fact, his ministry seems to demonstrate just the opposite as a standard of success. He was apathetic about buildings and budgets, and, rather consistently, it was a tiny minority that answered his call to discipleship. So, would we then argue that Jesus was not “successful” in ministry?

It would be far more accurate to say that Jesus subscribed to a different standard of success. He did not offer a product for us to consume like a new shirt or a TV dinner. He offered us something that would consume us. Something that would require self denial and missional zeal. Something that would replace the life we thought we wanted, with the life we were made for. Something that would replace our will with his. Sadly, even in the light of redemption and grace, there have been relatively few takers over the centuries. The Gospel has always done better in the hands of a zealous few than in the pocket of ambivalent masses. A few, consumed by it, will always do more good than a thousand who buy it.

Even as we have clambered to satisfy our own definitions of success, the church has borne fruit, though sometimes in spite of ourselves, rather than because of our efforts. These successes don’t negate the fact that our definitions have often been dramatically different from Christ’s. And they will never change the truth that we will advance the Kingdom more by living in it, than by trying to sell it.

Power Broken

A new construction project at my house involves, among other things, expanding and upgrading our utility systems. A sub-panel must be installed to power the addition, a tap line must be added to our water/pump system, and new hydronic heating loops have to be created. As we consider all the things we would like included in these improvements, the question has come up a couple of times: What about a generator?

At least once every couple of years we have a big enough ice or snow storm to take out our electricity for more than 24 hours. And every time it happens, the discussion about generators comes up. Given the infrequency of these prolonged outages, it is an expense somewhat difficult to justify. But in the midst of the storm, the ability to pump water, fire the heaters, and keep the freezer from defrosting prove to be powerful motivators.

It is at these times that I become aware of just how dependent we have become on these conveniences. I find myself almost constantly flipping light switches, anticipating power that isn’t there. And the cave like qualities of those windowless basement bathrooms become apparent, even though we seldom notice this when they are washed in warm incandescent light. And since, like so many mountain households, our water is supplied by a well, the absence of power also means an absence of running water. But I still forget that I can’t flush the toilets or wash my hands in the sink. The simple fact is, these are conveniences so common to my daily life that I take them for granted. And while I will probably eventually break down and buy a generator, there is a part of me that recognizes the inherent value of going without from time to time.

There is, of course, the unpalatable reality that these things I consider basic necessities are not even available to large numbers of the worlds population. But there is more to it than simply having grown accustomed to these luxuries. Modern utilities have helped to convince us of our own independence, power, and control. With a simple light bulb, we are no longer accountable to the cycle of the sun. With a pump or a public water utility, we no longer need a communal well or the shared responsibility of carrying water to provide for the needs of the community. With power lines strung to my home, I can pretend my household is an independent island; that I neither need anyone else, nor do I answer to anyone.

But then, when the power goes off, the independence I think I have is no longer such a great thing. Honestly, one of the reasons a generator would be such a welcome addition to our infrastructure is the fact that it would help me maintain my illusion of control. But one of the things I actually like about the occasional storm and outage is the way my neighbors and I all come out and work together to take care of things. There is a certain admission of powerlessness that undermines our pretense of independence. And the resulting community is, actually, very enjoyable. Needing each other, it turns out, is really a very healthy thing to do. And the control we think we have, when we really think about it, turns out to be a rather tenuous illusion. And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.