Peeves and Obstacles

I'm not a very patient man.  I've gotten a little better over the years, but not much.  Impatience is a character flaw for anyone who has it, but it is a particular liability in ministry.  Ministry in the established church takes a mammoth amount of patience.

Discipleship, which I'm proposing here as the Biblical answer to the deficiencies of today's church, is a slow process.  Jesus, himself,  spent three years with his first twelve disciples, and it is painfully clear that even at the end of that time they are still "not getting it" a good part of the time.  We tend to think we are doing much better — that the vantage point of history and years of Sunday School have provided us with the clear answers.  I sincerely doubt this is true.  I imagine Christ looking on us today and thinking, "Two thousand years of trying and they still don't get it!"

A few years ago an influential member of our fellowship accused me of thinking I had all the answers.  I thought about that for a while, then responded by explaining that I actually know more about where I don't want to go, than where I want to go.  And that is really true.  Discipleship is a journey with an undefined (from our human vantage point) destination, because it's truly about following Jesus.  And Jesus has not offered us a complete description of the journey.  Trusting him is really the point of it all.  And our need to control the journey and its outcome is not really about discipleship.

It's been my observation, and my frustration, that the church would rather repeat well known mistakes than take the risk of making new ones.  And, in order to facilitate that dynamic, the church will pretend that it's well known mistakes are good ideas.

All of a sudden I realize I'm no longer a ministry rookie.  I've been at this for quite some time.  I'm no longer just the idealistic, inexperienced upstart who tries to change things, I'm the battle worn and experienced idealistic upstart.  And as I reflect on that journey so far, I see the thing I've had the hardest time with, the thing I've tended to become angry and bitter about, is the unwillingness of the church at large to concede its own failures.

The model of church that we've evolved is relatively easy.  We take very few risks.  Our commitment level is moderate at best.  And our expectation is generally that we will feel "good."  We are understandably reluctant to trade all that for a life of discipleship.  In fact, we probably won't trade it, unless we come to the conclusion that the journey we could take is more virtuous and honorable than the one we are on.  We would have to conclude that righteousness demands it.

But that is quite a leap.  The fact is, the church today does a lot of good.  It is feeding hungry people and, at least at a minimal level, it is spreading the Gospel.  When good deeds are done, and the Gospel is repeated, good things are going to happen.  But the church is also losing membership and influence.  It's members are less Biblically literate.  We cannot seem to cultivate an organic discipleship.  Concluding that the church is healthy because of the good it does is a bit like eating in a restaurant that can't pass its health inspections, simply because we like the flavor of the deserts.

I ordered Hugh Halter's new book.  The description talks about the outward signs of church success, and the reality of a church that is in decline.  This is an extremely well documented reality.  And yet, we seem to prefer the superficial signs of success over the embrace of what is.  I've tried to present hard numbers at times, to people who responded by saying, "you can make statistics say anything."  These are people who rely on such hard data for their jobs and their investment decisions.  But in regard to church, we would much rather embrace blissful ignorance.

This is, perhaps, the most formidable barrier to discipleship truly recapturing the heart and mind of the church.  And it is the one thing I have the most trouble forgiving us for.

So, Now What?

I'm painfully aware of how presumptuous it is to assume one has a grasp of the problems, much less the solutions.  I've read more than a few of those church leadership and growth books, and thought I'd found some great answers, only to discover a few months later that the trend of the moment is rarely useful in the long run.  So now, whether I'm considering the problems or the solutions for the church, I try to stick close to the only reliable source we have, the Bible.

There is this really great scene in the series Firefly where River starts "fixing" the Bible to by removing and rearranging pages to something that makes more sense to her.  Shepherd Book, retrieving his Bible, explains, "You don't fix the Bible, the Bible fixes you."

I find that conceptualization helpful.  The Bible fixes us.  In that phrase rests some assumptions that define our faith.  First, we are broken.  And second, we need something outside ourselves to fix us.  It's my impression that the things that are off the mark about today's western church are the things we have done for ourselves in spite of Scripture.  We hold onto these things, even treating them as sacred and ordained, but they are from us.

So I have to think that discipleship, simple and organic, is the better answer to our challenges.  It sounds oversimplified, even to me, to say, "Oh yeah, all those problems could be redeemed by re-engaging the ancient practices of discipleship."  Nevertheless, I think it's true.  The self sacrificing nature of discipleship undermines the consumerism of western Christianity.  The multiplication nature of discipleship decentralizes leadership, thus discouraging celebrity and encouraging the exercise of diverse gifts by multiple believers in each fellowship.  The deliberate process of discipleship extends beyond our current educational models into an active and challenging journey that promises to facilitate genuine spiritual maturity.

I've been hammering away at the idea of discipleship for years, and I've often run into a problem with my conceptualization.  Christians tend to reject the idea that we are not already practicing discipleship.  Of course, I'm hardly the only or the most credible person to make this observation.  Nevertheless, we tend to so closely associate discipleship with Christianity that we think being one is the same as being the other.  Actually, I tend to agree, but in the opposite way.  Where most of the western church seems to be saying "If you are a Christian you are a disciple," I'm saying, in concert with Deitrich Bonhoeffer, Dallas Willard, and countless others, "If you are not practicing discipleship, you are not really living the Christian life."

The scary thing is that real life discipleship is foreign enough to us that most church leaders aren't really sure where to begin.  For that matter, I certainly can't claim any expertise.  I have enjoyed a dsicipleship relationship with certain mentors in my life and I have, with those who've allowed me, attempted to disciple others.  I've read just about everything I can find on the subject, and I've made a study of the concept in Scripture.

Nevertheless, I'm no authority on the subject.  But it strikes me that the advantage of discipleship is that it is not particularly dependent on expertise.  In fact, I think it kind of works against us to assume expertise.  The people I've tried to disciple, for example, are not people to whom I think I'm particularly superior in any way.  Christian discipleship is unique in this regard, because we don't seek to make people like ourselves, but like Christ.  And in regard to emulating Christ, we all share our human weaknesses.  So it actually works to simply share the journey with another, talk to them about what we have learned, and give them room to make their own mistakes.

I've been considering, for quite some time now, the implementation of a discipleship "experiment."  I'd like to gather some people who are willing and ready, and walk with them through a process in which my own leadership would be considerably decentralized.  There would be some instruction.  There would also be experiments with spiritual disciplines and missional activities.  There would be a whole lot of discussion and shared journey.

I've imagined this process because I think it mimics the experience of Jesus' disciples.  Certainly, there was instruction, which often challenged their status quo assumptions.  But discipleship was hardly limited to education.  It was an active process, wherein disciples participated in the spirituality and mission of Jesus.  And, very importantly, those who made the journey chose to make it.

Problems First, Then Solutions

In keeping with the spirit of my last post, the role of the critic is to use what may be wrong to point to and encourage what might be right.  So what's wrong?  I mean really wrong?  Not just the standard, "Oh yeah we could probably do better than that."  And certainly not the "Well, I can't prove that it's right or wrong but I prefer it my way."  I'm talking about where we really miss the mark.  In some things I think it pretty obvious.  In other things less so.  But the mark has to be set by the Bible, not by me, and not by the latest church growth strategy book.

So how have we, as the church, diverted from Scripture?  Anyone who has read any of the many books on that subject will probably not be very surprised by my views.  There is nothing new about what I'm going to write here.  These problems have been well documented by Christian writers, thinkers, leaders, and scholars of many different backgrounds.  But I feel like I've got to clarify them for my own use, in order to then clarify my prayerful search for Biblical solutions.  So here goes, in short format:

Note: These are generalizations.  I know it.  Anyone with half a brain who reads this will know it.  For my purpose here, generalizations are helpful because they identify common trends.

The church has traded discipleship and its identity as the body of Christ for membership and consumerism.  The church has traded spiritual maturity for denominational indoctrination.  The church persists in its denominational identities in spite of clear instruction from Scripture to the contrary.  Discipleship, the only modality of the early church, is, in its original form, extremely rare today.  The leadership of the church has come to center around personality and high profile pastors, rather than the fivefold leadership gifts practiced organically within the body.  The church has, all too often, sanctified materialism, promiscuity, and other sinful behaviors, or pretended they are not problematic within our fellowships.  The church rarely practices confession, even though we've seen it's power when it is employed.  The church is more Roman than Jewish in its orientation and practice, even though Judaism is its true root.  The church is not global in its approach to poverty, nor is it local in its approach to fellowship.  Individual preference has replaced submission and calling.  What we want to do we label as God's leading, even if our direction is contrary to Scripture.  We have virtually nullified the need for grace by changing the definition of what it means to be a good person to something we are capable of achieving.  That is, we've lowered the standard to what we, and almost anyone, can accomplish rather that holding ourselves or anyone else to the standard of Christ.

Whew!  Not a fun list.  And many would contest me on it, I'm sure.  But this is what I see.  And, in keeping with the purpose of criticism, I going to try to identify some Biblical directions that contrast with these trends.

Towards Better Things

I've often thought that I might make a good film critic.  I'm a big fan of movies, but I have a critical nature that tends to unpack and analyze things.  I know some people can't stand critics.  They'd rather not think too hard about their entertainment, and to them a critic is like that English teacher in your life that can't help but bring your grammatical errors to your attention.  I have, as you might expect, a different view.

I believe that film critics have the potential to raise the standards of movie making.  They can, though they seldom do, hold Hollywood accountable for its excesses and irresponsibility.  They make very clear what's wrong with the movies we watch, but they also call our attention to the true gems.  It gets difficult, after all, to distinguish what is good, unless you are willing to identify what is bad.  If you praise everything, then what do you say when you encounter something genuinely praiseworthy? 

I think the common Christian view of the modern church is a bit like film reviews in a high school newspaper.  Everything gets five stars, even when it stinks.  Sometimes I get the impression that we believe that if we think highly of everything, it will actually be good.  Consequently, we rarely reconsider the directions the church has taken. 

When someone like me comes along, who is inclined to look at the church through a critical lens, people either find it refreshingly honest, or irritatingly pessimistic.  But any critique of the church has to be like a movie review, the intent behind finding what is wrong is the opportunity to recognize the really great things when they come along.

More specifically, a critique is not really helpful unless it suggests a new direction.  That is my intent, to seek out and implement solid Biblical directions that promise to fix what ails us.  Of course, if Christians reject the critique, they also reject the possible solutions.  We assume then, that we don't need to do anything or go anywhere new because what we were doing and where we were going are already just fine.  Or, sometimes, we recognize things are probably not what they should be, but we are resolved to the deficiency, believing the way things are is a dynamic we cannot overcome.

While many, maybe most, people find criticism inherently negative, it occurs to me that criticism exists because of the belief that something better is possible. 

Long Worship Service

This morning our worship service ran too long.  The director of our upcoming mission trip planned the service, and it would have been fine, except there were several people involved in presenting different things, and some of us, myself included, spoke longer than the few minutes we intended.  Anyway, the end result was the service was two hours long - forty-five minutes longer than normal.

I never used to pay attention to such things, but to keep the peace I've maintained a sort of unspoken social contract with the congregation.  I generally plan our gatherings so they will last about 75 minutes, and I'm pretty diligent about keeping it from ever exceeding 90 minutes.  Today was a rare exception, but I've already heard there were some pretty disgruntled people after the gathering.

Foreign missionaries often have this problem.  They are not accustomed to the hard scheduled time constraints we employ here in the states.  People here can get downright nasty if you allow your worship service to run beyond what they expect.  Of course, this morning's gathering didn't really need to run as long as it did.  Had I known it was going to, I certainly would have abbreviated my own contributions to the morning.  But it bothers me that this is such a big deal.

American Christians are very much accustomed to rigid limitations on the time and effort they are expected to expend on worship or ministry.  If you exceed these expectations, you often hear about it.  An hour and fifteen minutes seems to be about the limit for an organized worship gathering.  Ten hours a month devoted to a ministry and people start talking about "burnout."  Of course, we have lots of rationalizations for all of this.  We are busy people, with important things to do.

There is something about it, though, that eats at me...that makes me question our devotion.  I know that a worship service or hours spent in service of a particular ministry are not necessarily indications of our faithfulness, but it's also hard to believe we are really surrendered to Jesus if two hours of worship or two hours of ministry in a given week are enough to deplete us.

I've been feeling regret today for letting the service run so long, but I also regret that I'm conditioned to think it's a problem.

Biblical Integrity

Our situation is a little unique in the modern Christian world.  We are an independent congregation governed by local elders.  Thus, the authority common to the more predominant pastor led church model is not common to me.  As a minister, I can suggest a vision for our future, but I certainly cannot dictate it.  I don't have a problem with that, as I don't think it's healthy to build the local congregation around an individual.  But, having the authority to set direction in the hands of several is a bit complicated.

In our particular congregation, I've rarely been denied the opportunity to try things, but I've often been denied overt support.  That is, I've been allowed and even encouraged to try approaches, to attempt to influence people, and to teach on Biblical direction for contemporary ministry.  But rarely has the leadership identified and endorsed any specific direction for the congregation.  And, influence leaders in the congregation have, at times, subtly undermined things we've attempted to do by making dismissive statements in the background.  So, we've often found ourselves at an impasse in regard to a congregational vision.

Recent events began to change that, but at the moment it feels like we are a bit stuck again.  Of course, I know some of my critics will say I'm only complaining because I'm not getting my way.  And I am as subject to selfish desires as anyone.  But I find that those who complain the loudest about "my way" are primarily concerned that if I get "my way" they won't get "their way."  Though Christians tend to make their complaints using spiritual terminology, it is still, more often than not, a question of self interest.

Thus, when we dispute over our vision for the local church, we are, quite often, disputing, not over theological or doctrinal ideas, but over preferences and opinion.  This, in and of itself, I don't mind.  People have opinions and ideas, and should be free to express them, so long as we don't equate our opinions and ideas with the will of God.  Unfortunately, that happens all too often.

For me, the most disturbing thing about the church today is that the Bible does not seem to literally matter.  Most Christians will take exception to such a statement, but I'm convinced it is true.  In his book, Knowing Christ Today, Dallas Willard points out that western civilization, both secular and Christian, has so separated faith from knowledge, that when confronted with new knowledge, we are capable of rejecting it in deference to our faith.  Which indicates that our faith is not informed by knowledge.  So if our faith is rooted in the modern church, and knowledge of Scripture challenges the practice thereof, we favor our faith over that knowledge.

This is another way of saying that we have assigned authority to our own traditions, experiences, feelings, and religion.  The Roman church, after Constantine, assigned itself this kind of authority, and in spite of reformation, most of us still make the same assumption at some level.  It basically works like this:  We are the church.  Whatever we do and whatever we have experienced is indicative of what the church does.  If the content of Scripture appears to contradict what we do or what we have experienced, we can disregard it because... We are the church.

The net effect is that when the Bible establishes our direction for us, we are very slow to adopt that direction in actual practice.  Many who sincerely believe they are following Christ are actually following a mixture of their religious experiences, their impressions of Christ, and an unhealthy portion of selfish intent.

I'm not real big on the modern church "vision process."  It's been borrowed from the corporate world of commerce, which is another problem.  But I find the typical process incredibly self centered.  Often, we seem to be seeking our vision as informed by Christ, rather than Christ's vision as employed by us.  And the strongest indication of that is the fact that the Bible actually gives us some pretty clear directions that we disregard because they do not fit our religious experience.

A Welcome Chaos

After my last post I checked on a couple of other blogs I follow and found that they, too, had written about church plants.  Hugh Halter's blog and Neil Cole's blog both focused on it, with Cole's blog featuring a long list of the challenges involved.  Points well taken in contrast to my "church plants sometimes look like greener pastures" posting.

I have to say, however, the chaos of a missional church setting would be welcome to me.  Cole's blog talks about all the weeknight meetings training different groups as they plant home churches.  I'd really like to have at least one group of people prepared to be trained for such an endeavor.  That's something I'd really like to work towards.

My house is abuzz today with poultry.  I've been raising chickens as a sort of hobby, and today I have chicks hatching in an incubator, twenty-six new chicks and four goslings that just arrived from the hatchery, all in addition to my fifteen mature layers and my rooster, Stew.  My kids are extremely excited by all this, but to tell you the truth, so am I.

I'd love to feel that way about ministry.  I'd love to be caught up in the excitement of things happening at all levels, and life bursting out everywhere.  I've been trying for a long time to involve everyone in our congregation in everything we are trying to do, and I think I've only frustrated them and myself. At this point, I think I really need, for the sake of productivity and my sanity, to work intensely with a very small group of people who want to explore all the possibilities of what the church could be.

Church Plants

About ten years ago my wife and I seriously considered an opportunity to work with a then recent church plant up in Washington State. Ultimately, it didn't seem to be where God was leading us at the time, but I was certainly intrigued by the possibilities. I realize, of course, that church plants have there own challenges and difficulties, but for many in an established church ministry the thought of being in a setting where the church has not had time to accumulate any baggage is very appealing.

Some day I think I would like to be a part of a church plant, though as I've considered all the options and possibilities, I'd be most interested in some kind of home church network. It is my perception, at this point in the journey, that the effort to restore mission and discipleship to the local church is inhibited by the way we structure "church." I believe the home church format better lends itself to these.

One of the things I've learned from colleagues in church plants is it doesn't take long before established church folk start showing up, and bringing their baggage with them. The environment of a church plant is exciting, and inasmuch as American Christianity is very much about pursuing a feeling, that excitement is a draw. The problem is, these church plants often find themselves burdened with the dead weight of Christians who want that excitement but who are not particularly mission minded.

Hugh Halter at Adullam here in Denver is rather blunt on this point. He sees the missional church as made up of those checking out Jesus and those committed to serving him in a missional way. There is no in between. Hugh is rather unapologetic about the fact that the health of the missional church is often dependent on our willingness to invite people to leave if they've no intent to serve.

On the other end of the church spectrum, Saddleback church in CA requires its members to get involved in a ministry, or go worship somewhere else. I wonder how that really works in a mega church setting. I've often seen people sign onto a new ministry and then do nothing about it for years, so they must have some way of holding people accountable.

I know some will perceive of such things as overly controlling, but the American church is deeply afflicted by an audience syndrome. Paul often describes the church as a body, made up of many parts. Well, the American church is about three-quarters appendix. The appendix is a body part with an indefinite purpose, and when it's removed, you don't really notice its absence. That is the effect that audience has on the local church. A few members serve in the various ministries, and the rest observe.

I think that's what happens when mission gets misplaced. In the absence of mission, churches turn inward, and get focused on how we are feeling for Jesus rather than on what we are doing for Jesus. And it's not enough to merely support missions, we need our churches to be populated by people who share a strong sense of mission and calling on the local level.

What About the People?

It's a fine distinction, inasmuch as the people of the church are the church, but I'm not really all that negative about my fellow Christians as individuals. I think the vast majority of the people who populate our churches are sincere, kind, well intentioned individuals who are genuine in their desire to follow Christ.

It's not a doctrine thing either. My evaluation of the American church has nothing to do with who "gets it right." In regard to theology, every Christian fellowship has its strengths and weaknesses, and the grace of Christ covers us rather than individual righteousness.

But I do believe there is something broken. Ultimately, I think we've been lulled to sleep. I'm a big consumer of books and resources that center on discipleship and mission, and there are many such resources to be had. But at some point I begin to realize the reason these books are so popular is we've very little idea how to practice discipleship and mission. These qualities, once fundamental to the identity of the church, are largely dormant.

I deeply appreciate and admire those who are laboring in Christ to restore these qualities, and I'm praying that our little fellowship can grow and thrive in these areas.

A Parody?

I've been mulling over a comment in my last post about American Christianity being largely a parody of genuine faith. That sounds pretty harsh, and probably deserves some more attention. I know there are a lot of really great things being done by Christians, the churches they attend, and the parachurch organizations that they staff. I know that most of them are devoted, at some level, to worship and prayer. Most of them do a really good job of caring for one another. The poor and the hungry matter to them.

The old cliche is that Christians are hypocrites, but I find that is generally as true of those who make the accusation as it is of those they seek to describe.

The church is populated by imperfect people (myself included) and it always has been. That's not my beef. I'm certainly in no position to condemn anyone for being a sinner.

What motivates my "parody" comment is a comparison between us and the early disciples. Men and women have been martyred for the cause of the Kingdom, and we are reluctant to be inconvenienced. If I had to summarize what I think is broken, I'd say that instead of following and doing for Christ, American Christians (again, with notable exceptions) are mostly feeling and donating for Christ. Our expectation of church and faith is wrapped up in our beliefs about how it should make us feel.

I meet people all the time who are passionate about serving Jesus. But my impression is the American church is currently overwhelmed with people who are just "feeling good" for Jesus. If they stop feeling good, they'll probably be gone. And there is little sense of any calling or mission they may have that reaches beyond themselves.

I guess it's not hard to tell why people who feel that things are pretty good the way they are find my views overly negative or even threatening. It's a tension I've learned, more or less, to live with.

On the Offensive

Recently I built up a list of offenses with a group of people within my congregation. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I've been depressed and angry and that's been coloring the way I talk to people - not such a good thing. On the other hand, I'm told that no one is questioning my commitment to the truth, and that the things I preach have all been directly from the Bible. So if I tell people the truth, and they get offended, who is responsible for that?

I'm not trying to be flippant here. The fact is, even on my best behavior, I tend to offend people.

Wait a minute. That's not quite right. I mean, it's not like I offend everybody. I offend my fellow Christians. Not all of them, but quite a few of them.

I've been doing some pretty serious soul searching about this. I know there are times I say things that do not, perhaps, need to be said. There are also times that I say things that probably need to be said, but which no one really wants to hear. But I think the real issue is that my fellow believers don't like what I think. And what I think is that, while there are some profound exceptions, I find most of American Christianity to be a parody of genuine faith.

While some have found my observations of the modern church interesting or even exciting, others struggle with them. They find me judgmental and arrogant, I suppose. But it's not like I'm claiming to have done so much better. I'm really not all that impressed with us (the western church), in much the same way that the unchurched are not that impressed with us. This is not what a preacher is supposed to think in the American "evangelist as entertainer and cheerleader" church culture.

When I critique the church, some perceive it as church bashing. They feel like I'm undermining something that is dear to them. But I don't usually think of my comments as negative. If I criticize the way we are, it's usually because I believe we can be better - more Biblical, more Christlike, less worldly.

Still, this is not what many people expect of a preacher today. I'm not at all sure what to do about that.

Bad Blogger

OK, so its been forever since I posted anything here. I'm a really bad blogger and I know it. I started this blog because people told me it was a great way to create content for our church website, but I'm afraid I still don't get it.

My wife and most of my friends have Facebook accounts, and I don't really get that either. I know it's a good way to keep up with old friends, but it also seems to make your closest friendships more superficial. After a while, it seems to me, people choose to relate via the internet rather than in person. When our friends get together now, they have conversations about what transpired between them on Facebook. It's like they've nothing else to talk about. And the content of these accounts is not exactly profound. It seems to me that our culture has sort of given up on doing or saying anything of significance, and now we just treat the everyday and the mediocre as if it was significant.

Honestly, I feel that way about blogging. I follow the blogs of some of the leaders in the missional church movement. I've read their books and attended their seminars and really benefited from both. Their blogs, on the other hand, not so much. Oh, now and then there is a gem of wisdom, but overall blogging doesn't seem to be about that.

I've been writing a book for the last couple of years. It's not a long book. It should have been finished more than a year ago. But I find when you write a book you labor over every page. It's a huge investment of time and effort, and you want it to come out just right. A blog, on the other hand, requires virtually no investment (no pun intended). Let's face it, if it weren't for blogs and facebook and twitter and all the rest, none of this stuff would ever get written or published, because the vast majority of it isn't all that interesting.

I've been writing this blog for the benefit of a potential audience to thoughts about the missional experience of church. The few replies I've received since I began have mostly been from people who wanted to argue some point only vaguely related to my topic. I figure they can start their own blogs for that. I've decided to stop writing this for other people, and start writing it for myself. God knows I need the outlet, and most of the time I'm probably the only one reading it anyway.

However, one thing I do crave is the opportunity to share the missional journey with others who are taking it. So, if you are on that journey and something that turns up here resonates with you, I'd love to hear from you.