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.

Playing with Jesus?

I stumbled upon something this week that caught me a little off guard. I had read a book review in which the writer lamented the phenomenon of the “cuddly Jesus.” This is the idea that we have sometimes made Jesus so feminine that no self respecting man would want to follow him, and we’ve characterized him as such a safe, passive, “buddy” that really, no one would be inspired to following him.
That struck me as an interesting observation, so I did a search for “cuddly Jesus” to see what other writers might have to say about it. What I got back was information about Jesus “toys.” I’d heard rumors, from time to time, about Jesus action figures, but I had no idea just how many Jesus toys are now available. Most of them seem to be manufactured with good intentions, such as the Jesus puppet, for use in Bible classes and storytelling. The action figures of Jesus and other Bible characters are supposed to help our kids act out their favorite Bible stories. And the plush Jesus dolls (think Beanie Baby) are supposed to help kids “bond” with our Savior. Other toys are so cynical as to be considered blasphemous by some, such as the “Jesus Astronaut Action Figure” (a limited edition, no less) and the various bobble-head and talking dashboard Jesuses.
I am tempted to take offense at these last few products, but I know it is, for the most part, the shallow, card board cut-out version of Jesus that they mock, and not the real, Lion of Judah Jesus. So, I feel obliged to extend some measure of grace, even if I find the some of the offerings pretty tasteless and rude.
Blasphemy, as I understand it, is limited to those who know they are messing with God, and do it anyway. I don’t get the impression the makers of these toys really know who they are dealing with. I mean, if Jesus can hang on the cross and ask his Father to forgive those who put him there because they don’t understand the significance of their actions, then I guess we can handle it when the world gives us some ribbing about our Christian images and idiosyncrasies.
What I actually find more disturbing are the toys intended for our good. I don’t want to be overly pious about this. I can certainly understand the argument that if our children have toys that reflect their favorite heroes, they should have a toy that reflects the ultimate hero of humanity. But there is a definite ironic ickyness to having a Jesus that we can so easily manipulate. Or a Jesus that is perpetually warm, soft, and cuddly. We may well be forging a bond between our kids and Jesus, but what Jesus? Is this the revolutionary Jesus, who upset the social and religious order of things? The Jesus who is the living image of the invisible God? The Jesus who endured death on our behalf and invites us to take up our own cross and follow his example? Is this the dangerous, powerful, and controversial Son of God? Or is this the Jesus that we can leave on the shelf or in the toy box until we are ready to play? Is this the “always a comforter, never a confronter” Jesus that our culture has so embraced?
Perhaps I’m being overly cynical, as I often am. But our world has an infatuation with a Jesus that always affirms, always comforts, always endorses my own plans. He is a Jesus whose actions I can control; whose presence is my decision. He is fun to play with, but He is not the Jesus of the Gospels.

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.