I'm Outta Here!

As a pastor who still recognizes his youthfulness, I can say with confidence that I can’t comprehend most of the mysteries of Christian ministry. I don’t understand why Christians don’t pray more often (self included). I don’t understand why it is so difficult for physical ministry to transition into spiritual ministry. I don’t understand why we’ve made it so easy for church members to just leave: to walk out the door one day, and then never to return again.

Best I can tell there are three big reasons that people leave the church: they’ve moved; they’ve become discontent; or they’ve been burned up/have been choked out. Perhaps examining each of these reasons will help give a better understanding of just why we’ve made church membership so flexible.

They’ve Moved

Of the three big reasons that people leave the church, this one is the most “pleasant.” If the congregation is located in an area with a higher proportion of active military personnel or professions which capitalize on upward mobility, you’ve probably seen this more often. The members who are leaving the church don’t really want to, but they have to. These members are still likely to stay in contact with others in the congregation, and might even continue giving financially for a time. While it is still difficult to see them go, leaving on amicable terms ensures that the congregation and the departing members will heal more quickly and might even continue benefiting from each other in the future.

They’ve Become Discontent

This is the most painful reason that people leave. Something has happened; an intractable conflict or situation has seemingly forced them out. Perhaps there is an ongoing conflict between families. Or perhaps the departing member wants to wound the church for not doing what he or she wanted. I once witnessed a member announce that he was leaving the church during the Sunday school report at the outset of that Sunday’s worship service due to an intractable problem with the church’s leadership. He either wanted to wound the pastor, the congregation, or both.

            The vast majority of departing members who are discontent aren’t quite so public about it, but they are still just as likely to spread their news around the community, the office, or the gym. It seems that members who leave because of discontentment are very unlikely to rejoin the congregation, at least in the near-term. As a result, it is almost always best just to let them go, even if they were good givers or taught Sunday school or have a large family. Discontent members are very likely to cause divisions in the Body, which means they should be marked and avoided (Romans 16:17). This might sound cold or harsh, but if the discontent member is the one who initiated the departure, praise God.

They’ve Burned Up or Have Been Choked Out

Jesus told us it would be this way. In the Parable of the Sower, half of the seeds fall on ground which shows immediate potential for growth, but something terrible happens. Some spring up, but the soil is rocky. Because of the lack of soil depth, the new growth is killed when the hot sun comes up. Other seed springs up in the thorn bushes, but the new growth is choked out as soon as it really gets going. In both cases, the hope of growth was killed either quickly (in the case of the rocky soil) or methodically (in the case of the thorny soil).

It is my feeling that a huge majority of those who leave our congregations don’t bid tearful goodbyes as they move away…they don’t storm out the front door with a scowl…instead, they slip out the back door. Something compels them to leave. Maybe an old addiction flares up again, and the predictable shame is too great a burden for Sunday morning attendance. Maybe the old habits creep back in. Maybe a new pastor is called who can’t seem to scratch the same itch as the former pastor. Whatever the case, the reason is still the same, and it is biblical: the original growth was illegitimate, and that has now been exposed.

My thinking is that this final group should be the one which keeps us up at night. We should be in constant prayer for them to return…instead, their names are seen as taking up space on our rolls; their baptisms may have become more like notches in our study desks. Shame on us. These are our neighbors, and perhaps family members of some of our dearest members. They should be sought out and brought back into contact with the congregation.

Last week, a field behind our church caught on fire. In all, nearly 40 acres burned up. In the hubbub of the fire trucks and rubberneckers, a woman I’d never seen before frantically ran up to me, “My church is on fire! My church is on fire!” All I could say was, “No…the building is fine. The field behind it is on fire.” But all I could think was What do you mean ‘my church’”? Lady, I’ve never seen you in my life, and I’ve been pastoring here for nearly four years! And truly I was convicted by that encounter. I’ve spent untold hours focusing on discontented members, but there are huge chunks of people near us who don’t even know me. We need to go seek them out. Wouldn’t Jesus do that for us?

Whining About Wine

I will admit, I'm not the world's biggest Duck Dynasty fan, though I do know a bit about the show and the Robertson family. I first came into contact with this latest reality sensation at a minister's meeting, where a local pastor was promoting an evangelistic crusade in our community. He said something like, "Our goal right now is to get Phil Robertson as the main speaker that evening." Several around the table must have given this pastor the same look, because he shortly followed that up with, "You know, the Duck Dynasty patriarch." At home later that evening my wife asked me about the meeting, and after rambling through a few minor things, I said, "Oh. They're organizing a crusade and are hoping to get some Duck Guy to be the main speaker." She knew exactly what I was talking about.

The Duck Dynasty family has taken the nation by storm, and have found their most supportive fans in the pews of conservative evangelical churches. They've accomplished this not only by producing a reality show which is clean and emphasizes the family, but by each becoming outspoken promoters of the gospel and defenders of conservative Christian values (perhaps best seen in the family's support of the pro-life movement). But very quickly the Robertson family has become a major voice for conservatives, particularly Christian conservatives. How did this happen?

Evangelicals, just like every other facet of this culture, are obsessed with celebrity. Just pick your focus. You have your Reformed celebrities like MacArthur, Piper, and Keller. You have your various megachurch/megaministry celebrities like Graham, Stanley (both kinds), and Jeremiah. And then you have your various cultural celebrities like Tebow, select country music singers, and the Robertson family. Some of our celebrities are theological heroes to which we cling, some are larger-than-life personalities we adore, and some are what we might call "crossover stars" who publicly embrace their faith in Christ.

What does this final group of evangelical celebrity give us? Cultural relevance. They make us feel just a tad more significant in this culture which seems to be bent on rejecting us. A couple years ago I was watching Inside the NFL and heard someone singing "Lord, I Lift Your Name on High" and "Our God is an Awesome God" as he was making his way to the huddle. They had Tim Tebow wired for sound for millions to hear. How else could millions of the fans of America's most followed sport be simultaneously exposed to 1980's worship music? That kind of thing warms our hearts, and it suddenly makes 'one of us' relevant to the wide culture which (we believe) wants little to do with the evangelical church. The Robertson family falls into this same category. Devoted to the Lord and clear in their testimony about Christ, they are the perfect candidates for our celebrity evangelical cloud of witnesses. We don't require solid theology. We don't care about ministerial training or experience. Just throw touchdowns, continue writing good, clean songs, and keep attracting huge numbers of cable viewers. Be our Christian celebrity and we will give you our pulpits, our praises, and our support.

And so what happens when cracks appear in the celebrity foundation? What happens when Tim Tebow pulls out of a speaking engagement at a prototypical Southern Baptist church because of pressure from homosexual advocacy groups? What happens when the country music celebrity replaces 'How Great Thou Art' with 'Cowboy Casanova' on her song list? And what happens when the reality show celebrity Christians start fermenting their own wine, as the Robertson clan is now doing for profit?

In the article I reference, Patriarch Phil is quick to pull the "Jesus Turned Water into Wine" card. Fair enough. But did Jesus minister in a society in which alcohol plays an alarmingly significant role in deaths, diseases, divorces, financial ruin, and abuse? Phil definitely does. In fact, the very non-profit ministry which canceled the Robertson appearance, thereby creating this little dust-up, is largely needed because of alcohol abuse. Did Jesus establish his own testimony by describing how the Lord had saved him from a life of alcoholism? Phil has. Many, many times. And here's the biggie: Did Jesus profit from alcohol production?

The final question is the most damaging for the Robertson family's relationship with the American evangelical world. It is difficult to go anywhere these days without being inundated with Duck merchandise. That will soon include the wine aisle at your grocer. This has nothing to do with whether or not drinking is a sin (it is not). This has everything to do with the biggest evangelical celebrities of our day creating an unnecessary stumbling block for a substantial portion of their most loyal followers over yet another branded product to sell to this consumer culture. Simply put, this family appears to be now fully immersed in the root of all sorts of evil; and I'm not talking about making wine. They are part of the very conservative churches of Christ; they knew exactly what would happen when they went into the wine business...and they did it anyway. Why? For the same reason you put your logo on plush ducks and toy cars and plastic cups: money, money, money makes us happy, happy, happy.

My gut feeling is that this is the beginning of the end of the Robertson family's evangelical celebrity stardom. Not because of angry teetotalers calling for boycotts (that doesn't seem to be happening...yet), but rather because they've been kind of exposed. Not exposed as drinkers, but as folks willing to risk strife in the Body of Christ over a meaningless wine label which is intended to do nothing but bring in a little more moolah. The only cost is sacrificing your reputation among some of your most loyal fans.

As C. Montgomery Burns once said of his vast wealth, "I'd trade it all for a little more." Such is celebrity, where all glory is fleeting, so grab all you can. We should have learned this lesson by now - the Lord knows I should've learned it! - in the Kingdom of God, man-made celebrities are brought to nothing, while the least of these sit on the lap of Jesus. The sooner we evangelicals understand all of the implications of that, the better. Hey, that's a fact, Jack!

Note the less-than-subtle subtitle.

In Internet Veritas

There is an old Latin saying which most everyone has experienced either by absorption or abuse: in vino veritas, loosely translated into English as "there is truth in wine." Humans have long discovered that alcohol is very much a truth serum: when people are inebriated, the truth from the depths of their hearts tends to surface. Some become abusive. Others become silly. Some begin to cling tightly to those around them, revealing a desperate search for self-purpose and security, even if it comes in the arms (and beds) of total strangers. Others run their mouths and tell you what they really think.

In Vino Veritas.

Anonymity does the same thing. I'm sure it always has. Hate mail rarely has a return address on the envelope. Talk radio, so full of vitriolic puffery, is made possible by callers who are known only by their first name and hometown. The anonymous nature of such media is what makes them possible. But like with so many other facets of life, technology takes something very old and raises the stakes. I've noticed lately that if you really want a peak into the heart of humanity, take a moment to peruse the user comments section of a website. Be prepared to be shocked. Yikes.

My theory is that these comments are not being made by the outliers of society alone, as much as I want to believe it. I want to envision tin-foil-hat-wearing losers wearing mustard-stained shirts and sitting in their mom's basement...angered by their failures, resentful because of too many misunderstandings and social embarrassments, armed with opinions based on the manipulative teachings of some cracked up philosophy professor they took to earn their useless and aging degree. You remember Comic Book Guy from "The Simpsons"?

But I don't think that's who these people are, or at least not most of them. Our society is now an electronic society. The major newspapers in our state are all now 3 days a week operations. If you want the news anywhere close to as it unfolds, you go to the conglomerate's website. And there is all the news, weather, sports, obituaries, and classified listings your heart desires. And at the bottom of each article is the comments section, filled with typically madness, vulgarity, and spite. Three subjects tend to elicit the biggest responses: national politics, college football, and religion. But it is the final category which always, without fail, engenders the most hateful remarks.

Case in point: not long ago a local church was holding a crusade. The newspaper did an article on the crusade, interviewing the pastor and a couple of members. Immediately, the user comments were the typical fare we've come to expect: "This would be news if the minister said they weren't going to pass the basket and ask for money." "Cool. I hope they do some of those fake 'healings.'" "Fake healings and speaking in tongues. And don't forget to pass the plate!" And truthfully, those were downright nice comments compared to other discussions which erupt on this website.

So what causes this? Anonymity. There is little doubt in my mind that most of these folks would never say such demeaning or outright disrespectful things to strangers that they assail over the internet, but with the bubble of anonymity...well...let 'er rip. Emily Post has no place here. Which means that this is the reality of how many of our neighbors think and feel about any number of significant subjects, most importantly matters of faith. This is the truth of what we're up against as we seek to lead folks to Jesus.

Jesus said that all kinds of evil which we see and experience doesn't come from external sources, but "from out of the heart." And sometimes hearts are naked for all to see, even when we think we're anonymous. In Internet Veritas.

Where Healing Is Found

"Don't be afraid; believe, and your daughter will be healed."

- Jesus (Luke 8:50)

I believe that our God is a healing God. I believe that Jesus is able to heal today just as he healed the sick in the Gospels. I believe that he can use various methods for his healing purposes, including everything from medical science and just plain common sense. 

So, then, why is it that I often pray for the sick without this attitude of faith? Why do I go through the motions so often? Given the unlikely occurrence, I would stake my earthly life on a confession of faith which included the Lord's power of healing, and yet in the solitude of prayer I often overlook or discredit his power to heal.

I should know better...not just because of Scripture and testimonies, but because I have experienced healing for myself. In the late fall of 2008 I became rather ill with a stomachache that wouldn't quit. I would wake up in the morning with greater discomfort than the day before, and the area of pain was growing, too. I eventually went to the ER and was referred to a specialist, who ordered a bunch of tests including scopes and such. The doctor told me that he found nothing wrong except some minor acid reflux. He gave me some medicine, some of which made me depressed and anxious (through that experience I believe the Lord taught me a little bit about what so many folks struggle with).

But the pain continued. Soon it was late December, and the constant pain had lasted for a couple of months. To complicate matters, I was about to go on a short-term mission trip to Brazil. Even though many believers around me had sacrificed to help me pay for the trip, I was about to drop out. It all came to a head on that last Sunday in December as I sat through the ordinary routine of the Lord's Supper ordinance. 

The deacon brought the bread. Should I stay or go? If I go, I will be in the middle of nowhere, and unable to speak the language. I already feel terrible...but what if I get really, really sick?

Then the deacon brought the cup, and the Lord quietly invaded my space with a question: "Do you believe that I can heal you?" "Yes, Lord, I do." "Then drink the cup with faith." So I drank it while praying for healing. I wish I could say the Lord healed me right then and there, but he didn't. He made me sweat it out a bit, like he did with Jairus in Luke 8. On the way home from church, I began to have a new thought: if I believe the Lord can heal me, I should probably go on this trip. So I went. 

When I arrived in Sao Paulo, my first thoughts had to do with spotting a nearby hospital...just in case. But by the end of the first day, I had totally forgotten about my sickness. I mean I totally forgot about it. It wasn't until I returned home several weeks later when someone asked me how my stomach felt that I remembered, and praised God right then and there. I had been healed.

Now, what was it that brought relief? When I visited the gastro doctor a few weeks later, he told me that he guessed it was a sickness caused by "self-limiting bacteria," and that the medicine finally did the trick after weeks or waiting. Maybe. Maybe it was the cuisine change in Brazil. Maybe it was psychosomatic. Or maybe it was miraculous and inexplicable. Here's what I know: regardless of how he did it, Jesus still did it. You want to find healing? Look for Jesus. His will doesn't always match up with our desires, but his will is always perfect. 

Book Review: Calling and Character

Calling and Character: Virtues of the Ordained Life
William H. Willimon
$13.99 at CBD

"The great ethical danger for clergy is not that we might 'burn out,'" writes William Willimon in Calling and Character. "Our danger is that we might 'black out,' that is to lose consciousness of why we are here and who we are called to be for Christ and his church." Thus Willimon summarizes the main argument of this relatively little book, a book which will certainly challenge all readers who are in vocational ministry positions to take their responsibilities and callings with the utmost seriousness.

Calling and Character was mandatory reading in the seminary, and I come back to it often for a reminder of why ministry leaders must always remain sober-minded and above reproach in the ministry, as the Apostle Paul once wrote to Timothy. This is serious subject matter, and the author tackles it seriously; although, in typical Willimon style, he also uses humor and interesting stories to hold the reader's attention.

To substantiate his case, Willimon crafts together a brief survey of Christian writings on what we might broadly term "clergy ethics," borrowing from such notable figures as Ambrose of Milan, Chrysostom (who's On Christian Priesthood plays a significant role in the book), and Martin Luther. As a result, Calling and Character is a treasure trove of time honored Christian thought in this often-neglected area of our faith.

A word of warning: this book is intended for clergy. The subtitle indicates that much right off the bat. Reading the book beyond the purview of vocational ministry could leave one concluding that Willimon overlooks ethics in the pews, and that he is guilty of segregating the pastor from his congregation. This isn't his intent.

I would certainly recommend Calling and Character to all who are in the ministry, regardless of how long you have served.
Use it for the glory of God and the edification of the saints. We have a high calling, but we also serve a God who is capable of supplying every one of our needs.

Taking Back the Lord's Day

"On the first day of the week we came together to break bread."

(Acts 20:7a)

There was a time when the local church was the most important organization in most towns and villages in the U.S. The church steeple was likely the tallest man-made structure in these towns. The church bell was the loudest man-made object. The pastor or priest was considered every bit as important as the town physician or political leader. And the church was a preeminent center of community life, especially on Sunday.

I suppose things began to change during the course of the Twentieth Century in these quaint towns. The radio tower became the tallest man-made structure. The work bell became the loudest object in mill communities which dotted the country in those days. The pastor or priest took on a more professional role with most of his time spent in his study in the church buildings and posted office hours for congregants to follow. And the church slowly forfeited its role as the preeminent center of community life, even on Sunday.

The little kid on the block.

Old folks liked to call the first day of the week "The Lord's Day." This isn't some Victorian-era expression of religiosity; this is how the New Testament describes the first day of the week on the other side of the resurrection of Jesus. The earliest Christians were so deeply impacted by the resurrection of Christ that they arranged their weekly calendars by it. Saturday was at one time man's day of rest, but now Sunday would be the Lord's Day of worship and honor. The Sabbath rest provided by the Lord's redemptive work was meant to be enjoyed every day of the week, but Sunday held a special place of privilege as the day set aside primarily for the Lord himself.

Needless to say, these days are long gone. We are now 24/7 people. We expect our favorite TV shows to air when we want them to air. The 9-5 workday is an endangered species, as is the traditional M-F workweek. Sundays in the warmest seasons are quite easily the first or second busiest day at golf courses and lakes, even those virtually surrounded by the sound of church bells. Retailers would sink without Sunday business (though Chick-fil-A seems to be doing ok without it).

And, as with so many other contemporary examples, the church - once the center of community life - is being urged to play by the culture's redefined rules. In a recent blog post, LifeWay CEO Thom Rainer tackled the issue of declining church attendance by arguing, among other things, that churches should "offer more options for worship times." His example was of a friend who told him that he had changed churches because his old church didn't have a corporate worship time to accommodate his business travels. 

Understand, I'm cool with multiple service times. I'd be ok with the New Testament model, which goes way beyond "pick a time, any time." But most churches of our tradition already hold a mid-week service which (in theory) promotes corporate prayer and Bible study. If Thom Rainer's inclination was correct, we wouldn't be seeing the mass exodus that we are on Wednesday nights. And yet most Baptist churches I know of are struggling to maintain a mid-week prayer service amid multiple other mid-week programs in the local church (AWANA/RAs/GAs/CiAs/children's choir/student ministries/etc.) AND the schedules of many of our regular Sunday attendees who simply can't commit to things which fall on a weeknight or during their child's athletic season. Simply put, Sunday morning still remains the best day and time to hold corporate worship in smaller to medium-sized churches.

Perhaps we need more men in more pulpits preaching the truth of the Lord's Day. Perhaps we need more of our Sunday school teachers teaching about the life-altering results of the resurrection, and how that should even impact our culturally-driven schedules. We should promote renewed minds over culturally-conformed schedules. We should remember that Sunday is the day we peek behind the screen into heaven, when we get a weekly foretaste of glory divine. That is far too important for us to compromise away.

Yes, there appears to be little we can do about work schedules, particularly while we believers engage in Sunday trade just like the rest of the world does. In this economy where retail is king, many of our congregants have employment requirements on Sunday. But this fact alone should not deter us from hope and practice. I'm looking specifically at you, Dad and Mom...and I'm looking at you, Mr. Irregular. The more we can reflect the resurrection, the better.

Kids These Days?

Yesterday evening as I commuted home from the study, my radio dial found itself parked on the local sports talk station. Now, I admit that this is potentially dangerous activity, but I tend to flip it over there once in a while through the college football season because there are some tasty morsels among the voluminous tripe of sports talk radio.

My listening began after the host's tirade had already reached the next gear, and I had no idea what the overall context of his ramblings was. All I knew was that the NCAA had treated the Kid poorly. He said it over and over again, emphasizing the victimizer (the NCAA) and the victim (the Kid). Just before I turned the thing off, I discovered that the monologue was about the case of Steven Rhodes, a former Marine who had planned to walk on at Middle Tennessee State University...that is, before the NCAA intervened to inform him that his prior participation in a military recreation football league would render him ineligible from competition for one year. (His ineligibility, incidentally, was more akin to a mandatory redshirt than actual ineligibility, meaning that Rhodes would still have four full years of eligibility after sitting out this season.)

Steven Rhodes: A Man

Pronouncing a Marine ineligible for playing rag-tag football while serving his country? Sounds like tirade material! And, truthfully, the NCAA was wrong...again...by following the letter rather than the spirit of their bylaws. But I was most struck by the host's ongoing description of Steven Rhodes: the Kid.

The Kid is a 24 year old man. He was man enough to serve in our nation's military as one of the few and the proud. He is apparently man enough to walk on and play Div. 1 college football. Until the media intervened, he would have also been man enough to deal with a redshirt year (I get the feeling this is the kind of man who could have handled going to college while awaiting another opportunity to walk on next year). Point being, he's not a kid.

This is more than splitting hairs over terminology; this is another small indicator of a major cultural imbalance: arrested adolescence. As younger adults struggle with their entrance into maturity, older adults are characterizing them more and more as kids. Still living at Mom and Dad's? Must be a kid. Can't figure out what to major in after three years of college courses? Must be a kid. More of a gamer than worker? Well, you get the point.

Another thing I've noticed is that it is almost always younger men who are given this designation. Younger women are sometimes referred to as "girls" by their close acquaintances or those who are quite elderly, but rarely are younger women called "kids." Maybe this is because younger women are less likely to act like kids. Yes, they too are prone to their own kinds of fits of self-aggrandizing immaturity in the YOLO culture, but our society - for perhaps the first time in Western history - expects far more from our younger women than we do their male counterparts. Younger men are expected to fail...expected to bumble through college or get somebody pregnant or fail to launch. Hollywood has taught us this with any movie starring any member of the Frat Pack, right?

We need men these days. I don't mean Skoal-spittin', honky-tonkin', truck-drivin', camo-wearin' dudes; I'm talking about wife-lovin', child-raisin', God-honorin' men. No more gamers. No more kids who can shave. No more guys with their dreams of fantasy football greatness. We need men who understand their role in the Kingdom of God. We need men who have been shaped in part by childhood, but like the Apostle, have left the childish things in the past. We need men who are so acquainted with the mercy and grace of the Lord that they aren't willing to waste the best years of their lives on themselves. We know where the kids are -- where are the men these days?