Category: Church

Posted on

Church Hurt

“What do you do if you see a person walking down the street with a knife plunged into their back?” My high school Bible teacher asked the rhetorical question to a room full of freshmen. I attended a Christian school where daily Bible Classes were part of the core curriculum. We looked at him, wide-eyed, and almost hypnotized like a deer looking into the headlights of oncoming traffic. No one had an answer, and no one dared to speak, including me as I was thinking, “We haven’t covered first aid in health class yet!?”

My Bible teacher was not interested in physical knives thrust into the back of helpless victims. He was making a point about the way students of this Christian school weaponized their words against each other, particularly behind each other’s backs. In retrospect, it may have been my first exposure to the darker side of church or parachurch organizations that leads to church hurt.

No, I take that back. The first church hurt moment I remember involved a pastor who felt persecuted. He believed that he and his church were being attacked by outside forces, including the government. Truth be known, people were raising suspicions about abuse in his church. The pastor decided to run and take his church with him. He ordered construction on a compound in Guyana, named it after himself, and made his escape. Within three years the abuse accusations continue to surface, and word was it that people wanted out. With the government coming down on the cult, November 18, 1978 Jim Jones of the People’s Temple orchestrated a mass murder-suicide.

I was in the seventh grade and the coverage was all over the news. One of my teachers suspended teaching and spent three class periods debriefing the incident. We talked about our feelings and our fears and tried to get our heads wrapped around the Christian faith taking such a dark turn.

Church is supposed to be a safe place, a harbor, in the midst of the storm, or a gathering “where everybody knows your name.” Scars are supposed to heal through church, not become the source of the scars. If Acts 2 is the ideal church community, then coming together includes teaching or instruction, sharing both a meal and communion, prayer, being together, fellowshipping, and finding commonality rooted in praising God, all the while lost people are sought out and found (Act. 2:42-47). I love the lines, “they had everything in common” and “gave to anyone who had need” (Act. 2:44,45). I don’t know about you, but it makes me want to pursue that kind of church.

But somewhere along the way, things went wrong. Very wrong. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the church hurt to begin.

Paul had established the church in Corinth, but the very church he planted began rejecting him. He describes his relationship to the church as an affectionate father never withholding love from his children (2 Cor. 6:11-12), but they were withholding love from him. Truth be known, they became mesmerized by the flashy preachers with their charismatic, bigger-than-life personalities, oratory skills, and letters of recommendations listing all of their accomplishments. Suddenly, Paul looked weak, vulnerable, and less impressive. But something dark and sinister was metastasizing in Corinth, and its source was these antagonistic leaders stealing Paul’s flock. Paul saw it first: their charisma was outpacing their character. Left unchecked, it was not going to end well.

By 2 Corinthians 11:19-20, just before Paul dares to go toe-to-toe with these antagonists he calls, “super-apostles” (12:11), and his words are dripping with sarcasm. He exposed the fraudulent Oz behind the curtain to the church. He shows them/us just what is behind their charisma, and it’s not their high quality character. And while he asks them to put up with some of his nonsense, they have been putting up with a lot worse. A lot worse. First, he says that the antagonists have “enslaved them,” possibly by domineering or lording their authority over the church to which Corinth easily surrendered their will. When you give up free thinking to be shackled by the personality of someone else you lose your freedom in Christ. Secondly, he says they “exploit” the church by preying on them with predator-like aggression. Star struck by the persona of these leaders they were easily fed upon. Members likely opened their homes to them as they overstayed their welcome, milking their resources dry. Thirdly, they are “taking advantage of” the church as if these leaders were fishing and dangling the bait before the Corinthians. Like hungry fish, they were easily caught because the fish are biting. Fourthly, they “push themselves forward” by self-promotion or making sure they were first. They have an overinflated ego which when fed, is like trying to fill the stomach of a teenage boy; their egos were never satisfied. Finally, Paul accuses them of “slapping them in the face,” which is physically abusive language. The phrase “slap in the face” is a tame translation to which Paul is trying to underscore the violent behavior of these leaders and the Corinthians’ willingness to submit to such men. They smiled and oozed with love until pushed and their façade crumbled to the ground.

Paul doesn’t tell us what the fallout would be by following such leadership, he probably doesn’t need to. Instead, he takes a parting satirical shot at his church when he says, “To my shame I admit that (I) was too weak for that” (v. 21a). I don’t know about you, but I can see an apostolic eye-roll as Paul wrote those words.

I wish the evidence of church hurt was limited to Corinth as an anomaly. But predatory behavior can be found throughout the New Testament where church leaders feed off of the people they are called to protect. No, unfortunately, Corinth only exposed the real possibility that church hurt can exist. Church hurt does exist.

The trail of hurt caused by churches is long and well documented. Books have been written, podcasts recorded, and films that have been produced. They are dark, deadly, and dangerous which does not take too much time to give a person the heebie-jeebies. If the abuse is not bad enough, the cover up is always worse. Always, especially when the church chooses to protect the guilty and not the innocent. When such criminal activity is exposed, and they need exposing, it sheds a much needed light on man’s sinful nature to control, manipulate, exploit, and milk the people for the self-gratuitous nature of the church leader(s). 

Church hurt can be seen on a spectrum or a continuum. Certainly, Paul’s depiction in Corinth is bad, and potentially extreme. What some have experienced in their lifetime may be worse. Far more worse. On the other side of the spectrum, church hurt occurs because people coming together is like porcupines hugging. We don’t mean to, but by close proximity, we end up hurting each other. A careless word, or silence when a word should have been spoken, hurts. Someone getting their way, again or being left out, hurts. And when the Bible is weaponized instead of properly exposed, the fallout is great, and the pain rarely goes away.  

The truth is we’ve all been hurt by church, me included. I could tell you stories and describe the scars I carry. They are visible. They are real. But as I reflect on this moment, I confess. I’ve hurt people too. I know three men whom I engaged with as middle-school kids years ago when I confronted and spoke harsh words to them. One of them preaches for a church and is doing a wonderful ministry. I’d love to take credit for the direction of his life. I can’t. He is not a minister because of me and my words to him, but in spite of me. The two other men are no longer in church. I don’t believe I had anything to do with their dropout, but I was not the reason they stayed in church either. I can point the finger at those who cause church hurt, but three are pointing right back at me. And those fingers sting.

So I live with guilt and shame, as I pray for God’s grace and mercy. I believe God extends it to me, which is why I have to remind myself to extend that same grace and mercy to the church. Since I need it, I know the church God established needs it as well.

As for the church, until confession and repentance for its destructive behavior, its cover-up, and its decision to protect the villain instead of the victim – which is so well documented – materializes, I’m afraid the church will continue to struggle for relevance, relationship, and restoration. People are hurting. They are angry. The abuse they experienced was allowed, and those in power used their position to hurt, not to heal. The church has been anything but Acts 2. The church has been anything but Jesus to the world.

Remember the story about the knife in the back? I guess what should have happened is that someone – like the church – needs to gently remove the knife, wash the wound, apply an oil-healing balm, and needed pressure so that the wound will heal and life may be restored. It may take time, but it will heal. Finally, let’s hold the one(s) who wielded the knife accountable for the damage caused to the victim(s).

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

CHURCH: You Have Come

Church attendance in America has steadily declined throughout my lifetime. What was once the bedrock of our society has crumbled into seemingly shifting sands. The reasons are varied and difficult to outline here. Some of the factors are linked to the ever growing secularization of society while other causes are self-inflicted by the church itself. The recent Pandemic seems to have only exasperated the trend, leaving many to wonder the future of the church.

We aren’t the first ones who have struggled with church attendance, but we are the latest to do so. A group of Jewish Christians meeting in either Palestine or Rome became disillusioned by the Christian faith. They were second generation believers (Heb. 2:3) with a storied past. They had endured hard times facing persecution head on (Heb. 10:32-34), but now they were wavering (Heb. 10:35-36). Possibly enamored by the Jerusalem worship, their small house church couldn’t compete with the memories of the extravagant temple worship. Now they were looking to throw their faith away and revert back into full blown Judaism. We simply know this group from the letter to the Hebrews.

While the argument of the anonymous writer centers on Jesus being better than angels, Moses, the Old Covenant, the priesthood, and sacrifices, the apex of his argument is the heroes of faith in chapter 11. Having crested his thought process, the author gives one more compelling image before bringing his letter to a close. He addresses what happens behind the scenes in the assembly. Ignoring what we might know as the “worship wars” issues, he describes a reality we don’t see. He does so by a compare/contrast of two different and familiar places of worship. The writer moves from “You have not come,” to “You have come.”  

You have not come (Heb. 12:18-24) to an unnamed mountain. The writer starts in the negative to describe what is clearly Mt. Sinai and the giving of the Covenant (Ex. 19:10-25). At that mountain the people were forbidden from even touching the mountain. Fear and trembling permeated throughout Israel, even Moses himself was terrified. By reverting back to the Jewish faith, the Christians were returning to Sinai and the deadly fearful holiness of God.

You have come (Heb. 12:22a) to a mountain explicitly named, Zion. He also drops Jerusalem’s name but here he makes a turn. Where we come to is not the physical city of David, but a heavenly one. As we assemble, the physical place transports us spiritually to an entirely different reality.

You have come (Heb. 12:22b-23a) to a multitude of angels joyfully worshiping God. We do not assemble alone, regardless of our size. We are the church of the firstborn, God’s most precious people. First born like first fruits bring a status and privilege we receive from God as our names are written in heaven. Note the confidence of the writer. Our names are written, not might be written, or possibly written, or written only for a select faithful few, or written with disappearing ink. The assurance strikes with confidence: since our names are written in heaven, so don’t bail on your faith now.

You have come (Heb. 12:23b-24) both to God who is the final judge and to Jesus who mediates the new covenant. Drawing from an earlier mention of Abel (11:4) and from Genesis 4:10, where God says Abel’s blood was calling out for justice, Jesus’ blood calls out to something far better than Abel’s cry: redemption.

Right in the middle of these verses the writer says that not only are the multitude of angels present in our assemblies, but so also are the “spirits of righteous men made perfect” (v. 23b). One wonders, who are these men? First, I believe it’s safe to say that the writer is speaking generally of men so that the spirits made righteous are both men and women. Secondly, these are not the heavenly hosts mentioned earlier as he noted for they are the thousands of angels. Since the imagery is of a spiritual Jerusalem surrounded by the angelic hosts, then these spirits made righteous are the men and women of faith who have gone on before us. They are the “great cloud of witnesses” (Heb. 12:1) who are comprised, not only of those from chapter of 11, but also all those who lived by faith even in the face of death. When we assemble, we are not alone. We join the saints whom we’ve loved and respected, but who have already received their reward.

I hear the names and see the faces of all those whom I have admired, and you do too. Some we have personally known and loved. Others we have read about and admired from afar. The Hebrews writer tells us that when we assemble with the saints, we are closer to them then than when we are anywhere. While I’m not sure how much motivation this perspective holds to drive up attendance, the perspective that the assembly is greater than what we see gives clearer motivation to embrace this reminder that showing up for church is beyond this world.

The last Sunday my dad attended services, he broke routine. Usually, mom dropped him off at the door where he walked in and occupied their pew at the front of the auditorium. Mom parked the car then came and sat with dad. On this day mom walked into the auditorium and could not find dad. She sat down, waiting with concern because dad’s health was failing. When services started, he finally joined her on their pew. When pressed as to his whereabouts, dad said he was greeting people. Dad hadn’t greeted anyone for a while. His vulnerability to diseases kept him from shaking people’s hands for some time. Mom realized later that dad was not saying hello, he was telling everybody goodbye.

Now, given the context of Hebrews 12, I wonder. I wonder if dad was not just telling people hello or goodbye, but was in fact, saying, “I’ll see you next week.” And if that is true, it changes everything about the assembly.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., Only God Is Glorified!)

Posted on

Greetings from Babylon

In the summer of 2015 the Supreme Court ruled that the Fourteenth Amendment, originally enacted to protect the freedom of slaves, must now be applied to same sex marriages. The shockwaves were immediately felt. Celebrations and protests were heard almost in tandem. New marriage applications were available while some county clerks refused to issue the license out of conscience. The local newspaper, where I lived, conducted interviews with local preachers asking them their opinion and what they were going to do about the new mandate. As expected they stood against the decision and their sermons the Sunday after the announcement reflected their position.

I chose another route.

The struggle with the shifting culture is the disorientation we feel. We tell ourselves how we live in a Christian society with Christian neighbors and laws that reflect our Christian faith. As soon as laws get passed that conflict with our core value-sets our equilibrium begins to tilt and then spin. Sometimes out of control. We can cry “Foul!” or we complain, but no one listens. No one seems to care. The result always damages our witness to those who don’t believe. We are in a post-Christian era trying to view the world through a Christian era lens. We’ve convinced ourselves that we live in Jerusalem when in truth we live in Babylon. We’ve always lived in Babylon.

The following Sunday of the Supreme Court ruling I announced to the church the fall sermon series. I was preaching from 1 Peter. Instead addressing the ruling, I addressed the response to our culture. Peter’s first epistle gives the best possible way to fix, not the ruling, but our equilibrium.

Peter bookends his epistle with two words that convey the imagery he fleshes out in the body of the letter. The first is “diasporas” (1:1b) a word used to describe the Jews who were dispersed and scattered throughout the world when they were taken into captivity. In those days they found themselves in the heart of pagan territory, hostile to their faith and void of the temple which grounded their fidelity. They found themselves as unwelcomed strangers inhabiting a new land, a land they didn’t want. Peter picks up on that theme to say Christians living in a pagan world experience the same kind of disorientation. The place may be familiar but we do not fit in. We’re strangers. We’re sojourners. We’re pilgrims dispersed throughout the world. While we don’t belong, we don’t lose our faith either.

The second word of the bookend comes at the end of the letter where Peter claims he’s writing from Babylon (5:13). The cryptic message is unlikely literal as no record of Peter going into the city exists. More likely, he’s writing from Rome addressing the church in various locations (see 1:1b). By name dropping Babylon, Peter reinforces his theme of strangers living in a strange land.

The word to describe Peter’s message is exile. Located in a place far from home, living among people who do not hold common values. The exilic person feels ostracized, intimidated, and abandoned. No, we’ve probably never been exiled, but we’ve felt something similar to an exile.

In John Mark Comer’s book, Live No Lies (see pg. xxiv-xxvi), he describes the shared experiences of the exiled. First, a shift has occurred where Christians used to be in the majority, but are now a minority. Fewer and fewer people are identifying with a local church and long term trends are anything but optimistic on changing the trend. Secondly, being a Christian was once a badge of honor but now is often viewed as a prison of shame. Instead of the Church as a place to offer a pathway to solving social problems, the Church has too often been part of creating or exasperating the social problems. We’ve created part of the dilemma we live in. Thirdly, because of the first two, a shift has occurred where society may have been tolerant of the Christian perspective but are quickly moving to being intolerant. The result is that people who identify as Christian are in the minority and are bearing the shame of the title finding more and more intolerance toward such perspective. Comer’s description sounds like we’re exiled in our own land.

If Comer’s assessment is right, then maybe we can start understanding how we’re living in a post-Christian era which looks a lot like the pre-Christian era in which Peter wrote his epistle. We start viewing ourselves as exiles in a forsaken Babylon instead of citizens of safe Jerusalem. Some of the themes Peter touches on include hope (1:3-9), a call to living holy lives (1:15-16), accepting social rejection (2:4-8), suffering like Jesus (2:21-24; 3:3-22), living with an unbelieving spouse (3:1-7), living at the end of time (4:7-10), all while staying alert to the dangers surrounding us (5:8-9).

So when the verdict was handed down by the Supreme Court, I chose not to rail against the decision, though I am sure my congregation wished I had. I chose instead to take a different and difficult route. I began reframing our context. Society is far less friendly to the Christian faith then originally believed. Society has always been unfriendly to the Christian faith when it really mattered. The difference is that foreign soil. We’re being forced to reevaluate what following Christ really means, and that really is not so bad. We have a pretty good roadmap and it includes a letter from the Apostle Peter.  

Solo Deo Gloria!
(i.e., Only God Is Glorified!)

Posted on

CHURCH: Rooted in a Pagain World

Jesus re-counts a series of parables in Matthew 13, most of which deal with agriculture and farming. Following the story of the sower sowing seeds (v. 1-23), he tells about the wheat and the weeds (v. 24-30). Here a farmer sows good seed, but during the night his enemy sowed a weed that grows to look like wheat. In fact, this particular weed is almost indistinguishable from the wheat. Almost. More so, the weed is destructive and can devastate the entire crop, and not just this crop but corrupt the field for years to come. When the workers asked the owner what to do, they assumed the right action was to go out into the field to pull up the weeds. Instead, the owner feared for the wheat. “While you’re pulling the weeds, you may root up the wheat with them. Let them grow together until harvest” (v. 29-30a).

“Let them grow together” is a risky move. I’m not sure I can agree with it, either. Neither do you. We know the sayings, “Birds of a feather, flock together.” “If you lie down with the dogs, you wake up with fleas. “One bad apple can spoil the whole bunch.” ”You’re known by the company you keep.” Even Paul, not satisfied with saying it once, said it twice, “A little yeast works through the whole batch of dough” (1 Cor. 5:6b; Gal. 5:9). So allowing the weeds to grow with the wheat is a risky move and clearly gives bad has an open lane to overtake the good in the process.

But what is the alternative solution? If the workers go out and uproot the weeds, the owner fears that they’ll be unable to distinguish the difference between the weed and the wheat. What looks like a weed may in fact be uprooted wheat and what is passed over as wheat may in fact be weed destroying the wheat around it. Allow each scenario to play out in your mind and it’s like a catch-22; either choice is fraught with risk.

The parable gives us cause to pause. We tend to be like the workers, believing that we can clean up the field by rooting out the evil. We know and can spot the difference between the wheat and the weed, and uprooting them is possible without destroying the wheat. Or so we believe. But in our attempt to clean up the world, we do more damage and destruction than if we were patient. Allowing the wheat and the weed to grow together until the harvest provides clear distinction between the two so that the Owner himself can oversee the separation process.

God’s Church is rooted in a pagan society. The biblical story is clear and does not gloss over the reality that we live in a fallen world. Sin is prevalent and pervasive. Like a weed it takes hold of people at their roots to steal nutrients and to suck out life. We’re called to grow and thrive in a field that has more than its fair share of weeds. Our calling sets the bar very high. We’re planted in a pagan society, but the pagan society is not to take root in or lives.

Herein lies the problem. We’ve convinced ourselves that the society we live in is better, sanitized and even “Christianized;” sometimes it feels like it is while other times it’s as pagan as any other society. We’ve come to believe that we’re planted in a field without weeds or at least the weeds are minimal at best. Thus, we’re confused and disorientated when we see society acting so un-Christ-like, or see morals and ethics continue its decline. We pray for our leaders, but it feels like we’re wasting our breadth. We pray for a society that ultimately is choking us out.

So as we tend to our field, we trust in the Owner’s wisdom. We shy away from rooting out the weeds in fear of rooting out the wheat. Instead, we continue to work the ground so that the wheat will grow and bear fruit (Gal. 5:22-23). So when hate ravages, we cultivate love. When despair expands, we nurture joy. When conflict and turmoil overtake, we foster peace. When intolerance extends, we develop patience. When cruelness chases, we pursue kindness. When stinginess rears its ugly head, we enrich with generous goodness. When disloyalty and falsehood dominates, we plant truthful faithfulness. When self-indulgence influences, we encourage self-control. Because, when we’re rooted in a pagan world, we still have to grow.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

Family Ties: Somewhere Between “Too Much” & “Not Enough”

Families shape individual identity, provide a safe and secure environment for growth, and help nurture faith. Unfortunately, families can also disfigure an individual’s identity through a distorted reality by exposing members to dangerous environments which destroy faith. Where the family is supposed to be a haven, sometimes the best and safest move is step away from that family. Saul’s son, Jonathan, pivoted away from his family and by doing so, stepped into righteousness.

The first King of Israel was Saul, and his son, Jonathan, was heir to the throne. This man was gifted, godly and full of goodness. We remember Jonathan for two events that defined his character. First, he was loyal to David, defending his honor even before his father (1 Sam. 20:32-34). Not only was he willing to protect David, but he was just as free to sacrifice his future spot on the throne to serve under David’s rule (1 Sam. 23:17). Secondly, Jonathan ate honey against his father’s commands (1 Sam.  14:24-30). Not only had Jonathan violated the king’s edict, but he called out his father’s own foolishness for the imposed mandate (1 Sam. 14:29-30).

Jonathan demonstrated an ability to differentiate himself from his family or his father, exercising a skill many people lack.

Psychologists tell us that most family dynamics hold the extremes. On one side families are enmeshed with each other by living in the “too much.” The unit is so tightly woven that individuals lose their own identity to the larger family. No one is allowed to make their own decisions or to speak with their own voice. If a child is sick, then everyone has to be present for support. Your business is everyone’s business.

On the other side families are disengaged with each other by living in the “not enough.” They don’t have enough time for each other. Long dry spells where members fail to speak to each other occur. When they do speak, it quickly escalates into shouting matches. Decisions are made without consideration for the larger family. If someone in the family unit is sick, no one else will know about it. And even if people did know, they don’t care about the family enough to show concern. Everyone is on their own.

Somewhere in the middle, between this “too much” and “not enough,” is the person and/or family that is able to differentiate between enmeshment and disengagement. They fit into the family unit without sacrificing their individual identity. They understand their place in the family without infringing on their own vision and dreams for themselves. As time changes and people mature, so is the willingness to allow roles in the family to grow and develop as well.

While it’s nearly impossible to impose psychology on people or families in the Bible – we usually don’t have enough information – it’s clear that Jonathan was anything but enmeshed with his father. He was able to separate himself from the paternal negative influence, while seemingly able to maintain a healthy relationship with him. While he never burned his bridges to Saul, he never blindly followed because he was the King or his father. Where he needed to, he challenged his father in his motive with David or in endangering the men around him in battle.

Jonathan models something for us in our families and in our church families. Healthy relationships means we can lean on each other and know that we have the physical, emotional and spiritual support needed to survive a difficult world. We also have the confidence to be ourselves by choosing what is right.

Most families and church families struggle to reach that balance. A lack of trust leads to control issues, rule-making and discouraging any form of free thinking because it’s viewed as a threat. Or in the other extreme boundaries are violated on a regular basis so as no one is emotionally invested in anyone anymore. Neither places are healthy for families or for church families.

Maybe we should take our cues from God and Jesus. Look at the relationship between the two and the freedom with the connection they held together. Then look at the way they related to humanity. They care enough to call and chase after humanity, even pleading for us to come back them. But they never use guilt, coercion or manipulation to dictate the relationship. They always allowed free choice to drive the relationship. Always. It’s harder. It’s messier. But it lies somewhere between “too much” and “not enough.”

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

CHURCH: The Gates of Hades

Peter’s confession of Jesus is a pivotal moment in Matthew’s gospel (Mt. 16:13-20). Prior to the confession, Jesus was tight lipped about his mission. After Peter’s declaration statement, Jesus begins opening up about his suffering and death at the hands of the Jewish religious leaders. Peter’s confession is essential to understanding Jesus’ mission.

Jesus and the twelve find themselves in Gentile territory, named after Augustus Caesar and originally named for the god, Pan. By the time of Jesus, the area retained its tribute name to Caesar but Philip of Macedon is given nod as well. Our Bibles says they were in Caesarea Philippi. Here, in a culture committed to Roman rule and paganism, Jesus pins his twelve disciples down on his identity. Peter’s response, speaking for the others and hopefully for us, is clear and decisive. “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (16:16).

Two statements emerge from Peter’s confession. First, he calls Jesus the Christ. The Greek version of the Hebrew word, Messiah, which carries far more punch. Messiah means, “the Anointed One,” and the Messianic overtones are obvious. Jesus is the coming Messiah whom Scripture predicted and confirmed. Secondly, he calls Jesus, the Son of God. While the phrase has divine implications, Peter underscores that God is a living God, not dead. Thus, Peter’s confession holds both theological and political ramifications: Jesus is the Divine King, not Caesar.

Beyond his prediction that he is headed to Jerusalem to suffer (16:21), Jesus makes statements that have baffled Bible students and scholars for centuries. What is Peter’s role in the development of the church, and why has he been given the keys of the kingdom? What is the meaning of “church”? Is it an assembly or an organization?

The more important question is his mixing of metaphors in regards to the gate (16:18), “. . . and the gates of Hades/hell will not overcome it.” Gates are for defensive purposes and do not for attacking. They mark off territorial boundaries. They intimidate their opponent, stand still and cannot move. How will gates even try to “overcome” God’s church? Also, are these the gates of Hades (NIV) or the gates of hell (KJV)? While Hades was the place of the dead with no evil intent, hell is always associated with a place to punish evil doers. The NIV maintains the Greek, while the KJV interprets Hades as a place of evil. But the “place of the dead” or a “place of death” contextually seems better to understand Matthew 16:18 than a place where evil is punished. The NIV is probably correct with “Hades” because the theme of death begins to unfold.

For the first time in Matthew’s gospel Jesus explicitly tells his twelve disciples about his forthcoming suffering and death in Jerusalem (16:21). When that happens, the story looks to end and the movement will die. Without its shepherd, the people will scatter like sheep. But death will not be the final say with Jesus. He will overcome. While the tomb will be sealed, he’ll break that seal and the stone will roll away. Death will not hold him captive.

As the disciples move forward in a post-ascension world, they will face their own suffering, and each of them, minus John, will be horrifically executed for following Jesus. The church itself will endure the full onslaught of persecution. “Murderous threats” (Act. 9:1) not only sounds ominous, but accurately describe what discipleship meant. The exhortation, “be faithful till death” (Rev. 2:10b) wasn’t a warm fuzzy motto or cheesy bumper sticker, but a stark reminder of the total cost of confessing, “Jesus is Lord.”

Death has a way of not only disrupting our lives, but also disrupting our churches. When someone dies, even of “natural causes,” we question the church’s future and stability. How will we survive without them? How do we move forward without them? In a context of persecution, lives are on the line. Increased anxiety is felt like a 7.5 tremor on the Richter scale. Jesus’ words assure his followers that death will not be the final say in the church’s future. And in a time when so much uncertainty has gripped people in fear, Jesus’ words bring reassurance. Not even the gates of death will overcome his church.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

CHURCH: We’ll Need A Bigger Boat

I’m not much of a sea-faring sailor. I’ve done some waterskiing. Some. I once took a ferry across the Puget Sound on the way to British Columbia (my brother got sea-sick). A family trip once involved boating down the Willamette River from Oregon City to downtown Portland and back again. I can’t say I’ve ever been on the high seas or in a ship. I haven’t even been to the Ark museum.

Though lacking sea-faring experience, like you, I’ve been exposed to many sea-worthy passages in the Bible. A flood of epic proportions is experienced when telling the Noah story. Repentance is themed throughout the rebellious Jonah story (talk about the one that got away!). And Jesus walking on the water like he’s walking across the living room floor is gripping in and of itself.

But one Biblical story has somehow gotten lost in the deluge of sea-worthy stories. The moment takes place in Acts 27 when Paul is making his way to Rome to face a hearing before Caesar. In short, the ship Paul had boarded was secure in a port in Fair Havens on the island of Crete. But the harbor was not suitable for winterizing. The weather had already turned against them, making travel dangerous while delaying their progress. A better harbor in Phoenix was only fifty miles (plus/minus) around Crete. Hovering the shoreline, surely they could reach the port until spring.

Paul, maybe the smartest guy in the room, stood and spoke against that idea (Act. 27:10). But he was neither a sailor nor sea worthy. The captain and owner of the ship ignored his advice and set sails to Phoenix. Then the wheels fell off the train.

What started as a gentle wind turned into hurricane-like conditions (Act. 27:13-14). The storm took hold of the ship and pushed them off course. Way. Off. Course. Two weeks in the open seas forced the 276 people on board to were exposed and at risk. Tackle and other items were thrown overboard to lighten the load. Fear of the storm gave way to fear for running aground and being dashed against the rocks. The ship was all but torn apart.

In the middle of the dangerous chaos, two moments stand out in the Acts 27 narrative. First, Paul warns those wanting to abandon ship will be lost unless they stay on board (27:30-32). Logic and protocol told them to lower lifeboats and get away from the (potentially) sinking vessel. It looked like a losing battle. But the man who warned them against taking the trip to begin with warned them again. “Only those staying with the ship will be saved” (v. 31). In an act of faith, the sailors cut the ropes to the lifeboats and remained on board. True to Paul’s word, no one was lost even though the ship was eventually torn apart.

Secondly, having forsaken their meals for rationed survival, Paul encouraged them to eat in order to renew their strength (v. 33-34). They weren’t out of the storm yet, but were needing nourishment. But as Luke describes the meal, he frames it with Lord’s Supper language, “. . . he took bread and gave thanks to God in front of them all. Then he broke it and began to eat” (v. 35). Obviously, they were not taking the Lord’s Supper, but the Lord was present at this meal because he kept them safe. Thus, the Lord’s Supper hovered over this meal they were eating. And as Luke tells us, “they were all encouraged” (v. 36). 

As I reflect on 2020 and the hurricane-like storm that the church has been enduring, I can’t help but believe that Paul’s words are still ringing true today. First, fear forces us to abandon ship and in this case ship is our local church/congregation. Church is far more than a building; it’s the people who fill that building. We’re connected, bonded and committed to each another. And when we cannot be together in person, the temptation to abandon any connection intensifies. If we’re meeting with social distancing protocols in place, we meet and follow the rules. If we’re only online, then we step into the online presence. But the rest of the week, we check in with our brothers and sisters to ensure they’re still safely aboard for the worst mistake to make is abandoning ship. Let’s ride this storm out, together.

Secondly, stay nourished. As we’re continuing to meet together (in person or online), celebrate the Lord’s Supper and allow it to be the focal point of the assembly. Like attendance, when life gets hard or feelings of failure surface, abandoning the Supper is an easy step to make. Instead, like famished people, we should run to the Table for Jesus makes his presence known at the Supper.

When “all hands are on deck” and “we batten down the hatches,” we’ll find that God will keep us safe and secure through the storm. When others see the presence of God in the midst of this storm, they’ll want to join us. And when they do, we’ll need a bigger boat.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

CHURCH: Rediscovering a Place of Joy

The year was 1975, and my family was finishing a week-long visit with our very best friends on the Oregon Coast. Mike and Dan were my age, and with my brother we had many adventures on a pond, loaded with drift wood, located across the street from their house. We called it “The Frog Pond,” but it smelled a lot worse than dead frogs (rumors had it that someone hid bodies in that place, but we never saw them).  I remember our instructions before we headed across the street, “Don’t get wet in the pond.” Since boys will be boys, we spent most of our time at the “pond” drying our clothes before coming home, as if our moms couldn’t smell the odor.  Just remembering those moments brings a smile across my face. 

On this particular visit, we were returning from our vacation on a Sunday afternoon.  Mark, the two-year-old younger brother came down with a fever, and his parents decided to keep him home from church. I remember how Mark’s reaction reminded me of someone breaking the favorite toy. His heart broke and the tears welled up as he said, “I want to go to church.” The Tillamook Church of Christ boasted of 30 members on Sunday morning. They didn’t have a children’s program, and I’m not even sure who the preacher was. Regardless, little Mark wanted to be at church, and missing that Sunday night broke his heart. 

His teary face burned a lasting image into my brain, and even now looking back, I’m led into wonder; only a child-like faith can be broken for missing church. 

Most church-going Americans appear to have lost the joy in assembling with the saints. A poles-apart perception of church maybe at play with similar results.  While some see church as work, others see it as duty.  While some claim it’s boring, others believe it’s reverent. While some find the hour-long service almost too painful to endure, others have convinced themselves that that is what church is all
about. Both groups miss the mark, and Psalm 122:1 is an ideal never realized, “I rejoiced with those who said to me, ‘Let’s go to the house or the Lord.’” Just because I’ve chosen a profession which places me in the middle of church, doesn’t mean the joy comes any easier; sometimes it’s almost harder. However, recently, I’ve reflected on our assembly time and have rediscovered how church is a place of joy. 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a person, either comes to Jesus for the first time or comes to Jesus again for the first time. Even more joy is discovered when I’ve played some role in moving that person closer to Jesus.   

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever the assembly singing sounds like the singing we’ll experience in heaven. On those Sundays, we can almost see the pearly gates and hear the chorus of angels. Speaking of which, when I hear the voice of a child singing at the top of her lungs, goose bumps break out all over me. 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a member shakes my hand at the door and says, “Your sermon encouraged me,” or “Your sermon spoke to something in my life that I need to change.”

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a toddler pretends that I’m Darth Vader and chases me around the fellowship hall with his “light saber,” or I’m coloring pictures with elementary children while we talk about important stuff like their favorite book, movie, or food, or when a five-year-old rushes into my arms for a hug, only to hear him say, “Hey Preacher. You’re Fired!” 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever we’re led in prayer, and the person praying almost sounds as if he knows God personally. 

I’ve discovered church as a place of joy whenever my “adopted” granddaughter chooses to sit with Cile and me during the worship as she pulls my reading glasses out of my shirt pocket so she can wear them.

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever the teenagers gravitate to my family, as if we’re the “in crowd,” or when older members share with me from their lives as if I’m as respectable as they are.  

While I can’t say I’ve ever been as heartbroken for missing the assembly as little Mark was, I can say I’m looking for more joy nuggets in our assemblies. Those nuggets, sometimes more valuable than the worship time itself, tend to do more to fuel my passion for ministry and for the assembly. When that happens Psalm 122 can link arms with Nehemiah 8:10 and be just as true, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

CHURCH: Rediscovering A Place of Joy

The year was 1975, and my family was finishing a week-long visit with our very best friends on the Oregon Coast. Mike and Dan were my age, and with my brother we had many adventures on a pond, loaded with drift wood, located across the street from their house. We called it “The Frog Pond,” but it smelled a lot worse than dead frogs (rumors had it that someone hid bodies in that place, but we never saw them).  I remember our instructions before we headed across the street, “Don’t get wet in the pond.” Since boys will be boys, we spent most of our time at the “pond” drying our clothes before coming home, as if our moms couldn’t smell the odor.  Just remembering those moments brings a smile across my face. 

On this particular visit, we were returning from our vacation on a Sunday afternoon.  Mark, the two-year-old younger brother came down with a fever, and his parents decided to keep him home from church. I remember how Mark’s reaction reminded me of someone breaking the favorite toy. His heart broke and the tears welled up as he said, “I want to go to church.” The Tillamook Church of Christ boasted of 30 members on Sunday morning. They didn’t have a children’s program, and I’m not even sure who the preacher was. Regardless, little Mark wanted to be at church, and missing that Sunday night broke his heart. 

His teary face burned a lasting image into my brain, and even now looking back, I’m led into wonder; only a child-like faith can be broken for missing church. 

Most church-going Americans appear to have lost the joy in assembling with the saints. A poles-apart perception of church maybe at play with similar results.  While some see church as work, others see it as duty.  While some claim it’s boring, others believe it’s reverent. While some find the hour-long service almost too painful to endure, others have convinced themselves that that is what church is all
about. Both groups miss the mark, and Psalm 122:1 is an ideal never realized, “I rejoiced with those who said to me, ‘Let’s go to the house or the Lord.’” Just because I’ve chosen a profession which places me in the middle of church, doesn’t mean the joy comes any easier; sometimes it’s almost harder. However, recently, I’ve reflected on our assembly time and have rediscovered how church is a place of joy. 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a person, either comes to Jesus for the first time or comes to Jesus again for the first time. Even more joy is discovered when I’ve played some role in moving that person closer to Jesus.    

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever the assembly singing sounds like the singing we’ll experience in heaven. On those Sundays, we can almost see the pearly gates and hear the chorus of angels. Speaking of which, when I hear the voice of a child singing at the top of her lungs, goose bumps break out all over me. 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a member shakes my hand at the door and says, “Your sermon encouraged me,” or “Your sermon spoke to something in my life that I need to change.”

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever a toddler pretends that I’m Darth Vader and chases me around the fellowship hall with his “light saber,” or I’m coloring pictures with elementary children while we talk about important stuff like their favorite book, movie, or food, or when a five-year-old rushes into my arms for a hug, only to hear him say, “Hey Preacher. You’re Fired!” 

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever we’re led in prayer, and the person praying almost sounds as if he knows God personally. 

I’ve discovered church as a place of joy whenever my “adopted” granddaughter chooses to sit with Cile and me during the worship as she pulls my reading glasses out of my shirt pocket so she can wear them.

I’ve rediscovered church as a place of joy whenever the teenagers gravitate to my family, as if we’re the “in crowd,” or when older members share with me from their lives as if I’m as respectable as they are.  

While I can’t say I’ve ever been as heartbroken for missing the assembly as little Mark was, I can say I’m looking for more joy nuggets in our assemblies. Those nuggets, sometimes more valuable than the worship time itself, tend to do more to fuel my passion for ministry and for the assembly. When that happens Psalm 122 can link arms with Nehemiah 8:10 and be just as true, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Posted on

Parenting from the Pew

Watching your children sleeping, seeing their faces light up when they open Christmas presents, and being the recipient of their unconditional love only touches the hem of joy a parent experiences. Cleaning up after a sick child, teaching them boundaries and correcting behavior tends to elevate the stress and the blood pressure in a parent’s life. Where we’d like to say that church attendance falls under the first category, the truth is it manages to fall under the latter category. 

The worship service promises an uplifting experience; the saved are gathered, they commune at the Supper, songs fill the building with hope, and friends call each other “brother” and “sister.” Still, we rarely check our problems and struggles at the door. The burdens from the work-week are carried over into church. The loved one is still sick. COVID hovers over everything like a black cloud. The family arguments do not magically dissolve in the parking-lot. And children will challenge parental authority, even at church (e.g., try explaining to a two or three-year-old why they cannot have the “cracker” mommy and daddy are eating). Thus, the promise of an uplifting experience often dissipates into a frustrating, painful hour. 

All of us as parents have experienced such frustrations. They seem to begin before leaving home as we try to feed, dress, and get the children ready for church; no doubt, the new outfit will have a spill on it before walking out the door. The worship hour seems ill-spent as the time is consumed keeping the children silent, still, and satisfied. Walking through the church doors is often filled with discouraging thoughts, wondering what was accomplished. And who experiences a meaningful time at the Lord’s Supper while trying to keep the children calm and subdued? 

Sometimes we need to be reminded of the good we’re doing as parents. Perspective can help us view the situation differently or at least positively. But offering advice is like the young minister without children preaching a sermon entitled The 10 Commandments for Parenting. When he and his wife started a family, he changed the sermon to The 10 Suggestions for Parenting. And when his children reached the teenage years, he threw the sermon into the trash. Raising children is hard work with plenty of setbacks. With no manual in hand, easy answers do not exist.

Find peace in God’s grace. Few children will be the twelve year-old Jesus lost in Jerusalem only to be found at the temple. Actually most will push for their own identity while pressing the boundaries parents have set. It’s normal. Remember, if God were the “parent” for Adam and Eve, even he struggled to keep his “children” in line. So we continue shaping and molding their character by pointing them to Jesus.

Connect the dots between church and home. What happens at church needs further teaching, discussion and reinforcement at home. Both what they studied in Bible class and what the preacher talked about in the sermon are easy points of spiritual engagement, even for children. Parents and children praying together with reading or sharing a Bible story creates a spiritual bond. Frame life’s teaching moments as living for God, much like in Deuteronomy 6:7-9. Possibly the two worst approaches are parents saying nothing about God or church in the home, and the parents who say disparaging words in front of the children about church. Both are spiritual killers.

Children spot the hypocrisy. It doesn’t take long for them to see how much or how little Christ means to their parents. A child was once sitting next to his father during the sermon, having an epiphany, turned to him and said, “Hey Dad! He’s talking about you.” All parents have that moment. The child spots the inconsistency and innocently draws attention to the parents’ flaw. The real question is, what happens next?

“People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.’’ (Mk. 10:13-14)

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)