I Think We're Out of Our Minds

Church these days is replete with people (leaders and thinkers) who are looking at church culture and saying, "Ditch it. This doesn't look anything like Jesus ministry and I can't see what the point is when we get together every week for these same-old same-old activities -- sing songs, listen to teaching, have communion, etc." But I think we're out of our minds. First of all, just to clear this up because I think it appears in this blog, I've used the "doesn't look like Jesus ministry" argument myself in regard to the Roman Catholics, but I use it to question the RC claim of authority over the rest of us, not to question its validity in itself. Secondly, those who attempt to ditch a culture are really attempting to replace one culture with another. I hope they're doing it out of a genuine vision of something new. But I doubt it. The blogs on this topic don't give me any hope of it anyway. The practicalities of doing church at all over some 2000 years have brought us to this point and the result is before us. Hey, I've seen culture changes before. I go to a Vineyard, one of the biggest agents for culture change in the larger evangelical church of recent times. God was mightily with the Vineyard back when I first came, and I thought one of the reasons for his presence was the brand new culture. But now I'm convinced I was wrong. It was more like God was mightily with the Vineyard and that, as a by-product, powered the culture change. Because of God's presence we embraced the new models. But we really left our old churches because they had a missing ingredient. The evident and mighty activity of the Holy Spirit. This is the same missing ingredient in the churches of today, even in the Vineyard I am part of. That's why we're all questioning church culture -- when we should be crying out for revival...

Revival is like...

Revival is like a pot to which God is adding special and unique ingredients and stirring in response to our prayers. Sometimes he stirs a bit harder and a bit spills down on us and we get a taste of what's in store. Hopefully that will make us want to pray more so that God will at the right time have a free hand to dump the whole thing on us. ("Showers of blessing, showers of blessing we need, mercy drops on us are falling, but for the showers we plead!")

Similarly, praying for revival is like taking turns hitting at a piñata at a party. You know the thing can't last forever, and you're hoping it's your swing that will bust it open. As the piñata starts to weaken, a few goodies sneak out of the cracks and anticipation mounts. Soon, soon, soon what we pray for will come. ("Jesus told them [the parable of the widow and the judge] to teach his disciples to always pray and NEVER GIVE UP!")

One morning I woke up in a fighting mood...

... and thought John Lennon should not have the last word on what to imagine.

Imagine Jesus coming
It’s easy if you try
Come with hosts of heaven
Filling up the sky
Imagine all the people
Living for that day

Imagine we’re in Heaven
It's not so hard to see
Evil forever conquered
The world forever free
Imagine all the people
Walking in his ways

Imagine there's revival
It isn't hard to do
Healing and compassion
And true repentance too
Imagine all the people
Seeking first the king

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine we can see Him
I wonder if you can
Give him all the Glory
The Righteous Son of man
Imagine all the people
Worshiping his name

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

The Apostles and then...

Brad Jersak, in his book Her Gates Shall Never be Shut has brings forward an interesting critique of 'Infernalism' as he names the belief, very common in the Christian circles in which I have been raised and still move, that all the unregenerate are destined for Hell, a burning and eternal hell. One of the aspects of that critique is a reference to that toweringly influential church thinker, St. Augustine. He says that very likely our belief in that Hell stems from a pastoral motivation on the part of the saint, who desired that no wrong liver should see any 'out,' so to speak, except through the grace of Jesus and the obedience to his church. Or something along those lines. (I may check out the actual quote later to be more precise.)

Whether you agree with Brad on this point or not, what he says about Augustine brings up a very interesting aspect to church doctrine that I've not till now properly examined. Are there doctrines that are merely put in place to avoid any further debate in that quarter? Doctrines that smack more or less of, "Don't raise that issue again! It's too dangerous to think about." --and from a pastoral point of view-- "Think of all the people who might fall into confusion if you ask a question like that!"

Well again and again, I have just such a question in mind. What about the canon of New Testament? To 'solve' this question from, I hope, a pastoral point of view, doctrines like Inerrancy have sprung up, trying to head off any inquiry before it actually happens. But I do inquire. From what does the authority of the New Testament come? Roman Catholics have a simple answer that makes sense from Jesus own commissioning of the apostles. It stems from the authority of the church that decreed that such a canon should be. It was the church's idea and why not? Certainly at no time did Jesus predict the existence of a book that would come after him. But it's a possible and legitimate invention of the young church to meet a need they had. Makes sense. Might I add that the needs that produced such an invention have not gone away. 2000 plus years after the events in the New Testament, we need a written memory of our origins even more than the church which preserved it for us.

Protestants on the other hand have to defend sola scriptura to the high heavens, because they fear that without it, they can't have the Reformation. If they admit that the church's authority created the New Testament, they fear that they have to accept everything else in the Roman Church. (Why they don't may be the subject of another post.) And so they make some passages truly walk on all fours, especially the the "All scripture is inspired" passage and other ones -- check out this-- in their attempt to make the New Testament teach us of its own necessary existence. I find it very interesting that as you read some of the articles defending this stance that they seem to indicate that Jesus' words to the apostles -- the whole church at that time-- should be only for them --"the Spirit will guide you into all truth"-- whereas specific instructions by apostles to specific churches would be universally applicable to all believers. Does anyone see any irony there? I also find that some of the arguments lame because they seem to assume a backdrop of "God will never speak to us again."

But Jesus promised the Spirit. He never promised the New Testament. That alone should give us pause. Furthermore if you defend the New Testament's existence based on the tradition of the 'scriptures' of 2 Tim 3:16, that is, the Old Testament, watch out. Among the affirmations of the Old Testament, and Jesus does affirm it, Jesus also warns, "You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life... but you are unwilling to come to me and have life." Kind of calls into question that old gospel song "Beautiful Words, Wonderful Words, Wonderful Words of Life..." don't you think?

Pondering the above by a circuitous route brings me around to what I think is an even deeper question which both the Protestants and Catholics must give account. Where are the real successors to the Apostles? To answer Catholics present the Church, by which ultimately is meant the hierarchy all the way up to the Pope. But I still say, what about any part of Jesus ministry or teaching foreshadows that? Protestants present the New Testament. It's rather like Sikhism. A succession of ten gurus and the last one gives them a book as their guru. Taking that view in the church makes it feel rather like all the good stuff has already happened. I just don't think that's a good basis on which to proceed. So no, I can't accept that either.

I wonder however whether God himself in all of his church, the whole body, of whatever stripe, isn't simply enough. What if the body of Christ is the intended successor to the apostles? I know we need the New Testament. But it's not Jesus, and it's not the Holy Spirit. It's a historical source which gives us a truthful story of Jesus and the working papers of the young church. And yes it's inspired by the Holy Spirit. But not in some exclusive way. The revelation and inspiration weren't supposed to stop and you can't really make anything in the New Testament say so. More important than the words of the New Testament is the example of Jesus and the Apostles. Instead of revering their words, we need to do as they did. Dangerous as it may seem, we are the successors to the apostles, and with fear and trembling we have to listen to God and walk in the power of the Holy Spirit now so the story can continue.

The Church -- it's not over yet...

I've been thinking a lot about revival recently. A number of dear friends have written off the 'institutional' church as a thing of the past, and it bothers me. Even with all of my orneriness I can't go that far. Why not? I've been thinking about it and it comes to this. A history of revivals will quickly reveal that when God moves mightily in a culture, where do the people do? They go... to church. The prodigals come home, the new believers make it their new home and the church is renewed in the process. And guess what, against all of our counter-culturism, (some of it expressed in this very blog) the church doesn't change in essentials too much. It merely is re-strengthened to withstand the depredations and bewilderments of the next cultural shift. Take the Jesus people for example. God moves among the hippies. Boy-oh-boy, what fertile ground for a brand new type of church, a culturally relevant church, a cool church... Oops, sorry, where'd they all go? They went to local churches and filled up the traditional services and apparently couldn't get enough of it. Even the churches they started have become part of the larger organized church -- another denomination. And you can't say that they were seduced or anything like that. When God's Spirit is moving in unchurched people it's a bit like the cows hitched to the cart of the ark of the covenant in I Samuel. You just watch and see where God will take them. If they go somewhere surprising, it's very significant.

So I've become convinced again that the church is God's plan. His only plan. If he comes in like a mighty wind to bring revival to the world, the results of that revival will come to church. And probably it won't be some counter-cultural movement of house churches or anything. They will fill our vacant sanctuaries and we will not know what to do with them. And the best thing we can do is pray for that event.

Because it's time. It's time for quantity again. Quality alone is not going to do it for us. Quality will dwindle and die without quantity. It's time to pray for churches full of disciples, all in right relationship with God and each other, disciples who love and follow Jesus with all their hearts, filled with the Holy Spirit such that they shake the world every time they get together. This is where my pilgrimage has taken me.

And we really can't tweak the church too much in advance of that. Guess what, if millions come, the work that we thousands have done to remake the the church after some pattern that is more appealing to us will be swept away because it's whatever the millions want that will happen. Will it be God laughing at us? Maybe. Are we willing to lay down our cherished issues for the coming of the kingdom?

On being 'in'

Once upon a time, in another church, in another life, long ago, I was 'in.' I could call up the pastor, have coffee and discuss issues I thought were important and I was listened to. I also had the respect of other leaders besides the pastor. And yes it was a small church. But I was valued for my contribution. Or maybe, to avoid being performance oriented, I should say my contributions were valued. I might touch on that later. Some of my early ministry opportunities even arose from such encounters. "Can I do this thing that's on my heart to do?" "Okay, let's see how you do."

A blissful experience of connection. But it didn't last. You see, we moved away. Moved to different area, and moved our membership to a big, famous, church. In the new church, although many other things were very much to my liking, I was a mere number, an unimportant peon, an eternal trainee and very much disconnected from the leadership of the church. Moreover, we were pretty frequently told from the pulpit, that there was no way to get to the inner circle because, and how simple a solution to this perennial problem, there was no 'in.' I knew that for our then pastor to say such a thing, he had to be lying, especially to himself. Anyone with half a brain could easily have told him different, and could have easily told him who was 'in' and who was out. But there truly was no way to tell him. You just couldn't. Since then we have gone through other pastors, and it was largely the same. One fellow had the talent of making me think he cared what I said while among his inner circle, I found later, he expressly excluded me.

It's been a frustrating experience. Some of the frustration, I'm sure, has come out in some of my earlier posts on this blog. So why do I write about this now? Well suddenly and quite surprisingly, I have found that I am now 'in.' Same church (somewhat smaller) about twenty years later, and my ideas and issues are actually being listened to. I find that I can have enjoyable and substantive discussions with (we don't have a pastor at this time) probably our main decision maker and he seems to really listen. I know this because other friends of his are my close friends as well. I'd actually forgotten what it felt like. I came home from having 'coffee' (steamed milk, plain, actually-- coffee turns my stomach) with him and said to my wife that the last time I felt like that was twenty years ago at the church I mentioned at the beginning of this post.

So how does one respond to being 'in?' I'm not exactly sure. I've had so much practise speaking from the outside, seeing objectively and subjectively the effect of the gatekeepers, the ones who systemically slam the door in the face of any wannabe interloper, the necessity of real process for new people to be involved in ministry -- a process not based on mere relational connection to the leaders, and other stuff that the outsider sees but the insider typically ignores. The insider doesn't see any of those issues, because he's past that. He's earned his place, through merit, talent, anointing (one spiritual elitist I have known, liked the phrase 'government on you') or some such, and others just plain need to let go and let God take them from a place of "hiddenness" to a place of "revelation" in his own time. Because, you see, there's a whole teaching that supports this dichotomy, a spiritualized justification for shutting the door and protecting the inner circle from the outsiders. (I'm not going to expound upon it right now. If you've heard this stuff, you'll know) The insiders will smugly teach it and the outsiders will either grit their teeth and know it for what it is, or accept their role as the aforementioned eternal trainees, the quintessential sheep...

See how good I am at being an outsider? But I have no idea how to be an insider. It's been so long.

Experimental Experience

There are so many things in this world and in the kingdom that you can't know about until you do them. Right now I'm learning (again) that praying earnestly and regularly for that which is reasonably impossible benefits me on the inside in incalculable ways. And I can't say much more about it, except, "try it, you'll like it."