For God's Sake, Let Me Help!

Self-congratulations on my first blog entry that’s entitled by a quote from Star Trek’s Dr. Leonard McCoy! In my defense, this was already a working title before I connected it with my Trekkie past. And such phrases have been used as titles before (see D. A. Carson’s book For the Love of God).

But I digress.

True story (but with names/places changed): A middle-aged couple, Wes and Kim, once leaders of a church plant in Seattle, had relocated to Baltimore. Wes now worked at a factory to support Kim and their teenaged children, but they still found ways to use the spiritual and ministerial gifts God had given them by serving in a growing church plant there in the Baltimore area.

Then their marriage hit a storm. They stopped coming to church. They slept in separate rooms, sometimes even separate houses. Mike, a pastor at the church plant who had been counseling them, couldn’t believe that Wes, a former pastor himself, would say such things about his own wife. Nonetheless, the small church plant came around Wes and Kim, prayed for them and helped them to reconcile.

A few months after the ripples of the struggles had settled, Wes and Kim wanted to, respectfully, leave the church plant’s fellowship and serve somewhere else. It wasn’t disappointment in the church plant’s community, services or even philosophy. With a renewed passion for their marriage, they wanted to “start afresh” in a new church family elsewhere. After all, this little church plant family had seen Wes and Kim at their worst, weakest and most vulnerable state, having helped them through their potential separation.

It’s interesting, because Mike thought that reasoning is exactly why they should stay at the church plant.

Wes and Kim remind me of a lot of Christians today that developed a talent for cover-ups. Whether it’s a sin they’re honestly struggling with, a travesty or an impairment, they strive for self-sufficiency and the impression that they’re doing just fine. Seems somewhat selfless, doesn’t it? Nobody wants to be a burden, and there’s probably bigger problems to deal with, right?

How much of such an effort is made out of pride?

We like to be seen as self-sufficient and professional, which isn’t surprising in a country that celebrates independence. In the Church, this cultural mentality has to collide with the Christian truth that all have sinned, making the congregation a mixed group of broken, dependent, needy people. This is exactly why the Church’s fellowship exists (Acts 4): to provide for the needy (spiritually, financially, everything) through God’s blessings.

The popular hymn “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” reflects on Phil. 4:6, and it goes into great detail about the “peace we forfeit” and the “pain we needlessly bear” because we do not pray. The popular three stanzas don’t address that the verse from Philippians encourages prayer and petition. If you have been blessed with the fellowship of a church that has offered to bear some of your burdens, please take them up on their offers. It helps you. It helps them. It gives glory to God.

I struggle with this, too, sometimes. When I’m sick, I tend to isolate myself from the family and sleep it off, get better on my own. I tell myself and my wife that I might be contagious and don’t want to be a burden, but it’s ultimately pride and manhood that I’m trying to prove. I needed help. I had to swallow a lot of pride, having a masters degree and a family of 4, to acknowledge, both to myself and to my in-laws, that I can’t financially afford to support my family right now . . . and I needed help.

Do you need help? Be honest. Has someone offered to help? Take them up on it.

Five Things American Christians Can Do Out of Love for Their Country

I’ll admit it. I do love my country. There’s a lot to admire about the vision upon which it was founded. Amenities are enjoyable, and we’ve got a lot of great scenery here. However, I’m working on myself right now to love my country with a different and higher type of love, and not a shallow, obsessive, nostalgic, or conditional type of love I can be tempted to have.

    The biblical model of love, as described in 1 Cor. 13 and lived out by Christ and the Church’s founding fathers, is a powerful and selfless catalyst, and a willing martyr. I’ve been thinking a lot about true biblical living, and if I’m doing it. 

    Going deeper into the quotable basics of the Great Commission and the command to love your neighbor, here’s five things (of many more I can’t produce right now) Christians can do out of love for their country, but often don’t. 

5. Be a steward of your local environment. (Psalm 24:1) During Al Gore’s global
warming campaign and the release of the movie Inconvenient Truth, I participated in some online debates with peers. By no means am I qualified or planning to open up that can of worms here, but I found one knee-jerk argument disturbing.

    One Christian put forth the logic that, since God created the world (true), placed humanity to rule the world (true) and the world will be destroyed later anyway (true, depending on your view of eschatology and etymology), our treatment of the world is ultimately irrelevant. We can trash it.

    Where this logic fails is that Scripture doesn’t allow that type of logic when applied to how we treat our own bodies or our own money and possessions, even though all those are also temporal. The call to stewardship flows through Scripture, pertaining to the environment, our bodies, money, belongings and everything that was given to us to rule over.

    So please, invest in “green” and energy-saving technology on occasion. See what fruits and flowers can grow in your yard. Adopt a road. Recycle when you can, and don’t instantly scoff at every climatologist and environmentalist campaign. God made this planet for us, so let’s not make it look like we’re putting up our feet on the coffee table. 

4. Support ethical businesses. (1 Cor. 15:33) We can talk endlessly about the “rat
race” that exists in America, and how people sacrifice healthful sleep, family relations and even their own values to get a higher income. I think, however, the same thing happens when we (even though we’re not looking for higher incomes), look for lower prices or a “steal.”

    Media piracy, for example, can contribute to job loss in Hollywood for the people that aren’t rolling in the dough. Other businesses may have made some unsupportable compromises to bring that price down for your convenience (e.g. child labor, malpractice in outsourcing, general unfairness to employees, etc.). We are a deprived species, so no business is morally flawless.

    Nonetheless, I’ve been striving to research what are the more ethical businesses, and I shop every week at the local farmer’s market (which also helps support the local economy). This is more for my sake than the unethical businesses (small boycotts alone won’t stop corporate greed), because I want to know that the money that I’ve been entrusted is being used in ways that reflect the values of the Giver, and I want to encourage the businesses out there that haven’t made huge ethical compromises to the way they do business.

    Won’t that be a bit more costly? Well, such is the Christian life. All-around. 

3. Help the sick, poor and the oppressed. (Gal. 2:10, Jas. 1:27) My favorite undertone in the foundation of my home country is the preset that “all men (gender-inclusive) are created equal.” (This sentence was written despite the African slave trade being a hypocritical eyesore, which would be addressed later).

    The pre-Constantine church in Rome, likewise, affirmed the God-given value of human life. They were a voice against abortion, infanticide, misogynist attitudes (which were extreme back then). They were also a voice against the activities of the coliseum, where slaves, criminals, and even Christians themselves were brutally killed for mass entertainment.

    As much as our government today strives to uphold its founding ideal, I’m sure we can name people that are (wrongfully) considered insignificant. It’s a biblical mandate to care for the needy, whether through hospitality, giving and emotional support.

    I remember that the Good Samaritan, upon seeing a ransacked man, almost dead, lying on the side of the road, didn’t hesitate with any self-questions (e.g. was this man’s suffering just? Is this man righteous? Will he exploit my help?). He just saw it as a simple axiom: hurt needs help. Jesus deemed the Samaritan a good neighbor. Let’s strive to be good neighbors to our hurting region. No matter the source or reason for a sickness, impoverishment, grief or oppression, persecution or harmful neglect are not what Christians, who believe in the value and dignity of human life, should stand for.

    Invest in good charitable organizations. Buy from or donate to (without trying to get some money on Craig’s List first, like I used to do) the local thrift store. Generously tip the servers and all employees that make an effort.  If you want to be more involved, volunteer at a soup kitchen or charitable organization. Share your resources.

    In the church of the book of Acts, most were poor, but there was “not one needy among them (4:35)” as they gave to the poor on a regular basis (2:45). 

2. Give the government its owed taxes, honor, respect and prayerful support.
Peter and Paul had plenty of general disagreements with the government. After all, the Roman empire was a haven for what Christians (rightfully, I’ll add) consider vice. Prostitution and infanticide were rampant, and many of the citizens either devoted themselves to a certain other religion or sought out a more intellectual form of atheist wisdom. All the while, the corrupt (and often mentally ill) emperors either idly stood by or even encouraged the imprisonment, torture and death of Christians in particular.

    Yet, Paul (from prison) and Peter both write to us, admonishing us to submit to the law, honor and respect governmental authority, and even pray for the emperor and all those in authority (and I don’t think they meant to pray for their impeachment or death). This is not so much because of the minute fistful of respectable aspects of their government, but because they believed God is sovereign, and that He had placed them in authority (Romans 13:1).

    The founders of the Church had no political stake, so their response (a very effective one, I should add) to the failures of the government and the decay of morality and justice was action, namely evangelism and charity, which served as a catalyst (both earthly and spiritual) for many. Sure, the Church did speak against the government’s ways (as the Manhattan Declaration points out), but it was not their voice that defined them, which brings me to the last point.
  
1. Do more than just voice your values. Live them. I remember my 8th grade history teacher trying to illustrate the concept of democracy. He compared the government to a computer, saying that our government’s functions and services, in theory, was only to be utilized at our will. Political leanings aside, I look at history and am an inspired believer in church empowerment. Simply put, the Church shouldn’t need government stake or assistance to do anything.

    I was once privileged to be a part of a mature church plant in the Philadelphia area. I worked at a coffeehouse to make some more cash and pitch proverbial tents. The church I served was creatively charitable during the holidays. They served Thanksgiving dinners to low-income families. They threw a Christmas Eve service at a homeless shelter. They regularly built for Habitat for Humanity. These were all much more intriguing to my co-workers than any lavish musical production that the larger churches were offering.


    Give financial support or volunteer at either a crisis pregnancy center or a child and family association. Help shelter and encourage a brave newly pregnant girl from judgment and difficulty. Consider adoption of an abandoned child. We could reiterate point 3 here, too. 

    It’s one thing to voice truth and values. It’s another to selflessly live them. We can better be Christ’s voice when we’re also His Hands and Feet.

The Prosperous Gospel: Thoughts on More Biblical Aspirations

I was fired, and I was desperate to get a new job. But this wasn’t the right place.

It was one of the most depressing summers I had gone through. I was a college student at a respected university, home for the summer, but I had ended the school year with a low (and I mean low) GPA in a school where there’s sometimes pressure to “excel for God.” A good colleague had just died from a cliff-hiking accident. I had gotten fired from my first summer job, and I was having a lot of heated arguments with my parents, who continually encouraged me to get a job, continually reading the classifieds and looking to take almost any job.

Including this one. I sat in a motel’s conference room with a very mixed group from all sorts of qualifications and income levels as we listened to a suave and witty man in a suit attempted to give motivational speeches about how your life could change if you join the team that sells air filters. Whenever someone from the class ever admitted any self-doubt to the task, the aforementioned sales trainer would then tell an inspirational “little-engine-that-could” story. The topper of these stories was about how a blind man used his salesmanship and diligence to climb the ladder of so-called success, best described by the opulence of his new house, which apparently featured motion-sensor water fountains along the front sidewalk. It was a flamboyant, almost kitsch-like, example of a textbook “rags-to-riches” story.

The first day and 8 hours of training left me with a jittering headache and a little bit of nausea as I drove my little brother to junior high youth group that night. I resigned from the job training the next day.

I’m not meaning to put salesman down (I worked as a telemarketer for 2 years), and I don’t want to discourage anyone’s perseverance in their career. It’s just that I can’t help notice the tendency of inspirational stories to lean toward financial blessing as the goal, and it’s spilled into churches‘ stories.

From the southeast coast to the northern California, I’ve heard some pretty cool stories about how churches grow from a a fistful of families in a Bible study into a resourced megachurch. Willow Creek, for example, is named after the movie theater its founders first rented to hold their church services in 1975. Now they are a multi-campus church (their home facility has about 24,000 weekly attendants) and an association with worldwide influence and resource. Harvest Bible Chapel went from 18 people meeting in a high school to nationwide church planting.

I’m not putting down these ministries. I have friends in the leadership of both of them and my wife and I have regularly attended their worship services in the past. My main question is to ask, when one reads a story like that, how do you define the “success”? Is it the financial stability or even overflow? Is it the attendance numbers? The recognition?

It shouldn’t be.

The pre-Constantine church in Rome had its members (not merely idle “attendants”) grow like wildfire. They didn’t have the money or political stake for a larger facility, so they delegated more leadership and found more houses volunteered to hold their gatherings. To the outside world, there were countless misconceptions floating around, as biblical teaching was being confused with Jewish sects, Gnosticism and even cannibalism. But to those who knew the church’s people, it was a community of loving, sharing and joy, a voice for the oppressed women, the unwanted unborn, the sick and the poor, and individuals willing to die for the Truth they proclaim. They had no opportunity to rely on political stake, an overflow of wealth or a respectable reputation. Nonetheless, lives where changed, and the family grew.

So, it wasn’t so much rags to riches, but to flourishing.

As a church in the West, we’re challenged to look beyond our culture’s views of success as defined by reputation, popularity and wealth to a different kind of prosperity. God loves small beginnings (Job 8:7, Zechariah 4:10) but looks for a different type of ending. In the Christian’s mind, King David should not be remembered for his wealth (Solomon was richer, but considered it meaningless) or his military aggression (Saul was arguably more violent, but he disregarded God), but instead for his heart: a heart that sincerely followed after God and His will.

As we daily review our checkbooks, let’s continue to keep’s God’s will at heart, and see what He can make flourish.

Where I Stand: If Minnesota Doesn’t Want the Vikings, They Shouldn’t Have Them.

Yes, I am a Minnesota Vikings fan, generational and nomadic, with no roots in the state of Minnesota. And yes, it’s been a rough year. More than my rival team fans can actually imagine.

I moved my family to eastern Wisconsin, home of the Vikings’ embittered rival Packers, during the debacle that was the 2010 season. The season that started off with Super Bowl aspirations, but ended with ten humiliating defeats, a scandalized quarterback, a fired coach and a collapsed stadium. Oh, and the Packers won the Super Bowl. Their fans, whom I live around, still have happy circle dances around me. My life is daily and lonely martyrdom.

On top of that, there’s still the chance that the Vikings won’t make any headway through Minnesota’s government to build a new stadium in the metropolitan area, potentially leaving their 30-year-old shack for the shiny new stadium . . . in Los Angeles.

So yeah, it’s been a rough year.

What’s happening with the stadium?  It’s complicated and embarrassing. The Vikings, as their vice president would confirm, have done everything the state has asked for approval, and things have largely been looking good for a new stadium to be built in the nearby suburb of Arden Hills. However, opposition has risen, both from Viking haters and fans alike. Haters don’t realize the cost of losing a profitable NFL team. Some Viking fans don’t want to pay the cost (a small tax increase?) of keeping them. This opposition (even though some of it wants the Vikings in Minnesota) could certainly hinder the stadium bill.

My thoughts? If Minnesota doesn’t want the Vikings, then they shouldn’t have them.

My late father found the Vikings during his grade school years in Duluth. He carried his fan-hood to eastern Tennessee, to Chicago, and then to Dallas before he passed it to me. I, then, carried it back to Chicago, then to Iowa, Philadelphia and now, Wisconsin. Only on occasion have I been able to visit the Vikings’ home state and attend their games. Though I’m a proud part-Scandinavian, I’ve always liked Minnesota because of the Vikings, not the other way around. This does set me apart from Viking fans who, upon the team’s departure from the state, would sell their memorabilia on eBay.

So, if the Vikings are no longer in Minnesota, where does that put me? It’s a good question.

I have many Packer friends who are hermit-Wisconsinites, and they, trying to convert me (as they have succeeded with other newcomers), have asked what it would take for me to become a Packer fan. I replied, “If the Vikings and the Chicago Bears ceased to exist, then maybe I’ll consider.” (Some close friend Bear fans rather suggested I become a Detroit Lions fan first). I do also have friends from the east coast who are Indianapolis Colts fans, following the Colts since they left Baltimore, surprisingly not cheering for the Ravens. And I don't even want to scratch the surface of loyalty issues in Ohio.

So, which route should I take? If the Vikings become Los Angeles’s team and keep their name (how much Scandinavian heritage is in southern California?), should I follow? Should I wait for the state of Minnesota to realize their error and build another football team in a few decades (like they did with other teams)? Or should I consider the Vikings and my generational fan-hood a retired cause and honor the rest of my Chicago roots, becoming a full-blooded Bear fan?

Time will tell, but I’d rather not consider any of those options.

Counting the Cost: Life, Death, and the Cross to Bear

I’ll admit it. I still have a tendency, in my mind, not to truly count costs. My wife will sometimes point out that I’m a bit optimistic about how much we will have to pay for something (e.g. a trip, a new appliance, etc.). But I’m also working on my ability to count the cost of what my Christian (literally “little-Christ”) life entails, and what it will entail in the future.

I’ve been very sadly reminded of this thought because there are a lot of heavy hearts both in my church and my family right now, as (I’m sticking with the analogy) we’re looking at many very big bills. With teary eyes, we’re looking at a lot of loss in the near future. These circumstances have led my wayward self back to seeking God’s Truth for hope and comfort. Like an icy hot balm on a bad burn, my journey has been both assuring and challenging.

There’s two things I’m striving to remember.

1) Death is an enemy that God will, quite passionately, defeat (Ezekiel 18:32, 1 Corinthians 15:26).

John 11 tells us the story of Lazarus’s resurrection. It’s an interesting chapter as it contains, in most versions, the shortest verse in the Bible (v.35, “Jesus wept”). This has caused the occasional question as to why Jesus is weeping. Was it sad disappointment in a lack of faith by Lazarus’s family members? Was it mere shared grief, even though Jesus planned to soon raise Lazarus from the dead? Most versions don’t quite give justice to verses 33 and 38, which help us understand why Jesus was weeping.

Keep in mind that funerals of the Ancient Near East are far from the quieter and “professional” ceremonies we have here in the modern West, where you can barely hear more than a sniffle. If the immediate family makes it through a ceremony without crying, some may say that they are “taking it well.” It was quite the opposite for Lazarus’s burial. They don’t hold back. Loud mourning and wailing is accepted, even encouraged. Sometimes there are even hired mourners, I imagine, to lead people in mourning as would someone in a corporate worship experience.

According to the original Greek of verses 33 and 38, Jesus was not merely “deeply moved.” He was outraged. So, Jesus’s aura at the burial was a combination of rage and weeping. Why?

Because death is not what he wants for his children.

Death, as Jesus could painfully and angrily see, was reigning with explicit gloom and despair all around that burial site. And Jesus conquered it.

Death is one thing that only God can conquer, and he has more reasons and authority to do so than anyone. I sometimes forget this. I complain to God about a certain person’s passing or loss, feeling as if it was wrongful or ill-timed, appealing to God as if he doesn’t quite understand the significance of a certain factor or issue, or as if he doesn’t quite have the full perspective (or at least my perspective) as he lets tragic things happen in this world. What? Am I crazy? I can easily hear him say, “You think I don’t know?”

Another significant verse in John 11 is verse 25, where Jesus gently tells a grieving Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life.” God is life, eternal, and that’s what he wants for all his children, and he has conquered death. As much as there’s been talk in recent theological and church circles about how the “full life” Jesus brought begins on earth, we need to remember that all the sufferings (and all the righteous pleasures) of this planet can’t compare to the eternal afterlife God wants to lovingly give his children, which brought me to the next point.

2) This world is not meant for us, so our lives will involve sacrifice and suffering (John 15:19, Romans 8:17).

I recently sat in on a conference where Phil Vischer, the creator of VeggieTales, made a point about the inherent suffering of the Christian life, exploring the true meaning of the cliche “taking up one’s cross,” a phrase found in three of the four Gospels.

“If you’re a 21st century Illinoisan, you respond, ‘Okay, I’ve got my cross. Where are we going?’ If you’re a 1st century Palestinian, you know exactly where you’re going. You’re going to die.”

The world hates Christians, and we’re also in the crosshairs of the demons who, as with Job, seek to sadistically disprove God in your mind and disprove you, by whatever means necessary. 

Our very Savior was a commoner who was framed and brutally executed. The founding fathers of our Church spread Truth and love like wildfire, in spite of the vicious Roman government, and many were painfully killed. During the Black Death, many Christians risked their own lives to treat or transport the sick. Many heroes of the Reformation lived  in hiding and in poverty and were burned at the stake, all the while fighting church corruption and standing for Truth. The number of converts to Christianity in China only grew faster than the number of executions Mao arranged. Today, as always, Christian missionaries, even their infant children, are killed on the mission field. Brave souls in the Middle East accept Christ into their hearts, knowing full well that, because of that exact decision, they will be disowned by their family, and then hunted and killed.

Needless to say, it’s not always “your best life now,” as Joel Osteen would say.

So, have I counted the cost?

Maybe I’m being naive in my optimism. Sure, I’d love it if all my remaining relatives lived what I would deem as long, full lives. I’d love it if I didn’t have to bury my wife or children, and if my daughters never broke my heart. That I’d die painlessly after a full-life of righteous blessing and productivity in God’s name.

But the Bible has never promised me any of that. How many people do I know that have had the life described above? When I wish and hope like that, I might be getting too attached, strangely, to the world.

Friends, for the sake of our own health, the work of the Church, and the glory of God, we need to surrender and trust to His will, wisdom, and love. He has overcome death, and he can help us to do the same. Death is menial compared to the life and glory God has prepared for his loved ones.

And I’ll be the first to tell you that I struggle to grapple with these truths.

Keeping in Touch, Keeping it Real

(Due to blogger.com's having technical difficulties, the previous entry "Death of the Consumer Church, pt. 3: A Better Apparatus" was deleted, but it will be re-posted next week.)

Imagine you’re betrothed (or remember your betrothal). Unfortunately, you live a good day’s trip away, and you and your future spouse are both quite busy in your respect lives. Because of this, you have little time together, and the time you spend together is mostly, if not completely, spent on the overwhelming plethora of wedding plans: recruiting for the head table, choosing flowers, china sets, honeymoon fares, etc.

    After what seems like a very long engagement, it’s finally a week away from the big ceremony. Your spouse, however, seems to be getting cold feet. After all, it’s been months since you’ve had a conversation with him/her that didn’t mostly involve apartment-hunting, building your registry or updating the guest list. You haven’t been able to talk about what’s been happening elsewhere in your busy lives, much less go on a date. You now feel disconnected and distant, emotionally . . . and you’re about to spend the rest of your lives together.

    “But, I don’t understand,” you might protest. “I lovingly spent so much time, energy and money into preparing us the perfect ceremony.” Doesn’t seem to matter.

    Sadly, it’s sometimes the same way with one’s relationship with God. We, as the Church, are the bride, preparing fervently for the Marriage of the Lamb. Let’s not forget to keep in touch and keep close with the bridegroom Christ. We spend all our time studying God’s words, trying to keep all His commandments, and serving Him in all ways possible. These are all good things, but a relationship consists of more than these.

    Pastors and leaders also struggle with this, becoming like the Martha of the Bible, and I include myself in this struggle. My relationship with God, in my life, has dealt with temptations to be academic or work-related, sometimes to the point where I don’t talk to God while I’m on vacation. I, too, need to rest and pray more to keep in touch with God.

    It’s downright humiliating how simple prayer is, and how available God is. Whenever I’m feeling a bit disturbed or depressed, how long is it before I say, “You know, I haven’t talked to God about this”? How arrogant and foolish I am to only resort to prayer as a foxhole, when I finally think that my problems and obligations can‘t be handled alone by my capable and arrogant self.

    God has overcome. He’s stronger, and He cares. Talk to Him. He’d love to. 

    

Death of the Consumer Church, pt. 3: A Better Apparatus

 It was a very exciting time for a Associate Pastor of Adult Ministries. He had been launching evangelistic programs and services for years, all of which failed to gain momentum, but this one seemed to have unprecedented potential. He had a good team of energetic seminary students that shared his vision, and everyone would work to produce a Saturday-night service geared toward young families. It quickly evolved into, in essence, a church plant that met within its own mother church’s facility.

Among the seminary students, the main teaching pastor was an eloquent speaker and aspiring shepherd. The worship pastor was experienced, passionate, and also a technological genius. I was their service producer.

It was my chance. Having just graduated from a Conservatory of Music, and enjoying how my seminary studies were informing my creativity, I brought a wagonload of ideas for what new and exciting elements could contribute to a truly worshipful and God-glorifying experience, and it was thrilling to see some of my visions come to fruition.

This young church plant, however, for lack of attendance, was put to rest after less than two years.

Why? The explanation is complex, but not unreasonable: miscommunication, leadership turnover, and the financial struggles of the mother church. It’s not as if my creative ideas were unappreciated . . . by the few people that attended the services. But I did learn an important lesson with the sinking of that ship:

“Attractive services” have their limits.

That is to say, that services that build themselves to attract “seekers” purely by gaudy production and sometimes theological and ecclesiological compromise are largely failing in their strive, as particularly evidenced by my experience. Originally, when I typed that last sentence, I really wanted to downright say that “attractive services” don’t work. But I can’t speak for everyone.

I don’t say this to be insensitive. It was a tough lesson for me, too, because this was pertaining to the very job description of my own seeming future. Our church, however, was ten minutes away from a famous venue that hosted people like Tony Bennett, Jennifer Hudson and Yo-yo Ma. A composer-in-residence that owned his own recording studio attended the mother church. What would I have to offer for programming in a church service that would “attract” someone in such a pre-dominantly secular and elitist community?

Let me say it again: “attractive services” have their limits.

What seemed the best apparatus for growing a healthy church (and what we largely didn’t have) was the excited congregation member. We needed people that saw our little runt of a church, despite its flaws, as a God-blessed family. We needed people that believed in our church family’s potential to touch our hurting towns and change lives so much that they invited all their friends to be a part of this church family. These “seekers” would be impressed, not so much by the attempted pizazz of the service production or the seeming relevance of the sermon, but more so by the loving and giving lifestyle and of the obviously-close community that is the church family, operating both in and out of the building where they meet once a week.

This is the mark of a disciple, and it’s what we can offer amid far more impressive concerts and productions. It’s, unfortunately, what the consumer church has lost. The stereotypical consumer church looks to attract into the doors with impersonal means, offering sometimes unreasonable amenities. Attendants of a consumer church can take a drive-thru and comment-card approach, having no independent desire to volunteer or serve. After all, that’s what the pastors are for, right?

When Simon Peter wrote to Christians, calling them a “holy priesthood,” he wasn’t just referring to the leaders.

This, to me, is the most burdensome effect of the consumer church: the pastors are left to do the work that should also be done by congregation members (e.g. evangelism, discipleship, hospitality, community-building and other forms of service and leadership).

The consumer church has made the church (and everything it stands for) into a product that we need to sell in order to raise our numbers. The New Testament has a much different vision of how the church family is to healthfully exist, grow and reach. It involves more sacrifice and grace, but its rewards far outweigh what . . . really shouldn’t be considered “costs” at all.