Wednesday, October 14, 2020
I sat down over the weekend with a local pastor to ask ten questions that I’m planning on asking a lot of people as we tour the nation. The questions are part of a book I’m working on, and this local pastor is the first person I got the chance to interview. When I explained it to him, he was all-in and even offered to “read pages” when the time comes. And that’s really cool.
When I asked him an off-the-list question, though, I got an answer that cut through the noise like a razor. I wanted to know offhand if he was discouraged or not. He said, “I’m incredibly discouraged.” We had been talking about church attendance (whatever that looks like) in the wake of COVID.
I think it’s pretty clear that now, whenever those five letters appear in print, we’re not just talking about a virus but about how our society has chosen to respond to it—and further what both the virus and the response have done to our economy, families, churches, and so on. The wasting damage cannot be overstated, and it will take years for us to sort through the aftermath. Given these circumstances, I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear his response to my question, but still, surprised is what I was. Pastors are supposed to have it together, right? The pastors have the answers, right? And they don’t struggle, do they?
Actually, of all the Christians on pilgrimage here under the sun, the pastor is the one with every right to discouragement. Consider the load he bears, especially now. All the uncertainty, the near-total vacuum of positive feedback, the estrangement of so many whose lives he had heretofore invested so much in, and for what? To host a Facebook Live version of church? And what’s that supposed to be now, The Jesus Show? Is that hollowness what so many aspirants wanted when they committed their lives to ministry? I don’t think so. I think they were drawn to serve because they wanted to make a difference. It’s understandable if they’re discouraged, is it not? And yet discouragement is the least excusable state for any pastor to live in, regardless of what results he thinks he’s getting, because as a doulos, as a servant, it is not for the pastor to reason, argue, tally, or complain but to simply obey the pattern Jesus paid out in John 5.19. I’m not saying anything unbecoming about the man I interviewed. And I daresay that it’s nothing he would disagree with. Fact is, pastors are servants and not much else. Plus, they step up when—and maybe because—few others are willing to trust Jesus that much.
He went on to describe the situation at the church he pastors. Understand, he’s not one to conflate the building with the bride; he well understands that the church isn’t the bricks or the mortar. Nevertheless, he expressed dismay at how few are returning, whether physically or virtually, in what seems to be at least the beginning of the end of the Big Nasty. Where has the church gone? What of value does she really possess, if something as inane as COVID can keep her shut up? Our resolve and veracity are undergoing a test, and the nominal church is failing it.
That’s as it should be, I think. The nominal church should be exposed as fraudulent, and immediately. God told me in no uncertain terms way back in January that 2020 was the year to get real or get out. I shared that word in a prayer meeting and even got an amen. We had no idea, but it’s like He saw all this coming or something.
Another pastor I talked to recently said that fully ninety-five percent of the church in America still isn’t gathering together physically. I’m like, “Yet, or still?” Good question. I mean, do we even want to gather anymore? Regardless of how it’s parsed, I believe our passivity is a huge problem that is defining our actual identity, whether we’re okay with being outed or not. The nominal will shrug the above statistic off like it doesn’t matter because, to them, it doesn’t. But the church is gutted about it. She’s broken and feels her desolation acutely. She is desperate for real, actual, Scripturally prescribed fellowship. Bottom line: it’s not within the government’s prescribed powers to place any kind of limitation on how we worship. Period. Further, this isn’t a case for the courts of the land. Our rights are given by God. Any government that abridges the rights of we the people to assemble and worship as conscience dictates is going to answer not we the people but God, and at this point in American history that is not going to be a happy procedure for the authoritarian oppressor.
The Pharisee is alive and well today. His weapons of war are his mores and stipulations, his wares are fear and guilt. He is lodged like an infestation within the bureaucracies, not just at every level of government, but of corporations too. Happiest when the people feel condemned and afraid, the modern Pharisee rubs his hands together with delight as COVID spreads its disease through the culture and society; it is precisely what he wants: crippling doubt, mass addiction to fear, and a people all too happy to divide and conquer itself.
I believe what’s happening is simple: we’re seeing clearly now what has lurked in the darkness for some time. Jesus has every right to purify His bride, and what right have we to argue when every Sunday for decades we’ve been singing songs that cry out for Him to do precisely that? Are we surprised at the call to come out from among the pretenders and be authentic? Am I the only one who sees these things and has the courage to ask these kinds of questions, make these kinds of observations? In 2020 God has turned the lights on, and we’re seeing clearly. What we’re seeing is extremely disturbing, for sure, but I submit to you that it’s an answer to the earnest prayers of His saints. How dare we approach the Throne of Grace with any stipulations or conditions! God will answer the supplications of His saints with complete wisdom, and so what if His answer makes us uncomfortable when it comes.
This must be at least a little bit like how Gideon felt when, in the wake of gathering over 30,000 troops to kick a hundred thousand Midianite bullies in the nose, God’s work left him with only 300. When 2020 dawned, the American church still seemed to be the immovable juggernaut it was purported to have been in the 20th century. Even the political pollsters and pundits take the American evangelical into consideration, however grudgingly. But for real, the actual church seems to be much smaller and less influential. Perfect. Let fly the miracles, then, because we’re going to need them. As the year has ripened (in the foulest sense possible) we’ve seen just how small a contingent God has reserved for Himself in the self-described land of the free and home of the brave. The good news is that He doesn’t need anything and prefers to work miracles through the poor, the barren, the small, and the forgotten. From what I can see, that’s the American church today. You can have your buildings and your multi-campuses and your Christo-entrepreneurial ambitions. The church needs none of it because God needs none of it.
I heard recently that certain refugee churches in America meet for four hours on a typical Sunday, meet at least three times a week for choir practice, meet for Bible study and fellowship and more, and that they live together, work together, worship together, and pray together—and as a result don’t have time for much else. They don’t have time to worry about whether they should feel oppressed by white people or which famous-for-now idiot happens to be the “masked singer.” They don’t care because it doesn’t matter to them. In other words, they’re focused on life, not death. I applaud them. I want to be more like them. Do you have a guess as to why they’re successfully navigating life together? I propose that one major reason is because they brought their values with them. America doesn’t value real, physical community. I suspect one reason why is because we have forgotten how.
This phenomenon hooks into the book I’m writing. One of the ten questions I’m using for my original research has to do with whether or not people feel connected or isolated. I’m testing some hypotheses. Technology claims to connect us. I’m willing to concede that it does, but not in meaningful ways. Actually, I think technology connects us in deceptive ways. About two minutes into the first Zoom meeting I ever experienced, I realized that it’s a poor substitute for a face-to-face, and it was just being used for the boss’ weekly pep talk—definitely not a life-and-death event. I contend that church is life-and-death, however. For the church to settle for virtual “meetings” isn’t just maddening, it’s eternally dangerous, especially when we’re commanded to not forsake the fellowship of the saints, to break bread together regularly, and to physically lay hands on the sick so that they can be healed. So it is that I join my colleague in his dismay over how few who name the name of Christ are actually interested in following His instructions for His church. I understand that it's difficult. How can we gather when so many are afraid or refuse to do so? It seems like there's too much resistance sometimes. But we cannot give up.
The pastor I interviewed asked me what our plans are. After just over two months of continuously trying to get out of town, it comes down to this: we will simply go, and we will do it by going simply. When Jesus commanded His disciples to go, He told them to forget about taking extra clothes, extra shoes, and extra money, and further that they didn’t need to worry about where they’d stay because God would provide a worthy house in every place they were to minister. Much easier said than done, especially when, in our case, there has been so very much pushback, even seeming sabotage. Everything that could go wrong seems to have gone wrong. The latest wrinkle is that I somehow threw my back out a couple of weeks ago. The chiropractor says we’d better not travel until late October at the earliest. So there goes another version of our plan. And while my healing progress is good, I not only haven’t been on a run since a couple of Sundays ago, I’m having to use a cane to get around. My oldest gave me a couple of skateshop stickers to make it go faster. I can tell you that everything in life has consequences, even simply aging. 45 is too early to need a cane. I believe it’s a temporary setback. The lesson in all of this is that perseverance is a benefit that, like faith, is sure to be tested. God never told us to stop, plus He has allowed a bunch of stuff to happen that has hindered our going. Praise the God who gives and takes away. He doesn’t change.
In a really sick and perverse way, neither does the world. The church has suffered through quite a lot of lies over the years, but the pack associated with COVID will have serious consequences that won’t easily be undone. The irrational advent of “contactless community” in 2020 will probably make ghost towns of our city centers as more and more businesses realize that it’s far cheaper to keep their employees working remotely than to bring them back. They’ll most likely not be renewing the lease on that expensive commercial real estate, then. The effect on society and the economy will be enormous as more and more people flee from the point of diminishing returns in urban centers in favor of a more reasonable life away from crime, oppressive taxation and regulation, blight, and rampant poverty. The real consequences of COVID are yet to be seen and yet to come in a lot of ways. If you think it’s bad now, just wait for the reaping of what we’ve sown.
But I maintain that these revelations are good things. I say this because my faith informs me that God is faithful through it all and works everything out in the end for good, not evil. If what we’re seeing is disgusting or disheartening now, just wait. The glory of God will be shown, even through the thickest darkness, so keep praying and praising. Why? Because the church is being revealed. And she is the light of the world. Small, dependent, and irresistible, she glorifies only God. She is mostly ignorant of her good works because she doesn’t focus on herself. She doesn’t keep score because she loves genuinely. She doesn’t need to be big because her God is. She doesn’t need buildings because she carries the sanctuary of God within. She isn’t bothered about losing because not even death can hold the life she has found.
Comments