Category: Christ & Culture (Page 4 of 38)

Only Ourselves to Blame

We first suspected it in the early ’90s. We began to see corroborating research in the 2000s. Now the growing evidence is becoming undeniable. In the United States, people are leaving the Church and rejecting Christianity, in large part, because of our unseemly connections to national politics.

Some researchers call it “political backlash” and others refer to it as the “politicization of religion.” But the American Church is increasingly viewed by the general population as being in bed with right wing national politics and it repulses them. They see Christians holding their voting records with the same reverence as their loyalty to Christ. They see us stumping for our favorite politicians with more conviction and enthusiasm than when we’re witnessing for Jesus. They see the Church working harder to elect the “right” candidate than it does to protect immigrants or defeat racism. They see us caring more about state and national politics than we do about the Kingdom of God, even when the national politics are in conflict with obvious Kingdom of God values. So, to avoid the risk of being identified with a certain brand of American politics, to keep from being lumped in with the ways and means and goals of those politics, lots of women and men are opting to stay away from the Church.

We have only ourselves to blame.

Russell Moore, the president of the Southern Baptist Ethics and Liberty Commission, told a writer’s conference last summer, “If people reject the Church because they reject Jesus and the Gospel, we should be saddened but not surprised. But what happens when people reject the Church because they think we reject Jesus and the Gospel? That’s a far different problem. What if people don’t leave the Church because they disapprove of Jesus, but because they’ve read the Bible and have come to the conclusion that the Church itself would disapprove of Jesus? That’s a crisis.”

The research is backing that up.

The American Sociological Review published findings twenty years ago that concluded distaste with the Church’s involvement with national politics is prompting people to reject church. Michele Margolis, a political science professor at Penn, writes that Americans are “falling away from religion because they see it as so wrapped up with Republican politics.” Research by David Campbell, a political scientist at the University of Notre Dame, claims that “something as simple as reading a news story about a Republican who spoke in a church could prompt some Democrats to say they are non-religious.” Barna Research shows that as Christians display an increased fervor for national politics, the public is increasingly viewing the Church as “narrow-minded,” “homophobic,” “misogynistic,” and “racist.” Studies show that young people especially are rejecting the Church because it looks like an extension of the Republican Party.

Robert Jeffress, the Senior Pastor at First Baptist Church in Dallas, the nation’s largest Baptist congregation, publicly calls all Democrats “godless.” There’s a house two blocks from mine here in Midland proudly flying a large flag containing a profane slogan directed against the current president of the U.S. over a large wooden cross in the yard and in front of another Christian cross on the house’s front wall.

We have no one to blame but ourselves. And it cuts both ways. We hear it from both sides.

“All Christians have to vote Republican because of the gay marriage position of the Democrats.”
“No, all Christians have to vote Democrat because of the military and war policies of the Republicans.”
“No, the Church supports Republicans because of the abortion issue.”
“Wrong, the Church supports Democrats because of the immigration issue.”

It’s easy to understand why someone seeking the Kingdom of God that transcends the kingdoms of the world would be turned off by that kind of talk. It’s no wonder people looking for something better and higher and eternal would be disgusted with that attitude. Using national political goals and means or a party’s platform as an end-all-be-all referendum on the lordship of Jesus is what’s weakening God’s Church. We’re viewing Jesus and interpreting Scripture through our party and politicians instead of vetting our politicians and evaluating our parties through Jesus and Scripture. Jesus did not come so we could create better versions of the kingdoms of this world; he came so we could belong to and participate in an entirely new and eternal Kingdom of God. It’s not that one party is good and the other is bad; it’s not that one party is righteous and the other is evil; it’s certainly not that one party is Christian and the other is “godless.” It’s that both parties belong to one fallen, broken, sinful, corrupt, worldly system. And it’s not going to save you and it’s not going to save the United States.

Jesus Christ is never going to be president of the United States. One, he’s not running. Two, you wouldn’t vote for him if he did. Think about Jesus’ platform: “Sell all you have and give it to the poor. Turn the other cheek. Love your enemies.” If Jesus had a bumper sticker on the back of his donkey, it would say, “Be Last!” or “Vote for Me and Die!” I’m not sure we always recognize that. Ironically, most everyone else does.

When we communicate to the public that we Christians are putting our faith and trust in these parties and politicians to save us, they know we’re on the wrong track better than we do. When we chase after political power and influence, when we sanctify a politician or a party in order to gain worldly control, most people see right through it.

Jesus came to be crowned King, not with priceless jewels but with painful thorns. He didn’t come to sit on a throne, but to hang from a cross. Jesus doesn’t come with t-shirts and stickers and multi-million dollar campaigns. He doesn’t save the world with armies and missiles and markets and policies or power or force or threat. He saves the world through sacrificial love. And suffering. Service. And grace. Jesus rules with a towel, not a sword, He saves with mercy. Forgiveness. Peace.

Our discipleship should be defined by those things. Our identity should be found in those things. Our churches should be characterized by those things. When it is, people will break down our doors to get closer to God. When it’s not? Well, we have only ourselves to  blame.

Peace,

Allan

Journal of Christian Studies

The inaugural issue of the Journal of Christian Studies arrived in my mailbox two weeks ago, the entire issue is now free online, and I’m eager to share it with you today. The Journal is a thrice-yearly publication of the Center for Christian Studies in Austin, of which – full disclosure – my brilliant brother Keith is the Executive Director. In keeping with the long tradition begun by Austin Graduate School of Theology, the Journal of Christian Studies wants to make biblical scholarship accessible and practical for the local church. They’re going to use each issue to focus on a particular topic or theme and unpack it in a way that benefits ministers and lay leaders in their congregations. Keith describes the Journal of Christian Studies as “more accessible than the purely academic journals but more rigorous than the popular-level magazines,” a venue for “thought-provoking writing that instructs and encourages the church at large.”

This vision captures the very essence of the old Austin Graduate School of Theology, where serious scholarship intentionally moved smoothly from the ivory towers into the trenches of church leadership. I remember well my professors at Austin Grad – mainly Michael Weed, Alan McNicol, and Jeff Peterson – after 30-minutes of tough sledding through some complicated theology, taking a deep breath and saying, “Okay, here’s how the Church needs to hear this” or “Okay, here’s why this matters to your church,” then spending the next 30-minutes in very practical and helpful guidance. That’s what Keith and the Center for Christian Studies is attempting to continue, by offering biblical and theological education and training for local churches and church leaders. And this initial edition of the Journal of Christian Studies is a very good sign that they’re really onto something.

This first issue tackles the topic of the Church’s response to COVID-19 and the multiple challenges that lie ahead. It opens with Ed Gallagher’s piece on the local church as a worshiping and serving community of God’s people in which the author reminds us why regularly coming together in the same place at the same time is so important to the formation of Christian character. Relationship, reconciliation, bearing one another’s burdens – God is at work in the hard work of being community together. This is something I believe we have failed to adequately communicate in our churches and the current times demand we step up our teaching.

Keith compares the emergency procedures our churches enacted during the COVID lockdowns to similar emergency situations that forever altered the practice of Christian baptism and the communion meal. He cautions us to engage in serious thought and reflection when it comes to our language and our rituals, especially as it concerns our rapid move into live-streaming our Lord’s Day worship assemblies.

Todd Rester provides some helpful historical reminders that our current day is not the first in which God’s Church has dealt with a global health crisis. It’s almost refreshing to read that church leaders in the Middle Ages also took steps to mitigate the spread of the plague and other horrible diseases, while still maintaining pastoral duties to the flock. At the same time, it’s almost depressing to realize that they were more faithful and brave than we seem to be. There are lessons to be learned from looking at the history.

Todd Hall completes the issue with a focused look at the pandemic’s effect on spiritual formation. How do we recover our spiritual disciplines? How do we deliberately move away from the screens and the earbuds, scrolling through Facebook and binging the latest Netflix drama, isolation and fear of the other, toward more intentional time with God in Word and prayer and with his people in service and worship?

I can’t recommend enough to you this issue of this brand new journal. It’s deep and serious theology of the Church and what our God is doing in and through his gathered people, and how the pandemic has impacted our expectations and experiences. It’s a call to pay closer attention to what we do and why we do it when we come together. Read the whole thing. Start with Keith’s article first.

Peace,

Allan

A Different Kind of King

The Scriptures say that Jesus is the King. That’s wonderful news, yes? In the midst of the violence and turmoil in Ukraine, it is good to know  that this world has a King. On election day here in Texas, it is good to know we all have a King.

Except, Jesus didn’t go to Nazareth Prep School or to the Jerusalem Military Academy. He didn’t raise up a militia and march to Rome to confront the head of the occupying forces. The very first thing Jesus did after his coronation was to go out to the desert for a 40-day fast and face-off with the devil.

If you really are the Son of God, if you really are the King, then act like a King is supposed to act. If you really are the Son of God, turn these rocks into Subway sandwiches. I know how hungry you are. Use your power to make yourself something to eat.

If you really are the King, jump off the temple tower and walk away without a scratch. Blow the people away with your power and invincibility. Become a pop culture icon, a social media influencer, with your own reality TV show and a clothing line.

If you really are the King, take charge of all the kingdoms of the world. If you’re really the King, then rule! Take over the world and dominate! Win!

Jesus said, “No.” He straight up refused. Our Lord resisted the temptation to be a King the way all of us understand “king.”

We are so enamored with politicians and their potency. We’re so eaten up with their platforms and powers. We put their stickers on our cars and we stick their signs in our yards. We cheer as they manipulate. We identify as they insult. We exalt in their personality and force.

Jesus looks at all that and says, “No.”

The first things we really see about Jesus are not in what he affirms, but in what he rejects. We know right from the start that Jesus is not going to be a King the way everybody else is a king. It’s going to be different.

What ought to frighten us, or at least us give us great pause and lead us to careful reflection, is that most of us would give our right arm for the very things Jesus rejected. The things we cheer for, the practices we encourage, the ideals we most care about, the lines we draw, the issues that bring us the most joy, the things that cause us pain – I’m not sure they’re in line with our King and his Kingdom.

Jesus told Pilate, “My Kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my followers would fight.”

When you say, “Jesus is Lord,” it means Caesar is not. Jason and the Christians who were meeting in his house in Thessalonica were arrested and charged for that kind of talking and behaving. “They are all defying Caesar’s decrees, saying that there is another King, one called Jesus!” (Acts 17:7)

Jesus says you can’t serve two masters. You’re going to love the one and hate the other. You’re going to be devoted to one and despise the other. You can’t serve both.

Most people I know are trying to serve both.

Peace,

Allan

Pray for Kharkiv

I know you are aware of the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the death and devastation unfolding on the streets and among the people of its cities. I know your heart is heavy. And I know you are in prayer. Me, too.

All war is sinful and tragic. All violence is decidedly against God’s will. The right thing to do today is to pray for God’s peace, to pray for the people on all sides of this unholy conflict, to ask God to intervene and stop the madness.

As you are doing that, would you please pray for some very specific people in Kharkiv whom Carrie-Anne and I love?

Back in 2010, my wife and I spent eleven days in Kharkiv, a fairly major eastern Ukrainian city about 20 miles from the Ukraine-Russia border. We were there to visit and encourage David and Olivia Nelson, a sweet missionary couple we were supporting from the Legacy Church. We love David and Olivia. We missed them terribly in Fort Worth and were very anxious to spend the time with them. What caught us off guard was how much and how quickly we grew to love the Ukrainians there.

I don’t know where any of these people are today. I don’t know anything about them or their families. But I am talking to our Lord about them today and I hope you will join me. I can’t get some of these people out of my head today. Or my heart.

I’m thinking about Andrei, a funny little guy who looks like Billy Crystal but who thinks and talks like he just stepped out of the Lincoln-Douglas debates. Super smart. Whoa. Andrei had only been baptized about seven months before we arrived and he was on fire for our Lord. He took off work one day to walk Carrie-Anne and me around Liberty Square and through some of the 500-year-old cathedrals. Andrei also drew blood when he beat my back with a ceremonial branch at a Ukrainian sauna. I think it was meant to honor me. Maybe.

I’m praying for Valerie and Julia. Valerie was my interpreter when I preached and taught during our time in Kharkiv. I remember having to wait on him while he came up with the Russian words for my American phrases like “wrapped around her finger” and “jump for joy.” He told me there is no Russian equivalent for “compels” as in “Christ’s love compels us.” A big red-headed dude who looked like he could suit up and play for your college alma mater right now. Very gentle and kind. He wanted to become a preacher. I have no idea if he did.

I’m thinking about Alexander, a dentist and oral surgeon. He told me in front of everybody that drinking diet soda was bad for my teeth. He spoke really good English except when he said the word “naked.” When we were reading Genesis 1 out loud he kept saying “nak’d,” just one syllable.

I’m praying for Yelena, David and Liv’s Russian language teacher. She taught Carrie-Anne and me the only Russian we know. We still say “lublu” sometimes, the Russian word for love. And Victoria, the elementary school teacher. Robert, the preacher at the Baptist church on the west side of town. Sergei, who once served hard time in a Ukrainian prison, preaching at a Christian church of about nine souls on the northeast side of Kharkiv.

I could write more about Vitali and Galina, Nikita, Masha, and Kevin.  I taught Kevin how to throw an American football with a spiral – I don’t think his real name was Kevin. I learned to tolerate chicken-flavored potato chips. I nearly threw up when David forced me to drink a glass of Kafir. We laughed when we learned the local beautification ordinance meant that everyone had to paint their houses and sheds the same color of gray. I could spend a whole post recounting our worship times together, listening to my Eastern European brothers and sisters sing “Nearer My God to Thee” and “Lamb of God” in Russian. About sharing the bread and the wine together at that tiny church building near Aptarski Lane and in the Nelsons’ living room.

We rode the subways where, today, people are huddling together and hiding from the tanks and the missiles. We hung out at the coffee shops that, today, are boarded up and abandoned. We shopped and laughed with the Nelsons’ neighbors at that massive downtown Kharkiv market that, today, is empty.

That was almost twelve years ago. I don’t know where any of these good people are today – if they are still living in Kharkiv, if they are safe, if they are scared, if they are okay. I am praying for them and their families today and for all the people of that great city where I witnessed first hand our God saving people and advancing his Kingdom.

You might be connected to Ukraine through Our House and the Gospel work done for so many years in Donetsk by Tony and Shanna Morrow. I know the Morrows came back to Abilene a few months ago. I found out today that Bill Hayes got out three weeks ago. But I don’t know anything about the community of teenage orphans they established there.

Maybe you’re connected to the people of Ukraine by Eastern European Missions. Maybe you’ve sent Russian and Ukraine language Bibles there.

Pray for the people of Ukraine today. Pray for our Christian brothers and sisters over there, six thousand miles away from Texas, and in so much danger and peril. Pray that the war would end, that all hostilities would cease, that all pain and death and demonstrations of power and force would disappear from that whole region. Pray that God’s will would be done in Ukraine and Moscow just as it is in heaven.

Do not put your trust in politicians or their positions, in armies or their weapons, in generals and secretaries or their strategies and plans. Put your trust and offer your prayers to the One Sovereign who alone can stop the senseless violence against innocent people.

“God is the King of all the earth;
sing to him a psalm of praise.
God reigns over the nations;
God is seated on his holy throne.’
~Psalm 47

Peace. Seriously. Peace.

Allan

COVID and Church Online

I got distracted last week and neglected to finish my thoughts on where we are and what we’ve learned as churches during COVID.

First, we’ve learned that temporary emergency measures can become standard operating procedure in a church if we’re not intentional in our communication, reflection, and practice. We didn’t as much learn this as it’s just been reinforced. During the early days of the pandemic, most churches complied with government recommendations and shut their doors to the Lord’s Day assembly. For the first time in history, healthy people in the United States were not allowed to worship God in their church building on Sunday. Most of us scrambled and began livestreaming our assemblies online so, at least, we could sing and pray, listen to a sermon and eat a communion meal in a virtual gathering. We understood that we were spiritually connected. And it was appropriate and good in this unprecedented emergency situation.

But now, nearly two years later, church online has become an acceptable and even sanctioned option for Christians and their churches. For a lot of disciples, the livestream service is normal now. It’s like the communion meal. I suppose there was a time when those “rip n sip” individually packaged communion kits were appropriate. But now, way past the emergency, many Christians and churches are still using them. (For my thoughts on communion during COVID, what we’ve lost with the “rip n sips,” and why we need to return to passing trays and “breaking bread,” please click here.)

The problem is that our language around the livestream was normalizing. We spoke in the very beginning about church online like it was already permanent. Instead of emphasizing that the livestream was a temporary, emergency procedure, we went out of our way to reassure the Christians who were staying home. Instead of saying that folks who are going to work, the grocery store, the gym, and restaurants should also return to the Sunday Christian assembly, we welcomed the online church and assured everyone watching that they were doing what was best by not coming to the building, even as a lot of those watching were attending football games and going out to eat.

The issue is that church online is not church. It’s something, certainly; it’s not terrible, of course. But it’s not church; it’s something else. By definition, church is a physical assembly. Flesh and blood people coming together in one place for a common purpose. Real, physical people gathering to worship God and serve one another together. Men and women and children, in the same place at the same time, being transformed together as they accept and forgive, bear with and love, compromise and laugh and cry with one another in the name and manner of Jesus.

Our faith is an incarnational faith in our incarnational Lord. God did not come to us virtually, he came to us in our flesh and blood. He didn’t send a text or a video, he sent us his Son. Our spiritual connections are important, but they are incomplete without our physical connections. Our Sunday gathering is not just any meeting that can be attended or substituted on a whim or out of convenience – it is the very Body of Christ. The Body of Christ is something that can be seen and heard and touched. Church online is a disembodied virtual experience. It’s not church.

Can you imagine being married and never going home to your spouse? I’ll just call her every night, it’s the same thing! Can you imagine telling your kids and grandkids at Christmas, “Don’t bother coming over for Christmas lunch and presents, let’s just Zoom it. It’s the same thing!

Of course, we all know it is decidedly not the same thing. What’s vital for some – the shut-in, the sick, those who work on Sundays – should not be normal for most.

But it’s normal now. It’s not surprising that something as convenient as online church would quickly become normal. If you’re out of town or on vacation, it’s much easier to hop online from your hotel room or your lake house and “do church” with your own congregation virtually than it is to hunt down a real live congregation of flesh and blood Christians and worship with them. To be shaped by the experience. To encourage other Christians and to be encouraged by meeting other disciples in a different place. To physically participate with the physical Body of Christ in all of its transforming power. We used to do that.

Maybe the compulsion to never miss church was misguided when, a few decades ago, we never dared skip the assembly. Certainly it was – a lot of us grew up believing that church attendance was the truest sign of faithfulness. The uncritical embrace of online church has exposed our shallow theology about church. As I’ve said before, the reasons online church is normal now and so many Christians opt to spectate from home instead of participate in person are three-fold: One, the pull of the culture toward individual consumerism is stronger than the pull of the Body of Christ; two, we’ve done a terrible job of teaching and communicating what’s really happening when God’s people come together in his presence, in the name of Jesus, and by the power of the Holy Spirit; and, three, our people have never really had a transforming experience in church. It’s all three.

The livestream should be done well for those who need it. And we would do better to address this from the pulpit on Sundays by saying things like:

“We’re so glad to make this livestream available to our sick and shut-ins; we pray it blesses you. For the healthy and mobile, please don’t let church online be the extent of your connection to God and to his people. Please come join us in person on Sundays and participate in all that God has planned for you through the Body of Christ.”

“We hope you are blessed by watching our worship service online. We also hope that you can join us here in person next Sunday.”

“If you are unable to be with us physically this morning, we’re grateful to be with you virtually. We understand that church online does not provide you the connection and the transformation that happens with the Body of Christ in here – but we hope this is beneficial. If you are able to be here but you’re watching online, we would encourage you to come join us in person next Sunday. Don’t let watching online be the extent of your engagement with God and his people. We would love to welcome you here to participate in what God is doing in us and through us together on Sundays.”

To be clear, I do believe there are benefits to livestreaming a worship service. Other than the aforementioned blessing for the congregation’s sick, shut-ins, and those forced to work on Sundays, I believe a livestream can be a wide on-ramp for people in your city. Folks in your community can be introduced to God and his people in your congregation through your livestream. But it must go beyond that. Strategies must be devised and resources must be deployed to engage those viewers and invite them into the physical assembly. We can’t be content with “hits” and “viewers;” we cannot mistake “time spent viewing” with engagement with Jesus and his Church; we must work hard to connect those online to the physical flesh and blood Body of Christ.

Finally, it’s on church leaders – shepherds, preachers, pastors, worship ministers – to teach and communicate better what God is doing during our worship assemblies, and to plan and practice so the holy community and transforming encounter of church is experienced on Sundays.

Peace,

Allan

Two Boats and a Helicopter

You’ve heard the story. A man was trapped on his roof in the middle of a terrible storm while the flood waters rapidly rose around him. The man was in trouble and he cried out to God, “Lord, save me!” A neighbor paddled by in a canoe and called to the man, “Let me get you out of here!” But the man refused. “No, thank you,” he said. “My God will save me!” And the waters continued to rise.

An hour later a police rescue boat cruised down the man’s street. “Jump in!” the officer called. But the man replied, “I’m trusting in the Lord!” and stayed on his roof and prayed. And the waters continued to rise.

Another hour went by and a rescue helicopter arrived on the scene. A rope ladder was lowered to the man but he wouldn’t get on. “God is going to save me!” he said. “My faith is in God, not in man!” And he prayed. And the waters continued to rise.

An hour later the raging waters tore the man’s house apart, sweeping him under the river where he instantly drowned. Upon entering the afterlife, he complained to God, “Why didn’t you save me? I prayed to you, I begged you to rescue me, I confessed my faith in you, I publicly testified to your power! Why didn’t you save me?”

The Lord replied, “I sent you two boats and a helicopter. What more do you demand?”

It occurs to me that we spent the whole spring and summer of 2020 begging our God to take away the coronavirus. Heal us, we prayed. Father, remove the virus from our world. Intervene, Lord, and give us a cure. You are the Great Physician, God. Save us from COVID-19. We were all praying those prayers. All of us. We were all confessing our faith in God to provide the remedy, we were publicly testifying to his sovereignty over the disease and the terrible effects on our health and economy. God, please heal us of COVID-19.

In his great mercy, he gave us three vaccines.

Yet, many Christians are still sitting on their roofs, proclaiming their faith in God while refusing his good and gracious rescue.

Seriously. What more do you demand?

Peace,

Allan

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