Church Fail (Nanny State)

Instead of finding ways to facilitate the vitally important role of spiritual formation in the lives of their children, we (the church) have taken it from the uneasy parents willingly—no, anxiously. Regrettably, the church is more than ready to play nanny, taking undue ownership of their spiritual formation. Even worse, very often the church professionals unintentionally give the impression that parents shouldn’t try this at home. (Like those vapid reality shows that start with the disclaimer: “These stunts are performed by trained professionals; do not try this at home!”)

In other words, we give the impression to parents that they should leave it to the experts.

How did it get this way? (Again, just my observations.) It appears to me that the multi-staffed, mega-church model became a strategy of the church growth movement—which is all about consumerism and competition. The reason the church took the “cradle to grave,” nanny-state position in the first place is because it has become expected. Parents imply, if not state unequivocally, that if we won’t do it, they will take their business (their own children’s welfare) down the road to another church which will be more than happy to do it.

I think “bigger and better” has come at expense of our kids. I think giving parents what they want in order to keep their tithes coming “into the storehouse” is ill-advised and is costing us our children’s faith and future. Maybe I’m wrong.

Want an example?

I know of several churches (personal knowledge, not “I heard about…”) who struggle with or have given up altogether on reaching children and/or youth in their communities because of the growing number of parents who have complained about the unruly, unholy, and undisciplined masses of kids “who don’t know the first thing about how to act in church” (actual parent words).

Parents aren’t just relinquishing their kids’ discipleship; they also want to make sure that their priceless progeny remain inside the safe church bubble. And those “heathens” threaten to burst it. Instead of allowing someone to train the “church kids” how to befriend, disciple, and lead the “un-churched kids,” parents want to make sure “their kids don’t get lost in the shuffle” (yep—actual parent words).

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a mess. I know what it looks like, what it feels like. It feels out of control. It feels like the inmates have taken over the asylum. It’s like… like… “Jesus, send these people home so they can eat. They’re starting to look at us like we’re supper or something.” (Mark 6:30-44)

But Jesus said, “Feed them.”

For the disciples this was a perfect opportunity to learn how to serve these unruly Jesus groupies. And Jesus wasn’t about to let the chance slip away. In fact, it was one of the first opportunities they had to take ownership of passing on what Jesus had been living out in front of them. But the disciples were worn out on the whole multitudes thing. They were ready to send them packing so they could get a little more personal face time with Jesus.

Same thing with the church kids, their parents, and those pesky “outsiders.” They look a little rough. They don’t know how to dress. They’re loud. And the things they say and the words they use! We are so afraid that our babies might actually hear things in church that they hear every day at school. We don’t talk that way. Not here. Not in “God’s House.” (Don’t get me started.)

This kind of prejudice against outsiders is not new to the church, not by a long shot. My dad used to joke about the old “clothesline preachers” saying, “We don’t drink or smoke or chew or run around with girls who do.” Maybe we don’t. But Jesus did. (Didn’t you know that Mary Magdalene and several of the people at one of the parties Jesus attended had a smokeless tobacco addiction?)

While I’m here, I might as well just “shell down the corn and tell the God’s open truth.” If you aren’t mad already, you will be. Some parents of these sheltered church kids, specifically the parents of white daughters, became afraid that one of their young ladies might fall for a young man of color. Heaven forbid. As a man who has three (white) daughters and a best friend who is “chocolate” (his word), this kind of prejudice anywhere, but especially in the church, really ticks me off.

So secondly, the church has failed our kids in reference to our taking ownership of their spiritual formation by cheerfully replacing the parents in their most critical role. And we have done it as a part of our “church growth” strategy.

Next we observe what a failure of ownership means with regard to the kids themselves.

Let the Spirit Do the Persuading

I mentioned in an earlier chapter that I had worked for a church in Atlanta, Georgia during the late 80’s. One Christmas Eve we decided that we should do a candlelight, carol, and communion service. However, none of us had ever done a candle lighting service before. So, unfortunately we didn’t know the rules. But, how hard can it be, right?

We bought those special little candles that come with the cardboard drip protectors. But the pastor thought the staff ought to have “bigger candles” (if you know what I mean) than everyone else, because we were the ones who were going to be lighting everyone else’s candles. It was a symbolic expression of our superiority over the laity or something, I don’t know. Anyway, this was the plan.

I don’t remember if we had drip protectors or not, but it wouldn’t have mattered. We didn’t do it right. We flitted around lighting the congregation’s candles from our big ones, and since it was dark, we had no idea the pain we were inflicting or the mess we were making. But after Christmas our mistakes saw the light of day, and we were in trouble.

I don’t remember if it was a weekly staff meeting or a special meeting or if the word was just spread around among us but, however we got the word, the word was: Never again. I guess people got burned by our wax and we got it on people’s clothes. But the worst thing was we got wax all over the carpet. Do you realize how hard it is to get wax out of carpet? Not good. Turns out we broke all the rules.

See, here’s the way it’s supposed to work. Once a single candle gets lit, that candle must remain upright. Then another unlit candle leans in to be lit from its flame. One by one, in all directions, the unlit candles lean in to be lit by the upright ones. That way the wax stays on the protector, no one gets burned, and no wax gets dropped on the carpet or other people.

This is the best metaphor I have ever found to describe the kind of evangelism required for the 21st century.

Jesus said that we are the light of the world. Once lit, it is imperative that we remain as “upright”—in every sense of that word—as possible. Then, those who wish to join us can lean in to our light. But that is the work of God’s Holy Spirit. So many people have been “burned” by well-meaning people bent on fulfilling the Great Commission by any means possible. But, the scriptures indicate that it is the Spirit who draws people to him. And there are no “altar calls” recorded in the New Testament. In fact, the scriptural pattern is this: those who desire to follow Christ will ask us how to do so without coercion or confrontation from us.

After Peter’s speech on the day of Pentecost, when many say the church began, the scriptures say the people were “cut to the heart.” (Acts 2:14 – 37) Then they responded with these words, “Brothers, what must we do?” Then, when Paul and Silas were freed from jail by a miraculous earthquake, the jailer fell on his knees and asked them, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” (Acts 16:6 – 24)

They will ask.

No need for confrontation, manipulation, or even an altar call. It seems that those things may make “converts” you can record on your annual reports, but they don’t make disciples. And only disciples—indigenous disciples—can suitably reach the indigenous.

Contextualize the Message, Part 3

At this point in the conversation, perhaps you are expecting me to give you a rundown on the best way to present the Gospel to the next generation in a manner in which they will understand. Isn’t that where we’re going with this? If you are anything like me, you would really like some specific words or a particular program like the Roman Road or the Four Spiritual Laws that you could use. Well, good luck with that.

See, here’s the deal. That is the problem. The problem is that we want a recipe or a 5 step formula for winning the postmodern soul. We want a script. It’s no wonder that the young think we’re like bad used car salesmen or irritating telemarketers who interrupt their lives with something they don’t want to hear about. And, as Neil Postman once wrote, they have built in “crap detectors.” So you can’t just blow smoke. They can spot insincerity a mile away.

“One size fits all” evangelism models make our victims feel like marks in a con game. Why can’t we learn to be ourselves? Jim Henderson, in his book Evangelism without Additives, talks about being real and simply “nudging people closer to Jesus” by asking good questions and then paying attention to their answers. He calls them “attention giveaways.” What a profound idea!

If there is a “secret” or a methodology, it is this: make a friend—a sincere one. Not a hey-I’ll-be-your-friend-so-I-can-win-you-to-Jesus kind of friend. I’m talking about developing a love relationship with someone that is unconditional. My problem used to be that I didn’t even know anyone who didn’t know Jesus.

Frankly, I used to spend 7 days a week in church and never got the opportunity to meet someone who wasn’t already like me. So we had to construct programs and events designed to pull people inside if we were to even have a chance with them. But if we had been truly trying to reach non-believers, that would make about as much sense as inviting a bank robber to come into the police station.

Today’s “church growth strategies” are really designed at reaching a “better class of sinner.” In truth, they are not aimed at “sinners” at all. Instead the targets are other church’s “sheep” or the grownups who have stopped going to church for one reason or another. So in reality, the Church (big “C”) is not growing at all.

We have to come to grips with the fact that we live in a pagan country where the basics of scripture and the Gospel are no longer common knowledge. It’s a new day. The old days of throw-enough-mud-on-the-wall-and-some-of-it-will-stick evangelism are over.

Todd Hunter, former director of Alpha USA, says, “It used to be that people primarily listened their way into Christian faith. That made the Christian role talking: defending the faith, explaining the faith, doing apologetics, preaching, writing tracts, etc. While that reality is not entirely gone, these days outsiders are increasingly talking and observing their way into faith. They need to tell their story and see if Christianity is real. This major shift is difficult, because right when seekers are looking instead of listening, the church is at a high mark of un-Christian living. Transformation into Christlikeness has always been the goal of Christianity. Now it is utterly strategic—the future of the faith in the USA, humanly speaking, depends upon it.”

Did you notice? Outsiders today are “talking and observing their way into faith.” This makes our job listening and living it—two things we don’t do very well. In fact, one outsider is quoted in the book UnChristian as saying, “It seems like Christians are more concerned with being right than being loving.” However, that has to change. If we are ever going to reach the next step in our mission, we have got to learn to love, listen, and live like Christ. Then we can count on the Holy Spirit to handle the next step.

Immerse Yourself in the Culture

One of the mistaken assumptions of early missions from the West to “less civilized” continents was that the countries being conquered, colonized, “civilized,” and proselytized were in some way inferior to Western culture. Anyone who has ever seen the 1980 Jamie Uys masterpiece “The Gods Must Be Crazy” realizes the absurdity of that thinking. Or if you know the story of Gandhi, whose moral superiority brought the British Empire to its knees, you can appreciate the hubris of such belief.

Thank goodness and hindsight that we are now teaching new candidates a better approach to “foreign missions.” At least in most schools we are embracing the worth and the beauty of cultural diversity. And we’re teaching aspiring missionaries how important it is to immerse themselves in the life and culture of the indigenous.

However, we Westerners are slow to learn. It is unfortunate that the same antiquated 19th century kind of thinking still goes on inside the minds of people at all levels in the American church. American Christians believe their way of life to be superior in every way to those outside the church. Therefore, we continue the conquer, colonize, civilize, and proselytize mentality of our forbears.

But what if we—like our foreign counterparts—were to immerse ourselves in the culture around us? What if we were to embrace the culture outside the walls of the church? Here in America. What would that look like? I’m not advocating sin. I’m not advocating promiscuity. What I am advocating is changing the TV channel away from Christian television and to the shows that are exploring spiritual matters. Try listening to NPR instead of Christian radio.

Current shows like “Lost” or “Heroes” or “Ghost Whisperer” explore spirituality. Even the prime-time cartoon “The Simpsons” poses questions and explores possible answers to the spiritual quest of some of its characters. And has done so for 20 years! In fact, Homer’s next door neighbor Ned Flanders (fictional graduate of Oral Roberts University) made the cover of “Christianity Today.” There are myriad ways to explore the culture without indulging in immoral behavior.

More importantly, what I am advocating is sitting at table with those who will never darken the door of a church. What I am advocating is befriending “prostitutes,” “tax collectors,” and “sinners.” Does that sound vaguely familiar?

What I am advocating is creating opportunities to be a light that is surrounded by darkness. A candle adds very little light to a room brightly lit with hundreds of other intense lights. And a light hidden under the “bushel” of church walls is no light at all.

Then, beyond sitting at table, we must listen to the hearts and the voices of those who find themselves outside our exclusive circle. The inventor of the stethoscope, René Laennec, said, “Listen to your patients; they are telling you how to heal them.” Great advice for the church.

I love this quote from Earl Creps’ book Off-Road Disciplines: “Christian leaders today need to listen for the questions posed by those navigating our cultural perfect storm, regardless of the relationship of those voices to the Church. This sort of humility requires no compromise of orthodoxy but goes a long way toward defusing an often suspicious post-Christian audience, while maturing the Church in its devotion to Christ.” (p. 132)

Learning the language and immersing one’s self in the culture are the first two steps that will allow us to contextualize the message of Jesus for the people outside the church. Contextualization is the next step in the process.

Culture

It is my experience that the culture of a group of people is far greater than the sum of its parts. Now by culture I don’t mean the group’s level of sophistication. I’m not talking about its art, its combined knowledge, or its cultural anthropology. What I am referring to is the set of shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices that characterize a community. Thus, a group’s culture is more than the combination of individual personalities in the crowd. It involves their interactions with each other—their relationships. One may have a bond with another, but how is that relationship affected by the introduction of a third, a fourth, and/or a fifth person.
Interestingly, I’ve found that the larger the group, the more likely it becomes that a certain hierarchy will naturally begin to appear. And such a perceived pecking order may be determined by the simplest or the most complex of means. Things as diverse as money, beauty, position, power, and personality may affect one’s place in such an unsanctioned caste system. It is an extraordinary sociological pattern. But it is so much a part of who we are that we seldom notice or acknowledge its occurrence. However, when it is pointed out, we recognize it immediately.
For example, the wealthy get listened to. The beautiful hang together. Smart people get together to talk about smart stuff. While the shy, the plain, and the average give mental and sociological assent to the perceived worth of the perky, the beautiful, and the exceptional. And the higher up the ladder one goes, the more influence he or she wields in the shaping of the future attitudes, values, and practices of the larger group. In other words, the people at the top of the heap have the most influence on the culture.
But what if a culture could be established that would do away with the natural order of things? What if it were possible to begin with everyone in the group at the same level of influence and worth? What if money, beauty, position, power, and personality were no longer forms of measurement? And what if the poor, the plain, the lowly, the weak, and the introvert were valued as equals with them? And what if it were possible to maintain that kind of altruism? What would that look like?
I think it might look like the church that Jesus intended for us to be—without hierarchy, rank, or privilege. It might look like a people who are united despite ethnicity, socio-economic status, or gender. (Galatians 3:28) And that might lend itself to producing a citizenship which embraces everyone, regardless of their status, influence, or behavior.
What would a church be if everyone looked like priests, all with equal access to God? And what if everyone in the community were equal partners in leadership and had an identical empowerment for service? And what if the community’s meeting spaces looked more like real life places than specialty buildings constructed exclusively for the use of “Christians?” But that’s getting away from culture…sort of.
This is the premise upon which Agora was started. It was and is intended to be a foundation of love, mutual respect, and understanding.
We have found that everyone has a story. And that we have no right to judge someone if we don’t know their story. And then once we know their story, we have no need or desire to judge them. This is the power of authentic relationships. True relationship not only brings judgmentalism to an end, it also takes away the power of gossip. Because we are all invested in one another.
When a community shares attitudes, values, goals, and practices, a culture is formed. But if that culture is to be perpetuated, it must faithfully carry out its values and practices, embrace new members, and thoroughly train its progeny. That also sounds like church.
Thus, for the above reasons and some others we will enumerate, I have found that an effective ecclesiology begins with a culture, more than a doctrine.

The Plan

On Sunday, October 31, 2004, Pastor Phil gave us the whole day to make a presentation to the church at Carbondale. On Sunday morning, we announced my resignation and provided the people a dialogue about the next generation. Our primary text came from the Old Testament book of Judges. It is an accurate description of many who live in our city today. “After that whole generation had been gathered to their fathers, another generation grew up, who knew neither the LORD nor what he had done for Israel.” (Judges 2:10) We talked about the need to reach to people in our church-rich city who would never walk into a building full of “Christians” any more than a robber would go strolling into a police station.
That night, we talked about how we might strategize to accomplish this task. At the time, I had formulated a few ideas. By that I mean, I had read some books. So I shared some fancy power point pictures and diagrams that I had probably copied from either Ed Stetzer, Ralph Moore, or Frost / Hirsh. And we told the people of Carbondale that in the coming days they would all be invited to go with us—anyone who felt so led.
By January of 2005, we had already begun to meet weekly with a launch team that had been assembled. We also held Q & A meetings at Carbondale every Sunday night in January one hour prior to the evening service for anyone who was curious about the new endeavor. Carbondale also sent us to a church planting “Boot Camp” that helped us to clarify our vision, our mission, and our strategies.
Now, if I had it to do all over again, we would have taken a lot more time to plan and to prepare before a launch date. But we didn’t know any better. So, on Sunday morning, February 6, at 10:00 am, we gathered for the first time in the Zarrow Regional Library meeting room right across the street from Carbondale. It was, all in all, rather inauspicious. I probably sucked. I often do. But we had a couple of things going for us.
First, we had already answered “yes” to the big question: “At the end of the day, did God call us to do this?” So, there was that. But second, out of the 40 or so people who had decided to come with us, there were more than a handful of us who were determined to figure this thing out.
So maybe that’s another thing we had going for us. We never claimed to know for sure what to do or how to do it. What we found out was that we had a group of people—some of them any way—who were willing to suspend expectations and to dive into this grand experiment together. What we had was an assortment of folks who would become a community which was willing to help us develop the culture, the values, and the praxis that would become Agora.

At the End of the Day

I don’t know what you do when you have a major decision to make, but I do some pretty dramatic stuff if the choice is particularly difficult. When everything is on the line, I don’t want to be casual about it. Deciding whether or not to start a church was arguably the most important decision of my life up to this point. So it was time for some drama.
I learned while studying and teaching the Old Testament that the “fleecing” that God allowed Gideon to do was not appropriate for me. You know the: Okay, God, if you want me to do this then let this other thing happen kind-of-thing. So, for example if I were to say, “God, if you want me to start a church, then let someone who doesn’t know we’re even considering it come and tell me we’re supposed to do it.” Or maybe, “If we’re supposed to do this, then let someone give an anonymous donation of several million dollars for the cause.” See, that would be inappropriate for me to ask for. So that was out.
The next thing I do—short of lightning or an audible voice—is to make a “pro / con” list. That’s where you draw a line down the center of a yellow legal pad and write “pro” on the left side and “con” on the right side. Okay, yeah, let’s do that. So I listed all the reasons for (pro) starting a church versus all the reasons not to (con). This turned out to be a rather futile exercise, because I was leaving a job for which I had years of education and experience. I had a great salary and benefits and a certain reputation in a rather controlled sampling of my peers. Plus security, retirement, and stability are not something to ignore at my age. And all of these things were on my “con” side. I would be leaving these things behind.
However, on the “pro” side were things like adventure, creativity, and challenge. None of those give me any hope of retirement before the age of 80. So that approach was a bust.
Now what?
I do believe in wise counsel. I’m certainly aware that I’m not the first guy to come up against a hard decision. So I sought the input of several whose opinion I value. One of those stood out. In fact, his words to us became the theme song of our step of faith.
Jeff Lucas is an internationally known speaker and author. Although England is his land of origin, America has also fallen in love with him. He now shares almost equal time between the two. And Carbondale has been a frequent stop for him over the last several years.
While we were in the throws of decision-making, Jeff paid us a visit. He gave us some really good input and insight into new ways of doing and thinking about church. But the best advice we received in the weeks during our dilemma were these. Jeff said, “Here’s the only question you have to answer: At the end of the day, has God called you to do this?”
That may seem so simple—kind of a “duh!” But those straightforward words became our answer. When we looked at it from that perspective, we knew the answer.
“Yes.”

The “Saul” Experience

The Israelite king David was anointed king long before the existing king Saul had died. So, to say there was some real tension between them would be a great understatement. You can read their story beginning at about 1 Samuel 16 and ending with Saul’s death in chapter 31.
Though Saul continued to try to kill David, David refused to kill Saul. And David let Saul know that he had had more than one opportunity to kill him but didn’t. In fact, 2 Samuel 1 tells the story of David’s grief over the loss of Saul. David only needed to know one thing: Saul was anointed by God and therefore once God had laid his hand on him, only God himself should take action against him. David’s own words on the subject can be found in 1 Samuel 26 especially verses 9 through 11.
I tell all of this in order to help the reader understand where some of us who have had a “Saul” experience are coming from.
Now, I have never had a pastor or anyone else trying to kill me and neither has any of my friends in ministry (except one). However, I do know what it is like to be subservient to someone who so obviously did not have my best interest in mind. Working for a pastor is like working for anyone else. We are all different. We all have strengths and weaknesses. We all have gifts and talents, but we also have a human side. And the human stuff is bone deep.
In Georgia I worked for a gifted man who was in way over his head. He had never pastored a multi-staffed church. He had never been surrounded by a board of deacons who were so adept at business and organization. And he had never had to head an explosive church.
On top of all that, we were almost forced into a building program within his first two years of service—a building program that would more than double the facilities. Anyone will tell you that a building program can overwhelm the most seasoned pastors. Frankly, I think he felt claustrophobic in the straight-jacket of administration.
He would stay away from the office for weeks—sometimes months—at a time. But that didn’t work for the deacon businessmen to whom he answered. So every now and then he would show up to micro-manage every aspect and department of the church. But that would only last for a short time. And during the long stretches in between, the rest of us on staff would have to fend for ourselves, make our own decisions, do the best we could, and lean upon one another. Eventually, we learned that many of his inadequacies were being blamed on us.
So, I had a choice to make. If I wanted to properly defend myself and preserve my job, I could have mounted a convincing campaign to have the guy fired based on so many things—things like incompetence, deception, and gross negligence. But I knew the experience of David and what the scriptures had to say about touching God’s anointed, no matter how unscrupulous he had been. Ultimately, I decided it was time to go rather than rat him out or continue to tacitly condone his behavior.
We left Georgia, returned to Oklahoma, took a $22,000 a year cut, and walked away. Not long after that, the pastor left the church and left the pastoral ministry. I was praying that this would be my one and only “Saul” experience. It was. This bad relationship was followed by several very good ones. I learned much from the next three pastors I worked for. They turned out to be very different from the first.

First Churches

Every person who lives as long as I have has a long list of experiences that contribute to the totality of his knowledge and understanding. For people who spend years in the profession of ministry, those experiences are usually associated with churches and pastors for whom they have worked.
Now, I don’t have the resources or the inclination to do a survey of any real significance or sample size like George Barna. But, considering the anecdotal evidence I have collected from the people I know, often the most difficult experience in anyone’s ministry is their first church.
I don’t know if it’s some kind of ongoing weeding-out process that God does or if all my friends and I are special, but so many guys I know had their worst experience of their whole ministries at their first church.
My experience was not the exception.
The first church in which I worked full time was a place in Atlanta, Georgia. I will not name any names in order to protect both the innocent and the guilty. But it was the best and the worst—great people, beautiful city, priceless opportunity, huge budget, and incompetent administration.
First of all, in Atlanta, church is big business. The competition is ruthless; the churches are huge; and the pastors and even some of the parishioners are bigger than life. Names in that city include: Dr. Charles Stanley, Bishop Earl Paulk, Andy Stanley, Dr. Paul L. Walker, Mylon LeFevre, New Song, Babbie Mason, and many others.
Amazingly, the little church I went to work for decided to throw its hat in the ring. We decided to try and compete with the big boys.
I was hired as a music minister. But I joined a huge staff considering the size of the congregation—Pastor, Christian Education Director, Youth Pastor, Music Minister, and Minister of Recreation (yeah, I know) plus several fulltime and part-time support staff. This was for about 250 people. But the way they pulled this off was the fact that the church and its members were very wealthy. Some were household names that you would recognize. But I said I wouldn’t.
When we came in, it was a dying church. My first choir rehearsal was with 14 people.
Now, beginning there and continuing for many years, I found that it really helps to follow someone who is incompetent. It makes you look good. That goes for pastors too. The new, young pastor who came in and hired me was an amazing “pulpiteer.” In other words, he had a command of the language and a knowledge of the scriptures that mesmerized people. Unfortunately, his organizational skills and his one-on-one people skills sucked.
Due to the fact that the pastor and I followed people who were lacking, plus factor in our youth and exuberance, add the wealth and pride of the congregation, a children’s minister and a business administrator, and the place exploded. Little did I know that this would be my “Saul” experience.

Don’t Try This at Home

To say that this was only the beginning is a huge understatement. I found that once you start to ask questions, it’s really hard to stop. There were so many moments after the rebuild when I just couldn’t understand the whys. Why do we do what we do? Why do churches and their people expect what they expect and therefore demand what they demand? Let me hasten to say, this wasn’t about scurrilous people or evil intentions. It was about the system that we all inherited.
I mean, where did we get the idea that we needed a professional to do our preaching, praying, teaching, singing, caring, giving, helping, hoping, connecting and communicating with God? The scripture says very distinctly that there is only one mediator between us and God (1Timothy 2:5). In fact, we believed and taught the concept of the priesthood of every believer (1 Peter 2:9, Revelation 5:10). But what we did spoke so loudly that no one could hear what we were saying.
Like bad parents, we said one thing and did another. We were like, “Look, it’s easier if I just do it myself. You just sit there and watch me.” Or like a television program full of life-threatening stunts, “Don’t try this at home. We’re trained professionals.” Why are we surprised when that’s exactly what happens?
For about four years the church hosted and I headed a ministerial training program required by our denomination for credentialing. It was quite extensive—four years of work, more than thirty different classes. And although I tried to secure enough teachers for each trimester, I often got the privilege of teaching one or more classes each time. One of my favorites, one that became a bit of a diversion, was the subject of church history. I was fascinated with it.
Here’s the kicker. Once I had been through the destruction of a tornado and the questions that went with it, my understanding of church history became skewed to the point of confusion. But I wasn’t confused about the history. I was confused about what we had chosen to do with the knowledge we had.
In my own tradition, I couldn’t see the New Testament pattern for pulpits, platforms, thrones, and reserved parking places which you can find in virtually every church. In other traditions, I couldn’t comprehend the spiritual significance of rituals, robes, confessionals, and funny hats. It seemed to me that Jesus had provided a replacement for all of that—himself.
Then one day, as if I needed “fuel on my fire,” I met up with a guy I had heard speak before. His name is Earl Creps. This man changed my life forever.