How now shall we live?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately. [I know, that’s kind of like me saying, “I’ve been breathing a lot lately." I’ve had a lot of time on my hands, which invariably leads to more thinking than usual.] Anyway, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands, because I’m not working much. In fact, if something doesn’t change soon… well, something has to change soon. We’ll just leave it at that. Really, we’ve been struggling to get ahead for a few years. Some of that’s our fault; we made some short-sighted decisions with our money. Some of it, though, just falls into the “shit happens”* category. Life never works out the way you think it will, does it? I planned to start my own business, I just hadn't planned to do so in the midst of the worst economic crisis our country's seen since the Great Depression. Life changed my mind for me. We're dealing with it, and if we ruin our credit or lose our house or whatever, we'll deal with that. Because you know what? It's ours to deal with. We don't expect anyone to come bail us out. There are plenty of followers of Christ who're homeless, hungry, and alone right now. There but by His grace go I.

Anyway, all those thoughts rattling around in my head bounced off some other ideas that have been growing in there for a number of years, and some of them knocked loose, and they sprouted some new ideas, and then a conversation I had with a friend the other night provided the catalyst for the fusion reaction, the dubious benefits of which you're now reaping. It should already be obvious to you that this is a little different than what you're used to seeing in this blog, but its tone and content won't surprise those of you who've known me a long time. We never said this would be all about Aylin. ;)

Please understand, too: I'm not personally attacking anyone. I'm sure there are a few of you who'll think I am anyway. It's not about you. You just provided grist for the mill. I've moved past people to principles. If it hurts when I poke at it, though, maybe you ought to think about letting The Doctor look at it. Remember: I'm walking the same road each of you are.

"All right, get to the point already, Jeff. What are you rambling about now?" I'm talking about the apostle Paul. I'm talking about New Testament Christianity in our time. And I'm talking about how far away we are now as a Body of Christ from fulfilling our calling.

Paul

I see Paul as the seminal example of what a Christian missionary looks like. We're all called to be missionaries, so I see Paul's example as instructive to each of us. He was a preacher and missionary, but he also was a tent-maker. He understood that the churches to which he was preaching had limited financial means, and he underwrote his own expenses, so as not to be a burden to them. We don't know much about the economic climate of the various communities Paul ministered to, but it's safe to assume that early Christians struggled to get by, much like most folks these days do the same. Is that what Paul meant about not wanting to be a burden to them? Maybe. Paul's kind of hard to fathom sometimes. I'd say that was part of it, but I also tend to think that he was thinking about what else they could be putting their money toward. If they weren't paying the preacher, they could be helping that crazy lady that lives down the block buy groceries. Or maybe they could help that young family in the church whose home just burned down, if only they didn't have apportionments to meet. Or maybe… you get the idea. Less overhead means more operating capital, if you want to look at it that way. Or, from yet another perspective, why should the church have to support someone whom God has given the ability to be self-supporting? I think it's fair also to assume that Paul wasn't in "the mission field" full-time for his entire career. That doesn't seem to have detrimentally affected his impact on the world, does it? Why do we think we have to do things differently?

It's important for me to remind us here that we are all called to use our spiritual gifts in the church. We're all called to be in ministry, though I think that's supposed to look different than it now does. More on that in a minute. If we're all called to be in ministry, and if Paul's ministry is more or less universally instructive, then it follows that we should all support our own ministry efforts by our own labors. I realize there are arguments for the other side; I'm just unswayed by them.

The church

A lot of you know I quit going to church a long time ago. I haven't given up my faith in Christ, so don't waste your time praying for my soul. Me and Jesus are just fine, thanks for asking. Part of the reason I quit going to brick-and-mortar church buildings is because of what you just read: I believe Scripture calls us all to be self-supportive and in ministry.

Part of why I quit going, though, is because I firmly believe we've wrongly fallen back into the Old Testament temple model of worship. The best example we have of what the New Testament church looked like is in Acts 2. I believe that's what a post-resurrection church is supposed to look like. Those early churches looked a lot different, in form and in function, than what modern churches look like. They met exclusively, as far as we can tell, in someone's home, not in a specially-constructed building or a rented storefront; they ate together regularly; they pooled their resources to help those in need. In fact, the description sounds an awful lot like a 1960's hippie commune without all the "free love".

Why then are we diluting our tithes, paying salaries and light bills and mortgages? Why do we have a separate "in-ministry" class of people who depend entirely (or mostly) on others for their livelihood? Do we think the early New Testament churches only were the way they were because of the social stigma of being Christian? Think again, folks. The reasons Jesus railed against the Jewish temple are still in ample evidence today in our churches. It was for many of the same reasons Paul taught against Greek temples. No, our temples are no different than theirs. Constantine moved us into a pagan Roman temple and we've been there ever since. It's past time we grew up and embraced our calling. It's time our preachers went out and got jobs. It's time we closed the doors on our church buildings and moved the Body of Christ back into the home. It's time each of us took responsibility for our own livelihood and faith.

Who we are as People of Christ

It's too hard to tell us apart from the rest of the world in the right ways. Oh, we Christians stand out all right: We're the rude people in the restaurant on Sunday who leave crappy tips, or none at all. We're the people screaming, "You lie!" at our God-given authorities. We're killing abortion doctors. We're blindly ignoring science on every front, not using the minds the Good Lord gave us. Gray frightens us; we prefer black or white because those colors lend themselves easily to judgment. We're afraid to feel the pain of others, or to let them feel our own with us. We don't want to know or be known.

We stand out. But in the wrong ways. When it comes to the social behaviors that demonstrate Christ has made a difference in our lives, we look painfully like the rest of the world. We are conspicuous consumers of wealth. We are unfaithful to our spouses. We are hateful to fellow human beings, just because they disagree with us. We stigmatize those who are different by labeling them "gay" or "lost" or "un-believing". We separate ourselves from our own families when they make choices we can't condone. We grow our families as if Jesus' only concern is having more followers than Mohammed when the rapture comes, rather than demonstrating how the love of Christ should operate in a home.

The Christian community in America has, by and large, built a wall around itself. We've built a wall made of fear and ignorance, and it's separated us from our Maker and our fellow man. We have no credibility anymore, when we "go out" to "make disciples", because those potential disciples have already seen through the ruse. We think we're better than them, and they know it. Our church leaders have spent decades, if not centuries, developing an intricate theology that allows them to continue an Old Testament tradition of living richly off the fruits of another man's labors. We've allowed ourselves to believe the lie that some gifts are more worthy than others, and that those who are so gifted, who feel the "call" to "ministry", should get advanced degrees at seminaries, because we need those people to help us approach the Throne of Grace. And we really don't want to get to know someone, because we're far too busy as it is. "I can work you in next week" just doesn't cut it when someone's hurting.

So people who don't yet follow Christ see our advances merely as membership drives or fundraising campaigns. If we do get them to the church building, they'll barely have their seat warm before they'll hear talk of raising money for a new building, or of a missionary family in Fiji who needs more money to stay on the beach and minister to those poor, lost Fijians. They wonder how many homeless in our own community could be fed, clothed, and sheltered with the $4 million the church is planning to spend on that worship center. They wonder how many hungry could be fed with the pastor's salary, or with the money that Fijian missionary family spends to fly their 15 kids back and forth twice a year for support-raising activities. Worse yet, they'll likely leave the church building without a single person taking the time to connect with them on a truly personal level.

We've lost our way, people of God. We've lost our way. We all know it, if we'll look deeply enough within. But we're afraid. The unknown is a scary place, and being real with the man next to you is risky. If we tear down the wall of fear and ignorance we've built around our little community, we might find we have more in common with "those people" than we thought. And that might make us feel a little less superior. And that's hard to deal with; trust me.

The money shot*, or How now shall we live?

But that place, little lambs, is where grace meets us. It's not in a fancy church building or rented store front with a state-of-the-art sound system and song lyrics displayed on the big screen behind the stage. It's in the street and on the job site and in the board room and in the bar. It's in a warm and inviting home, when there are a dozen people sitting in the living room, and they're following the Holy Spirit's movements in their lives, or when they're connecting with each other over a meal. It's in a truly open relationship with someone who's not like us. It's in having a faith that's strong enough to venture onto the gray paths down which real life leads us. That's where grace meets us. We've forgotten that, if our actions are any indication. It's time we quit trying so hard to be perfected and started being ourselves and letting Jesus make us whole. It's only from that place of brokenness we can be healed.










*If you're still focused on the fact that I've said "shit" and "money shot", you've missed the point. Go back and read it again. Peace.