There's Something Wrong With The Church

 

For a very long time, I’ve known something was wrong with the Church. I was raised in the home of a man who gave himself to the pastorate for over 50 years. I’ve now been preaching for over 50 years myself and have had the privilege to preach in literally hundreds of churches across America and around the world. They are all flawed. They are filled with fallen men, women and children who make blunders, mistakes (sometimes tragic) and are more concerned with their own comfort than the lost world around them. As I have told people for most of ministry, if you’re looking for faults, let me save you some time and start with me…our church is imperfect and I’m the leader of the pack.

But flawed as we are, we are the Church. So many times in my life, I watched my father shed tears because of the condition of the Church. He ached because she was so carnal, so lukewarm. He was wounded and hurt by the Church. He was crushed by the harsh words and hateful actions of so-called Christians…but as justified as he would have been, he never walked away from the Church.

My own ministry has left deep scars that have never completely healed. I’ve been criticized for preaching the truth, accused of spinning the Word because people were convicted of their sin and even snubbed by those who were upset that I helped integrate our church. I’m not as strong as my dad and I did walk away from the ministry a couple times, but always came back.

Why? Because this is the Church. This is the Church for which Jesus gave Himself. This is the Church He stretched out His arms on the cross and loved with all He had. This is His body and I am a part of it. We are His bride…not yet without spot or wrinkle, but we are His marriage partner. We are the Church.

If He loved it so much, knowing its flaws and shortcomings, should I not love it too? In fact, the more I know and love Him, the more I realize that I cannot love Him without loving His Church. I have not died for the Church as He did, but I have given my life to it.

This is one reason, it is so difficult for me to understand how nonchalantly those who claim to know Christ take His Church. It is low on the priority list and everything else seems to take precedence. Church members who are often too “sick” for church services, are never too “sick” for work on Monday morning. The weather forecast is too risky for church, but fine for shopping or a quick trip to the lake. And although they would never consider missing a cable bill or house payment, just because they weren’t “home,” they can’t imagine why they should make sure they send their tithes and offerings when they are not “at church.”

It's time we realized and started preaching and teaching once again that the local church is important. I know, the Church is the people…I get it. But they are the ecclesia, the called-out people. We are called out to gather. We are called out to fellowship. We are called out to study God’s Word together and to commit ourselves to one another (Acts 2). We are the Church and the Church has suffered over the last two years because we minimized its importance. We watered down the call to assemble. We buckled under pressure, and we have reaped the results. In many ways, the Church is weaker than it has been in a long time. Are there exceptions? Of course, but by and large, we are a shadow of our former selves, and to be honest, our formal selves weren’t all that great.

It's been said that the Church is a sleeping giant. I think that’s true and I believe it’s time for the giant to awaken. It’s time to gather the battalions of soldiers in the Army of God and ready ourselves for battle. It is time to believe that the gates of hell cannot prevail against us and that we have been called to be light and salt in this very dark and very rotten world. It’s time for the Church to be the Church. It’s time to stand in the gap, it’s time to roar! But in order to do that, we must love the Church as Jesus did and accept that despite its faults, it is the vehicle God has chosen to bring the world to Himself.

Silence Is Not Golden

 

There are many reasons why the “cancel culture” crowd is to trying to silence its opposition. Some reasons are rather obvious. When you understand their “end game” things begin to make a lot more sense. In the book, “Live Not By Lies” the foremost scholar on totalitarianism, Hannah Arendt, is quoted as saying, “a totalitarian society is one in which an ideology seeks to displace all prior traditions and institutions, with the goal of bringing all aspects of society under control of that ideology. A totalitarian state is one that aspires to nothing less than dictating and controlling reality. Truth is whatever they rulers decide it is.” Sound familiar? One of the ways this is accomplished is by silencing anyone who disagrees with their ideology. Never in the history of America has this happened. This has always been a place where a difference of opinion was not only tolerated but encouraged. Until now, that is. Now the protocol seems to be, “If you publish something on social media we don’t agree with, we “fact check” it or close your account, or maybe even completely shut down your outlet for daring to disagree with us.” Or if a company is owned by someone who doesn’t toe the party line, they stop selling their product and try to run them out of business. If you believe in and preach morality, they label it hate speech and attach a penalty. This is not simply an attack on constitutional rights of Americans. This is the deconstruction of the very principles which made this nation great.

Why do they want to silence us? Because if they can stop our voice from being heard, then the only voice people will hear is the one telling lies. They will then set the agenda and form the society they want. Every day we allow that to happen, every day the opposition gets louder, those who believe in truth and morality get more and more discouraged, and finally give up. I’m already seeing it happen…and you are too. Many of those who were outraged in November and January have abandoned the fight and given up. Our so-called “conservative” political leaders have whimpered their last complaints and have fallen into line. Our pastors have shrugged their shoulders and decided to keep their jobs by playing it safe. God forbid they would offend their left-leaning congregants, without whose offerings their comfortable salary would dry up. From the top to the bottom and from one side of the aisle to the other we are inundated with flaccid, amoral, disingenuous leaders who are only concerned with whatever lines their pockets and numbs their conscience.

You’ve heard it said that silence is golden…well it’s not, at least not in this case. This isn’t a game; it is not going away. Those who want control are not going to stop. They don’t give up as easily as we seem to. If you care about this country, if you care about freedom and if you care about all that is good and moral, you just cannot be silent. Are you going to lose friends? Yes! Are you going to alienate family members? Probably. Is it going to be inconvenient and more expensive to stand up for what’s right? Without a doubt. Is it worth it? Absolutely it is, and honestly if you don’t think it is, then you are part of the problem. Stand up, get loud, quit supporting tyranny by being complicit and agreeable. Be a patriot. Be a Christian. Be an activist. Be something…but do not be silent!

The Old Man and the Train

Many years ago, an old man boarded a train which was bound for the place he would retire. He had spent his whole life working, planning and dreaming about this day. He had read books about his destination, read the testimonies of those who had visited there and longingly looked at beautiful photographs which depicted the wonders of his soon-to-be-home.

          The conductor bellowed those familiar words, “All aboard!” as the train slowly pulled away from the station. He symbolically waved goodbye to the place which had been his home his entire adult life; the place he had worked, married, raised a child and buried both his wife and son years ago. It was a comfortable place. A place where he knew every morning exactly what he would do that day, where he would go, what he would eat and when he would go to bed. If comfort and predictability could bring joy and happiness, he would surely have stayed, but he longed for something more.

          As his journey progressed, the train made periodic stops. The conductor cried out the name of this town and that. As the old man looked out the window at each stop, he had mixed emotions. His back was tired from the rough ride along uneven tracks. His mind was weary, and he was having trouble remembering the descriptions of his longed-for paradise. He felt a little sick at his stomach, a little dizzy and a whole lot confused. Should he just get off the train here? Maybe this wasn’t his idyllic destination, but perhaps he should just settle for this little town, or maybe the next?

          But maybe he had waited too long. Each town seemed a little less inviting; a little darker, a little more primitive and some downright dangerous. Each bump in the train track sent shooting pains through his legs and back. Maybe he wanted off, he couldn’t tell. The pressure was overwhelming; to settle, to do something which would stop his head from spinning with thoughts of uncertainty, to take the first sure thing, even if it was far less than all he had dreamed of, all he had planned for, all he had been promised.

          The old man closed his tired and weary eyes which helped him to block out the conductor’s calls. His furrowed brow was an indication of his concentration. He forced himself to remember the plans, the pictures, the promises which had brought him this far on his journey. He pulled down the shade so he couldn’t see the little towns, the little temptations which called to him and urged him to give up on what he knew was ahead. He rummaged in his bag for “the book”; the one with the pictures of beautiful streets, beautiful homes with manicured lawns and smiling faces. A melody deep down inside of him, one he had learned as a child, started to well up inside of him. The corners of his mouth began to curl upward, forming a slight smile, as he quietly mouthed the lyrics.

          As he was singing to himself, he felt the train begin to slow and heard the clicks on the track get further and further apart. He heard the hissing of steam as the brakes slowed the train to a stop. He heard a voice, different from before, begin to call out. What city was this? He was afraid to look out the window, for fear it was simply another temptation. The voice calling out the name of the city was getting louder and clearer, and then he saw him. He shone like the sun and His voice was like thunder. He shouted it seemed, yet it didn’t hurt his ears. “Heaven” he said, “Paradise.” He continued to call, but the old man couldn’t sit still. He stood tall and straight, no longer bent over with age. His eyes no longer dim and his ears no longer dull. “Beulah Land” he heard Him say, “Come and see.”

          The old man followed the voice as he bounded from the train. There they were; the streets, the mansions and the beaming faces, just as “the book” had described. All he had dreamt of and more. His wife and son, his friends and family…all there waiting and clapping and cheering his arrival. “We’re so glad you didn’t give up, that you didn’t off the train early,” one of his friends said. “We’ve been praying for you.”

          The old man was home, finally home. It was worth the journey, worth the pain, worth saying “no” to the temptation to settle. Worth it all. As the old man, who wasn’t old anymore, began to stroll down those golden streets, flanked by friends and family, he once again began to sing that song, the one he had learned as a child, the one which had strengthened him many-a-day, enabling him to make his journey:

         

                    When shall I reach that happy place,

                    And be forever blest?

                    When shall I see my Father’s face,

                    And in His bosom rest?

                    I am bound for the promised land,

                    I am bound for the promised land.

                    Oh, who will come and go with me?

                    I am bound for the promised land.