Evangelism

“Oh, Sorry You’re in Hell….”

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HellfireI don’t know when the modern Church in the West abandoned talking about hell, but I do know that nothing’s been right since.

If what we preach in the Protestant Church accurately reflects reality, people are damned from the second they draw their first breath. We talk about eternal life starting when a person comes to Christ, but eternal damnation starts a lot earlier.

Yet do any of us live with that truth in mind?

I remember a conversation I had with a Seventh Day Adventist about the reality of hell. Adventists ascribe to annihilationism, meaning the unsaved cease to exist at their deaths. In other words, hell isn’t real. One of my arguments against that viewpoint comes from the following:

“There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores. The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried, and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in anguish in this flame.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner bad things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in anguish. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, in order that those who would pass from here to you may not be able, and none may cross from there to us.’ And he said, ‘Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house– for I have five brothers–so that he may warn them, lest they also come into this place of torment.’ But Abraham said, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.’ And he said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.'”
—Luke 16:19-31 ESV

The Adventist immediately shot back that this was a parable and could not be taken literally. However, Jesus never uses illustrations in His parables that have no basis in reality. Every element in His parables is true to life.

Hell is a real place. So is the lake of fire. (I can quote you all the Scriptures, but you can find a good sampling here, here, here, and here .)

But even as I write this (or you read it), little of the reality of the place sinks in, does it? We’ve made hell a kind of mystical plane of existence where only the truly abominable wind up. It’s not for anyone in our family, or for our neighbor, or for the guy who empties our trash, or for the call center woman in Bangalore. It’s always for someone else.

Though “Denial isn’t a river in Egypt” is a mantra in the skewed world of pop-psychotherapy, too many of us Christians in America are in that same denial over the eternal futures of people around us. We go about our days as if no one will ever roast in a lake of fire for all eternity.

Too graphic. Too disturbing. Too in your face.

Leonard Ravenhill wrote in Why Revival Tarries (p.32):

Charlie Peace was a criminal. Laws of God or man curbed him not. Finally the law caught up with him, and he was condemned to death. On the fatal morning in Armley Jail, Leeds, England, he was taken on the death-walk. Before him went the prison chaplain, routinely and sleepily reading some Bible verses. The criminal touched the preacher and asked what he was reading. “The Consolations of Religion,” was the replay. Charlie Peace was shocked at the way he professionally read about hell. Could a man be so unmoved under the very shadow of the scaffold as to lead a fellow-human there and yet, dry-eyed, read of a pit that has no bottom into which this fellow must fall? Could this preacher believe the words that there is an eternal fire that never consumes its victims, and yet slide over the phrase with a tremor? Is a man human at all who can say with no tears, “You will be eternally dying and yet never know the relief that death brings”? All this was too much for Charlie Peace. So he preached. Listen to his on-the-eve-of-hell sermon:

“Sir,” addressing the preacher, “if I believed what you and the church of God say that you believe, even if England were covered with broken glass from coast to coast, I would walk over it, if need be, on hands and knees and think it worthwhile living, just to save one soul from an eternal hell like that!

How can it be that a condemned criminal who probably did not know Christ can be more concerned about people going into eternal torment than you or I? How many of us would scramble across the length of this country, torn to shreds by the shards of glass beneath us, to save one soul?

John Knox beseeched God: “Great God, give me Scotland, or I die!” Yet my own heart reveals little of that same concern to prefer my own death over the damnation of even one soul. And I know my heart is not the only one bereft of that evangelistic fire.

I don’t think we have a lot of time left. I’m no prophet or eschatology guru, but I can’t escape the Holy Spirit saying that we’ve got to start living like we really believe the Lord. That belief means we’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that no one ends up in hell. Maybe we better stop wasting time comparing iPod prices online.

Where is our zeal for evangelizing the lost? Why are we so dead to the reality that people we know are cruising toward an eternity filled with weeping and gnashing of teeth?

Hell is a real place. Time for us to start living like we believe it.

Branded for Christ

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My father wore nice clothing. He bought from an old-fashioned men’s store owned by a respected Jewish family that sold top designers at JC Penney prices. The movers and shakers in that family were serious-looking men who walked around with slivers of marking soap in their pockets and tape measures draped around their necks at all times. And when they spoke with you, it was always from over the tops of their half-glasses.

As a teenager, I visited that store with fascination. The owners lived and died men’s clothing. The Steinbergs could take one look at a suit and know the designer. They recognized the cloth, understood a designer’s cut. Cassini, De la Renta, Botany 500, Perry Ellis—it didn’t matter. The brand spoke to them, whispering its secrets, secrets the Steinbergs guarded as they built a reputation for excellence.

In the recent past, I discussed branding with a fellow Christian blogger. He didn’t like the idea of thinking of himself as a brand, but despite the protests, there’s no escaping the marketing aspects of branding. Any public personna, even a blogger’s, has an aura it exudes. That glow attracts others because of the peculiar set of characteristics that define the blog. Cerulean Sanctum’s brand falls into the following set of characteristics:

  • I primarily discuss the American Church.
  • I examine issues within the Church that may be overlooked by others.
  • I offer practical (rather than theoretical) answers to those issues.
  • I try to keep a balanced perspective between warring philosophies, usually because I believe no side today fully sees the bigger picture.
  • The writing here may be controversial, not because it skewers individuals or denominations, but that it forces the Church as a whole to examine itself more thoroughly.
  • Readers consider the commentary here to be passionate, intriguing, unique, and thoughtful.

That’s the Cerulean Sanctum brand. (Notice how objectivity anchors some of those brand characteristics, while others are perceptions.)

You’ll notice I rarely depart from the brand. Diverging from the brand only harms the message. I shared with that other blogger the half-dozen or so things he does well and told him he should consider staying with—and reinforcing—those characteristics of his brand. In most cases, adding too much to the brand or stripping off what people appreciate in the brand spells doom. Imagine if Apple Computer abandoned its well-known industrial design. Or the company decided to forgo ease-of-use.

My son has a London Fog winter coat. Growing up, London Fog epitomized for me classically-tailored men’s outerwear. The Steinbergs sold London Fog; it was my dad’s coat of choice.

But my son’s coat is nothing more than the name London Fog stitched into a coat that could be any generic outerwear made anywhere in the world (Bangladesh, in this case). Nothing of London Fog’s brand can be found in the coat. With no sense of tailoring or style, it’s just a coat. I can’t even say that it will weather like a London Fog. Given its cost and origin, probably not. I’m not sure I even noticed the London Fog name when I bought it. One thing I do know: I’ll cast a wary eye at anything else branded London Fog that I might find on the racks today.

Diverging from the brand or simply tossing the brand name on any old item dilutes the power and prestige of a brand.

Whether we like it or not, Christianity has a “brand.” Certain characteristics of the Faith contribute to its objective practice and to the perceptions of others. Good or ill accompany those practices and perceptions. Holy Spirit stained glass by TiffanyI’m sure every person reading this is intimately acquainted with both the good and the ill. Still, I’m sure we can come to some agreement on what the Christian “brand” entails.

Or can we? Maybe even that’s the wrong way to go about understanding what people know about being followers of Christ. Perhaps there’s a better source for understanding our brand than asking ourselves how it’s viewed.

Many of the posts on Cerulean Sanctum begin with me wondering how other people—whether in the Church or outside it—comprehend Christians they encounter. Sort of the “walk a mile in another person’s moccasins” view. In the case of people who don’t know Christ, reasons exist for their reluctance to listen to the Gospel we bring them. Before anyone drops a “Christ said the world will hate us” bomb now, let me ask whether the perceptions of the Church by others are formed…

…because our light is exposing their darkness…

-OR-

…because the American Church’s own state is so dim, the unbeliever’s darkness looks like high noon on a clear Antarctic day in comparison.

Much more difficult choice, isn’t it? That sneer on the face of a coworker whenever Christ is mentioned may have more to do with the lousy experiences he’s had with Christians and the Church than it does with any hatred he may have toward Christ Himself.

We’d do well to find out from non-believers what it is we’re doing wrong. I’m not talking about megachurch demographic sampling nonsense here, but asking the hard questions. For instance, the next time we sit down with someone who doesn’t know Christ, ask the following in casual conversation:

What do you appreciate about Christianity?

What bothers you about it?

I can promise you this, you’ll learn a lot from those two questions. The question we should then ask ourselves is how we go about reversing negative perceptions while reinforcing the good. Since I can promise that most trait perceptions come down to the way we practice the faith, we’ll get a firm dose of reality, plus a roadmap for prayer and growth.

I’ve said many times here that we’re not in the initial stages of evangelization in the United States, we’re in mop-up mode. Nearly everyone living in this country has heard the name of Jesus. Now all they need to see is an American Church that practices what it believes.

Let’s face it: We’ve diluted the brand. We’ve added too much garbage to Christ’s message. We’ve tacked on enough Christianized cultural artifacts to derail millions. Or we abandoned the very heart of the Gospel to the point that people aren’t really sure what defines Christianity anymore. And it’s not just the unsaved who face that dilemma. I know solid Christians searching for Christ in the midst of a Church that has largely forgotten the truth of what it means to follow Him in simple discipleship.

I grew up singing “They’ll Know We Are Christians By Our Love.” The title of that song grabs me every time because it’s essential to our brand. Christians should always be characterized by their love for others and for the Lord. But are we known for our love or for the fact that ten times yesterday someone from a Christian organization phoned to remind us to vote against godless heathens? (If only just one person a day called you or me to remind us we are loved by Christ and by the brethren!)

What do non-believers say? Trust me, they’re getting our message—especially if that message doesn’t match our practice or the true call of Jesus. We need to ensure when we mention Christianity to others, the response is positive rather than negative. Otherwise, we need to fix how we live.

In more ways than one, we’ve been branded for Christ. Whether we believe in the value of that brand enough to protect it and communicate it effectively is quite another thing altogether.

Being the Body: How to Forge Real Community, Part 1

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Unbroken circleIn the first entry in this series, we looked at the Biblical foundation for asserting that the Lord is powerfully for community. His model for how we’re supposed to live and minister are based in community, not the rugged individualism we find so prevalent in the American mindset.

Regular readers will know that posts on community turn up frequently at Cerulean Sanctum. (Search on the Community category in the sidebar.) As I mentioned yesterday, I believe that many of the problems facing the American Church today are based in flawed or non-existent community. Clean up how we do community, and many  of these problems will fade away, leaving us to better serve the Lord and each other.

Many people talk about community, but achieving vital community within our churches is another issue altogether. I think the Lord is sick of talk; He wants to see us start living what we’re talking about.

So how do we start developing community?

Today, we’ll look at basic ways to turn talk about community into the kind of fellowship that dwells in one accord.

#1 – Every hour of every day, say, “It’s not about me.”

    Christianity, at its core, is others-centered. Love the Lord. Lord your neighbor. The heart of the Christian is inclined to Christ, and as Christ gave Himself away, we should give ourselves away. Freely we have received, freely we give.

Aren’t we always quickened by missionary stories that tell of extraordinary sacrifice? David Brainerd gave to the lost Indians he encountered till his tuberculosis-racked body gave out. Jim Elliot took a spear to the back so a primitive tribe others forgot might escape eternal torment. Hudson Taylor buried most of his family in China, yet because of his selflessness, the Chinese Church not only thrives today, but shames us with their faithfulness amid persecution.

The great Christians are so because they gave themselves away, sometimes even to martyrdom.

It’s about Christ. It’s about others. However unpopular that may be with us “King of the Hill” Christians in America, the truth remains. Community starts with understanding that you and I are tiny (albeit essential) bits of the Body of Christ. If we’ve truly died to the world, then being a tiny bit consecrated to a greater purpose is pure joy.

If we’re still holding onto our selves, then “it’s not about me” will grate on us. We’ll find any avenue we can to pave over that truth. And when it’s finally buried, we’ll paint a happy face over the top and go on serving ourselves.

But don’t call that Christian discipleship.

#2 – When a person shares a need with us, we should instinctively ask, “How can I help meet your need?”

    Nothing angers me more than the hands-off approach some Christians take with the needy. Those quasi-disciples have this bizarre notion that aiding the hurting, shattered, and destitute will somehow stymie whatever God is trying to do in that person’s life. It’s as if we believe that God is going out of His way to punish the hurting, shattered, and destitute, and any comfort or assistance we give that poor person will throw a monkey wrench into God’s rack of discipline.

Nonsense. I’ve read the Bible from cover to cover enough times to know that such thinking is nothing more than an excuse to do nothing.

On the other hand, the Bible is loaded with hundreds of verses commanding us to look after the less fortunate. For those who hold to the less is more concept of helping others, here’s a favorite of mine:

Whoever closes his ear to the cry of the poor will himself call out and not be answered.
—Proverbs 21:13 ESV

Ye-ouch.

No, as disciples of Jesus Christ, we are to imitate our Master. He did not rebuke the needy, but met their need. Notice His response in this passage:

As he drew near to Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging. And hearing a crowd going by, he inquired what this meant. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” And he cried out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And those who were in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent. But he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And Jesus stopped and commanded him to be brought to him. And when he came near, he asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Lord, let me recover my sight.” And Jesus said to him, “Recover your sight; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him, glorifying God. And all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.
—Luke 18:35-43 ESV

Jesus did not attempt to blame the man for anything. He did not try to explain to the man that God was disciplining him through his blindness. No, Jesus asked, “What do you want me to do for you?”

A servant asks that question. Because our Lord came as a servant, we are to ask the same question if we are to be like Him.

Don’t unload a needy person’s request on someone else, even if that someone else is God. If you wish to bring others into the situation to help, by all means do so, especially God. But take responsibility by asking, “How can I help meet your need?” Then meet the need with every resource God has given you.

Some of you may wonder how this makes for vital community. The answer is simple: If we’re collectively meeting the needs of others, when it comes our time to be needy (and our time WILL come), our needs will be met. I don’t have to spend all my time watching my own back because the brethren are doing it for me, just as I am for them.

But it has to start with us. We may even run a deficit on returns, yet we do it nonetheless. Maybe if enough of us do it within our churches, being true servants will catch on. And so will true community.

#3 –  The Holy Spirit created Christian community ex-nihilo, so we better be Spirit-filled.

    No sooner had the Holy Spirit fallen at Pentecost than we see this at the close of Acts 2:

 

And all who believed were together and had all things in common. And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need. And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved.
—Acts 2:44-47 ESV

The echoes of Peter’s Pentecost sermon still reverberated among the palisades of Jerusalem, yet already the Lord was forging a vital community. A Spirit-filled church will naturally pursue community. One of the hallmarks of being filled with the Lord is a godly inclination toward others. It’s inescapable.

If there’s no real community at your church, then the Holy Spirit’s not there. Pure and simple. If your church is a tenuous affiliation of individuals, then I don’t care how powerful you may think the preaching, teaching, and worship are, your church is stone cold dead. We’ve got to stop lying to ourselves. The proof of the Holy Spirit’s absence is right there in the lack of community within our churches.

If that’s your church, you don’t have to go down without a fight. Greater is He that is in us than he that is in the world.

Find at least a couple other people dying for community, then pick a night when you can go to your church and throw yourselves face down before God, praying until the Spirit shows up. Fast and pray till heaven opens. Do it long enough and others might notice. Maybe they’ll join, too.

Are we serious enough about community to take whatever steps we must to have the kind of community we prattle on about? I know I’m deadly serious about this issue because I think it means life or death for the American Church. Yes, the devil can no sooner wipe out the worldwide church than you or I can blow out the sun, but that doesn’t guarantee the American Church won’t be reduced to a handful of embers. God’s going to send His Spirit where people are serious about the cost of discipleship.  And part of that cost is putting down our self-centered lives to pursue a life of real community.

#4 – Judgment may begin with the house of God, but so does charity.

    Take another look at the Acts 2 passage above. What needy people were the first recipients of the Church’s charity? People in the Church!

We can’t serve people outside our churches if we can’t serve people inside them. And too often, that’s exactly the case. We think that once a person becomes a Christian, they don’t need help from the brethren. We wrongly toss needy fellow believers back into God’s hands and go out to help those outside.

What witness to the world is that, though? Why would anyone want to be a part of a community that’s willing to help people UNTIL they become part of the community? Look at enough cults and you’ll be surprised how many act just that way.

Sadly, I’ve known Christian churches that do that. Time and again they fail because they forgot that charity begins at home. We minister to the believers first, then to those outside the community.

Does this run the risk of being too inwardly focused? Sure. But if a community of folks dead to the world makes up your church, they’ll need less and less inner support as time goes on. Soon, most of the community will require only a minimum of support at the most critical times, and more time can be spent ministering to the needs of those outside the community of faith.

Some would go so far as to say that there is no distinction between inside and outside. David Fitch’s The Great Giveaway cranks the amp to eleven by stating that all charity should be within the church community: Definitely offer help to the needy outside our churches, but with the stipulation that they become part of the church first. That’s some serious tough love, but I can see the wisdom in it. Think of the wide-eyes among nonbelievers when encountering the early Christians looking after each other the way they did. I’m sure many of those pagans were dying to have some of what the Christians had.

How many lost people today are dying to have what we have? Are they beating down the doors of our churches to get in?

If we start thinking along the lines of the four points raised in this post, we’ll make progress toward true community in our churches. In the days ahead, we’ll discuss other ways that we can work toward the kind of Christian community that will change the world for Christ.

Posts in this series: