Church Issues

“Eat His Body, Drink His Blood”

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Christians today think that the worship song “revolution” that we are experiencing is something new. But for those of us who have been firmly planted on the Earth while it has gone ’round the sun forty times or more, this trend is nothing new.

Catholics like Ray Repp brought a new folk mentality to worship music around the time of Vatican II. This trickled over into Protestant churches a few years later, especially within liturgical denominations. Songs like “I Am the Resurrection,” “Lord of the Dance,” “Pass It On,” and “They’ll Know We are Christians By Our Love” all were big hits when I was growing up in the Sixties. We sang them regularly as kids and even saw a few of them creep into the adult services in the Lutheran churches I was a part of at the time.

Despite the fact that I routinely sang Larry Norman’s “I Wish We’d All Been Ready,” the one song that always seemed the strangest to me was “Sons of God”:

Sons of God, hear his holy Word,
Gather ’round the table of the Lord,
Eat His body, drink His blood,
And we’ll sing a song of love,
Hallelu, hallelu, hallelu, hallelujah!

As a young person, I found this song (very Catholic, but heartily sung in our Lutheran church at the time) always hinted at a mystery far beyond what I understood whenever the communion meal was served. But now that I am older, I find the whole thing very eerie.

As I mentioned, I grew up Lutheran. And despite the fact that no one in the Lutheran Church today will agree on this, I was taught a consubstantiation position on communion. This differs from the Catholic transubstantiation in that the bread and wine were not “magically” transformed into the body and blood of Christ before the communicant partook of the elements, but rather “something mystical” happened to those elements after they were consumed. At least that is how I understood all this in my younger days.

Later, I wound up in the Presbyterian Church. I found that their take on communion—simply a remembrance done out of the command of Christ—to be highly lacking in any sense of the transcendent, unlike my Lutheran experience. This is not to say that I grasped what I’d been taught, but the evasiveness of responses to my pressing questions to older Lutherans was bothersome. I never did get a complete handle on the Lutheran view, and if any five Lutherans of varying ages were pulled off the street in your town today, they’d all have a different take on communion, I’m certain.

Now I am not of the cannibalistic sort, but despite the fact that I’d probably get a knot in my stomach singing “Sons of God” today, something has been lost in evangelical and charismatic ranks when it comes to communion. I’d love to see us come to some higher treatment of the communion meal. It deserves more than we are giving it.

I am firmly convinced that in many ways we have simplified too greatly the entire idea of communion. A complete meal hosted in the home is more what I hope to see, and some house churches have gone this way, but I also hold out hope that an invocation and celebration of the wine and bread would entail more than the casualness we bring to it. We have lost too much mystery in our meetings, and where better to restore it than in communion?

What is your take on communion? What are your reminiscences and joys over the communion meal? What would you like to see done differently? And lastly, do you feel that we have lost something in the transcendence of the meal itself?

Blessings!

Will the Real False Teacher Please Stand Up?

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Recently, I’ve tried to make any Friday posts I do here at Cerulean Sanctum a little less intense. But after several hours of websurfing last night (I’m under the weather and it beats lying in bed!), I just had to write what I leave for you today.

There used to be a TV gameshow called “To Tell the Truth.” The premise was that a person with an unusual history, job, or reputation would join two imposters pretending to be that person. After a series of questions from a panel of celebrities, the panel would be required to separate the truth teller from the liars. The imposters got money if they managed to fool the panel. What made the show interesting is that sometimes the least likely liars managed to fool all the panel—the janitor manages to convince everyone he’s the former king of Fiji, for instance, when the real former king is sitting right next to him.

The moment of truth, the nexus of tension on “To Tell the Truth” was when the host would finally ask, “Will the real __________ please stand up?”

Last night I followed a link that led to a website critical of several well-known radio and TV preachers. You can’t be a Christian and be on the Internet and not eventually come across a site like this, but in the past I had ignored them.

Not this time.

I decided to Google the names of a few of those preachers mentioned and see how many places branded them as false teachers, heretics, or outright servants of the Enemy. Unfortunately, I started with a preacher I tend to like, Jack Hayford.

I’ve listened to Jack Hayford of The Church on the Way, a Foursquare church out in California, many times. I find him to be a breath of fresh air since he is one of the few charismatics on the radio, and because I have found that a lot of what he says resonates in me. He is a thorough Bible expositor and often mines those little nuggets of wisdom that pass by so many people when they read the Scriptures. He’s not a “charismaniac,” by any means; rather he manages to keep the fire in the fireplace, something I admire in any charismatic preacher.

I lost track of the number of Web sites that called Hayford a false teacher. Most didn’t like the fact he was a charismatic, that he tended toward a pre-trib eschatology (I’d never heard him preach on this, so this was news to me), and that he supported unbiblical political involvement—mobilizing Christians to vote for moral leaders.

Now I’ve listened to messages by Hayford several dozen times. And in all those times, I think I’ve ever truly disagreed with him concerning his message on tithing. Personally, I don’t believe in a New Testament tithe like Hayford does, but rather I see that everything should be open to being given as the need arises. I suspect that my view would brand me a wanton backslider in many institutional churches and denominations, but that is the reasoning I’ve come to. I know that Hayford’s view is far more mainstream, frankly. I’ve not heard every message Hayford’s ever preached, so I cannot say that I know all of his theology, only that I’ve found him to be reasonable and within the bounds of what is usually acceptable in the Church.

But what defines a “false teacher?” And if we apply that criteria to all pastors and preachers out there, would 99.999% of them have to rise if someone asked, “Will the real false teacher please stand up?”

Pick an eschatological scenario, say a pre-trib, pre-millennial outlook. You’ve essentially just called every pastor who does not hold that view a false teacher. Personally, I don’t hold that end times view. Do I call every teacher who teaches what I don’t believe a heretic? Am I even uniquely qualified to make those determinations if hundreds of years of church history have been filled with better men than me wrestling with just those issues?

How many times has the pastor of your church ever said something that was even a fraction off? Is his ministry now disqualified? Is anyone not standing now?

Is John MacArthur a heretic because he’s a cessationist? Is Jack Hayford a false teacher because he’s nota cessationist? If you disagree with “The Bible Answer Man” Hank Hannegraf, are you doomed to forever wander the earth as an enemy of God? Preterist or Amillennialist? Sunday worship or Saturday worship? Who’s in and who’s out?

By now this post has gone on too long, so I’ll cut to the chase.

At what point do we extend grace to teachers and preachers on issues that divide Christians? My reading of the Bible shows that Paul usually only assailed those who were way out there on issues that most pastors or preachers today would affirm as deviant. Is there any wiggle room on some issues?

As much as I believe the Holy Spirit guides into all truth, I just as firmly believe that grace exists for us who teach and preach when we goof up. I know the standard is high, and here at Cerulean Sanctum I try not to ever go down routes that are far off the beaten path theologically. I try to stick with “The Main and the Plain.”

So what do you, those of you who enjoy coming to this blog, think about this issue? At what point does someone become a false teacher, and is there ever any grace for pastors and teachers who stray from the rock-solid truth?

The Frankengospel

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The bag of corn chips on the grocery store shelves trumpeted in bold print, "No GMOs! We use only 100% organic corn."

To many consumers, the rush to add the genetic material of jellyfish, mice, and whatever is the hot DNA of the day to our crops cruised in right under their radar. Here in the United States, most people took for granted that when they reached for a tomato at the grocery store they weren't buying a mutant loaded with the genes of something that had four legs and a complete lack of chlorophyll. But Genetically Modified Organisms (GMOs) are now the talk the world over as scientists play God with the very seeds that sprout into what we eat. Those who claim we are going down a slippery path with our tinkerings have labeled foods that no longer contain the DNA the Creator intended "Frankenfood" in honor of Mary Shelley's manmade monstrosity. But those folks in the white lab coats do not like having their ox gored. They will just as quickly note the innocent truth that they are merely striving for better disease resistance, hardiness, and yields.

There is another kind of food that we are turning into a similar crime against the Creator. We in the Church are taking the seed of the Lord's Good News and transmogrifying it into something utterly devoid of life.

Jesus told a parable:

Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured it. Other seed fell on rocky ground, where it did not have much soil, and immediately it sprang up, since it had no depth of soil. And when the sun rose it was scorched, and since it had no root, it withered away. Other seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it, and it yielded no grain. And other seeds fell into good soil and produced grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirtyfold and sixtyfold and a hundredfold.
—Mark 4:3-8 ESV

We in the American Church need to come to grips with one startling fact: The sower's success rate was only 25%. Three-quarters of all the seed that was sown was ultimately lost or proven unfruitful.

But as Americans, we figure we can always improve a process. As Christians, we like to only think positively, too. So in our effort to do better than Jesus' example in His parable, we've formed a few committees and come up with the perfect solution to that atrocious 75% lack of productivity on the part of the seed; we'll modify the kernel altogether. A little genetic tweaking here or there can only help the cause, right?

The reasoning seems innocent at first. If we can add something to the seed so that it overcomes being eaten by birds, scorched by the sun, and choked by weeds, we will solve the problem of that awful 75% loss. And if that doesn't work, we can always subtract something else if we believe it will accomplish our ultimate purpose.

The problem is that we have tried modifying the truth of Jesus Christ in order to boost its perceived retention rate, succeeding only in creating a "Frankengospel."

We've all seen and heard the Frankengospel. It is characterized by its lack of Jesus, His missing cross, no mention of repentance, and the absence of the Holy Spirit. By these omissions, churches have successfully excised the troublesome parts from the sower's seed. Other churches have tried to overcome the perceived lacks in the seed by adding miraculous marketing techniques, appropriated business seminar know-how, heaps and heaps of weepy-eyed love, and laser lightshows that leave the lost slackjawed at the sheer entertainment value of it all.

If only those slick modifications to the simple seed produced the desired fruit. But it doesn't take a ThD for us to see that the Church in this country has lost its way. The results of our tinkering? Barrenness. Our land is empty, but we refuse to stop sowing our monstrosity.

The simple truth is that we lost faith in the seed itself. We foolishly thought there was something wrong with the whole Gospel. The reality is that Jesus Himself two thousand years ago sowed His seed straight from His own lips and yet it was largely scorned; the birds, sun, and thorns did their evil work. Who are we to think we can improve on our Master? (And let us not forget to give thanks to the Lord for the remaining seed that fell on good soil!)

The only way to counteract the empty, fruitless land that confronts us in America is to sow only the good seed, every part of it, and to sow it with renewed abandon and commitment. We cannot hope to raise the percentage yield beyond what the Lord Himself did, but if each of us shared the whole Gospel of Jesus with enough people, we would each probably need just three of those people coming to salvation in our lifetimes in order to miraculously change the entire world for Christ.

We don't need a Frankengospel. All we need is the true Gospel, the life-giving whole of it, told with joy and enthusiasm, and empowered by the Spirit, to meet the Great Commission.