“Unshackling the American Church” Series Announcement

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Rarely do I read a book that leaves me saying “Amen” after every sentence. More amazing is the fact that this book, while it does deal with Christian thought and living, resides in the Politics section of your average secular bookstore. So dead-on accurate is the content, though, that I’m considering starting a new category of Essential Reading in my sidebar just to house it.

Long-time readers know that I take great care to avoid bringing politics into this blog. But this book is not so much a tome on politics as it is on living a sacramental lifestyle that goes beyond the glitz and gloss of modern-day Evangelicalism in America to a new vision of life that is truly ancient.Rod Dreher's Crunchy Cons

The book? Crunchy Cons by Rod Dreher.

Dreher’s released one for the ages. In fact, this book is so good that I’m hacked off at him for writing it because what he’s penned is the next book I had planned to write (although mine was aimed more squarely at the Church).

The gist of this book explores a little-known tribe living in the United States: Political conservatives, usually Evangelical Christians, who are dropping out of the rat race by going back to traditional ways of life that existed in pre-Industrial-Revolution America. Anyone who’s caught my epic The Christian & the Business World series is well-acquainted with my views on the dire need for Christians to rise up and question our lifestyles, the non-stop, community-destroying, materialistic live-for-today zeitgeist we’ve adopted indiscriminantly.

As the subtitle proclaims, the book gathers under its wings the disenfranchised out there who firmly believe that conserving the family unit, better stewarding creation, restoring genuine community, and overseeing local market economies by restoring America’s agrarian heritage, will recapture the essence of what it means to live a full life that honors God, family, neighbor, and country.

Weeping is not my normal reaction to reading anything, but this book has so far uncorked a torrent in me. And while too many Christians in America brush all this off as utopian nonsense—even as they adjust the volume on their latest in a string of iPods and munch on genetically-modified tasteless veggies—I’m imploring readers of this book to check it out, if only for the first few chapters.

Despite the finale of the subtitle, I’m personally not interested in saving the Republican Party, but I am for saving conservative values—even if truly conservative values look more like some of the elements of the Left than the Right. The kind of conservativism championed by Edmund Burke in no way bears any resemblance to the “free-markets-at-any-cost” stupidity we see enshrined by today’s GOP, but that’s okay. If enough of us drop out of the prevailing societal madness, someone will notice and want to court our vote.

Though Dreher’s beaten me to the punch, I know that you know I’ve been talking these points for a while, so in concert with my reading of Crunchy Cons, I’ll be starting a series called “Unshackling the American Church” that will further examine many of the issues I’ve touched on at Cerulean Sanctum, ideas that dovetail with Dreher’s book.

Stay tuned. I promise a mind—and possibly soul—altering ride.

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Other posts in the “Unshackling the American Church” series:

Why I Love My Church

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LUVCHRCH License PlateWishing to counter the sanguine nature of last Friday’s “downer” post (“Killing the Messenger“) with something not only more upbeat, but in defense of good churches, today I reveal why I love my church.

Cerulean Sanctum is a blog about helping the Church in America be the best Church she can be. As such, it can be critical, but I pray that one of the distinctives of this blog is that I don’t criticize solely to criticize. If I don’t have at least a solution or two, I typically stay mum on an issue. Sadly, you can’t throw a dead 404 link on the Web without hitting a Christian blog that is critical for no other reason than to be critical. If this blog ever gets to that point, I’ll shut it down because it will no longer be honoring to God.

God doesn’t need more whiners and moaners; He needs a glorious Church.

I go to Clear Mountain Community Church in Williamsburg, Ohio. It’s an independent Pentecostal church that is one of the most unusual churches I’ve ever encountered. What makes it unique is that it is a church merge (as opposed to a split—that in itself is rarer), but it’s the merger of a Pentecostal church and a Church of Christ. Yeah, you read that right. I’ve been there a year-and-a-half and I still can’t believe it.

But the Spirit of God makes it work. That combination makes the church exceptionally strong in that the diversity of folks in the church mitigates the weaknesses of both those traditions, allowing the better aspects to shine through. While some churches have theological blind spots, ours is better than some in reducing that due to the merger.

There’s usually a social disparity in those two traditions, too, but the merger has broadened the demographic swath from what would normally be found in a Pentecostal church or Church of Christ. You’ll find farmers and engineers, hairdressers and scientists, rich and poor in our church, all in a mix that’s probably better than any church I’ve been in. (Our lack is the fact that we’re about 98% white, but then so is the neighborhood for miles around—rural areas in the Midwest aren’t known for their racial diversity.)

Some churches have elders of varying quality, but ours are uniformly outstanding and from a wide variety of backgrounds. Our church has been through a lot, including losing the previous pastor to colon cancer in his mid-forties after what seemed like a total healing. But the elders held the church together after the death of the pastor and other tough losses, and this not long after the merger. That says quite a bit about the character of the men involved They made it work by the grace of God.

Our current pastor was one of those elders. He’s been in that church for more than twenty-five years. I like that—a lot. Any church that can hire from within has a successful discipleship program. Too many churches have such poor educational programs they couldn’t raise up a pastor from within if they used a crane. Our pastor is the real deal, though. He brings the added benefit, at least in my opinion, of not having been professional clergy all his life. He worked for a tire company, so he understands the working man’s existence.

He also understands the Scriptures and preaches Bible-laden sermons. My wife and I first visited the church back in December of 2004 and one of the elders told us that they’d called a new pastor. When one of the elders got up and preached a sermon that impressed me greatly, taught me a few things I hadn’t heard before (and I couldn’t remember the last time that had been the case), and generally placed a fire in my heart, I told my wife it was a shame they couldn’t make this guy the pastor. His command of Scripture was excellent and he preached the Gospel with no hesitancy of mixing in the tough parts with the nice ones. Little did I know we were in for a pleasant surprise!

Pastor Mark hadn’t even been installed when we got an invitation to come to his house for a home-cooked meal. We’d been at the church for two weeks and he and his wife were already inviting us over. (If you’re a pastor reading this, that’s a strong hint right there!) He was installed the next Sunday, and the next day we were the first guests he and his wife had over after being made official. I can’t tell you how much that meant to us.

It’s the single biggest strength of my church: genuine concern for people. The retired pastor (of the Church of Christ portion of the church from before the merger) and his wife went out of their way to show us around and talk with us in the cafe after the service was over. All the elders introduced themselves and talked with us. We made several acquaintances that first Sunday who have gone on to become good friends.

I watch the folks in my church and most do an excellent job of talking with newcomers, letting folks know that we’re so glad they chose to worship with us. Megachurches that pride themselves on being friendly should stop by our church sometime to see how it’s really done. Our church has fellowship lunches after the service at least once a month, and more like two and a half times a month during the summer. The men’s breakfasts are well-attended and the women’s ministry is strong. Everyone takes pride in the church as a body of worshiping believers and you can see the love not only for the regulars, but also the new folks and the visitors. We’re not afraid of our “special people”, either. I’ve been in churches that try to hide their “weaker parts,” but at our church, we’re not ashamed of those folks who are different. In fact, we treat them just like we treat everyone else.

And as my church is giving of their persons, they’re also giving of their money. I’m routinely astounded by how much money this church can raise for benevolences to others. We’re not big and we’re not rich, but folks put their money where their faith is. After some of the things my church has been through, at another church it would have been a financial death knell. But not here. Very generous people.

Very generous in speaking about Jesus, too. People at my church would never expect the pastor to be the only one witnessing. They’re out there speaking about Christ to others. Huge supporters of missionaries and other ministries, too. An understanding exists that it’s not “our church” and “their church”—we’re all believers in Christ—so however the word gets out is fine, even if it means that someone besides us benefits.

Charismatic and rural can tend toward some charismania, but there’s not a whole lot to see. Sure, there’s a few things that maybe go an eensy bit overboard, but I’ve seen a lot worse. What I appreciate so much about the folks in my church, though, is that they don’t go the other way, tightening down the hatches so tight that the Holy Spirit can’t work. Everyone understands freedom in Christ is not license, yet it’s still freedom. That’s so refreshing to find a Pentecostal church in a rural area that isn’t tied down by legalism.

And lastly, I appreciate the willingness of the leadership to acknowledge people’s gifts and ask them to lead. There’s a gratefulness for everyone who contributes, and also a willingness to let someone else take the reins. There was a mix-up with a speaker we had scheduled for today and one of the “laypeople” in the church was asked to preach in his stead. You don’t see that too often.

Our church is firmly open to God’s direction. There’s a rare expectancy compared with many of the churches I’ve been affiliated with over the years. We earnestly desire to meet the Lord in worship and we know He’s going to do miracles. I’ve seen so many positive, godly things occur since we’ve been there that it’s hard not to think that every day will be better than the one before. We’re baptizing folks, the Gospel’s being preached, and we’re growing. Sure, we’ve got about 300 people there now, but that’s up probably fifty since we came on. Easter brought in almost 380.

I love my church. I’m grateful to God that He led us there after we wondered if good churches still existed. Do we have issues? Certainly. But the thing that impresses me about my church is the willingness to address those issues and act to fix them.

So if you stop by Cerulean Sanctum and read one of my blistering critiques of what is going on in the Church in America and think that I’m just a church-basher, know this: I love my church. Great churches like mine do exist. And more than that, I love the big “C” Church and pray only the best for Her.

Do you love your church? Leave a comment here and let us all know what you love about your church. And if you’re looking for a church, mine’s not perfect, but we’re blessed in many ways and God is moving in us. What more could we ask for?

Have a blessed week this week.

Killing the Messenger

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I met with a friend the other day for lunch. He's a good man with plenty of God-given vision for the Kingdom, but he's discouraged.

My friend is discouraged for many of the same reasons I discuss in posts here at Cerulean Sanctum. He sees the problems in the American Church today, but rather than dwelling on them, he works toward solutions. He loves the Church and wants only the best for Her, yet he's had a rough time finding a place that will appreciate his talents. Instead, he's found a lot of the business world in the Church, where people in leadership positions, when confronted with problems, would rather let innocent underlings die by the sword than to be responsible men and fall on it themselves.

As I listened to my friend, it struck me how alike we are in what we see and understand. It's like we were thinking the exact same thoughts at the exact same time. I found myself nodding my head the second he opened his mouth to talk about an issue because I knew precisely what he was going to say; I would have said it that same way, too.

The difference between the two of us is that my friend is still actively pursuing a life in the ministry. I, on the other hand, tired of the gamesmanship, the unwillingness to look beyond the ordinary, and the perpetual confrontations with people lacking vision, got out.

I don't say that with any malice toward any one person or any single church. The cumulative barrage is what hurts over time, particularly for those people who by God's design are the square pegs in the round holes.

Not too long ago, I interviewed for a pastoral position at a respected church. The pastor was clearly a man who pushed the envelope and was wholly unsatisfied with the status quo. I didn't agree with every move he made, but you could tell he was on the right iconoclastic path. Sadly, during my first interview, I realized his board did not share the same vision.

When asked how I defined "spiritual growth", I made the mis-step of defining my view by opening with what it was so obviously not: keisters in seats. On this, the pastor and I wholeheartedly agreed. Someone forgot to clue the board in, though. The laser death beams that drilled about two dozen holes in me revealed the truth. To the board, it was ALL about packing 'em in.

Same planet, different worlds.

I really don't know how those folks get in positions of power in our American churches, but somehow they do. You can stamp folks like that out of a mold, put a certain regional dialect on their lips, and plop them in church leadership roles around the country—sometimes I think that's how they're made, devilishly manufactured in secret government cloning tubs in a lab outside Poughkeepsie.

For those godly people who have a better vision, the small-minded are everywhere. More often than not, they're standing in the way, doing everything they can to secure their own kingdom at the expense of the bigger Kingdom.

But what to do?

My friend and I were on the same path at one time, but broken and battered, I got off. Am I happy with that decision? Not really. It leads to the inevitable question of what might have been. But then I see my friend, a man wholly sold out to God, and I see the utter discouragement on his face and I wonder. More than anything I pray that some church that hasn't been infiltrated by small kingdom people will recognize the goldmine, will see the prophet, and turn him loose to do the thing that God so desires to do through him.

You can't peer into the holy depths of a Jeremiah and know every emotion of his every day. Who understood him except God? Who consoled him except his Creator? To not seek the approval of men is to exact a cost that too few of us are willing to pay. Certainly small-minded, small kingdom people can't understand that cost.

More than anything else, I pray that God would blow those small kingdomites off their perch, like a carpenter blows sawdust off his work. I've seen too many godly people shot down in flames, not because they were wrong, but because they were so excruciatingly right about problems and the solutions needed to fix them that no one could tolerate their correctness.

Opposition from the world is to be expected. But opposition from the Church? That's a sting no anesthetic will soothe.

Today, I'm sad for my friend. I wonder why so many good people suffer at the hands of the very people they seek to serve.

Hmm. Sounds achingly familiar, doesn't it?

{Image: The Stoning of Stephen by Pietro da Cortona}