Still-in-the-Red Friday? – Further Thoughts

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Last Friday, after witnessing parking lots lacking the usual Black Friday crush of cars at local malls and shopping centers, I wondered if this holiday shopping season would disappoint retailers and further depress our struggling economy. I wrote “Still-in-the-Red Friday?” and closed my post by asking if the Church is ready for the economic issues coming our way.

If you’re a regular reader, you know that I take the position that God tabbed the Church to do the work of ministry. Yeah, you...Yes, He may rain manna from heaven for the starving, but since the Church was established, His primary means to meet needs is for the Church to meet them. That’s the plan, folks. You can’t read the New Testament and miss that very important fact. (I’ve quoted all the relevant Scriptures in dozens of previous posts. We should all know them anyway.)

What does a Church look like that doesn’t read the signs of the times? What does a Church look like that isn’t prepared to continue to meet the needs of others when times are brutally hard?

I can’t remember quoting a comment in toto, but David Riggins wrote an epic in response to last Friday’s post. I think it encapsulates the issue perfectly:

Interesting the confusion regarding how the Church faces reality. When economic hardships come, people lose their jobs, and when they have no income, they lose their homes. With the current stupidity regarding credit and its uses, people will lose their jobs and homes at a rapid rate. Two million sub-prime ARM loans are up for adjustment in the next 8 months. Those upward adjustments will often add 30% to the current payment those people are paying. Most of those people won’t be able to afford the higher monthly payments, putting $600 billion in bad loans on the books of already tightly stretched lenders like Countrywide. The loan industry has already lost 100,000 jobs in the last six months.

Each of those jobs is responsible for an average of four other jobs in the private sector, from auto salespeople to the bagger at Kroger. With the continuing collapse of the housing sector, home builders will start to go under, following the example of Neumann Homes in Illinois, which filed for bankruptcy protection this month. As more and more sectors of our economy are affected, an estimated 3 million jobs could be lost. This isn’t about spending more to motivate the economy, this is about making sure that what you spend actually has an effect on our economy. What you spend at Wal-Mart, Target, Circuit City or Home Depot lines the pockets of businesses from China to Indonesia, but little of it stays here. The credit used to buy housing is a commodity that pays for the estimated $18 billion net income of the major trading houses on Wall Street, where bonuses are expected to be down 5% from the average $136,580 in 2006. And this is a “bad year. It trickles down, but nothing like it flows up.

All this can be directly attributed to a lack of action on the part of the Church. Our society is corrupt because the Church is corrupt. Greed has run rampant, not merely in the corridors of power and money, but in the desire of the the Church to be seen as relevant and growing. We have created cults centered on charismatic pastors and exciting music, and have abandoned our role.

Is the church ready to take care of the people in the body who will lose their jobs, their homes, their savings? Are we willing to take people into our homes when they’ve lost theirs? If we don’t, who will? Is the Church ready to feed the homeless, provide care for the widow and orphan? As the mortgage crisis wipes out retirement funds, will we take care of the elderly who now only have social security?

I know most church-goers would scoff as these concerns. These are, after all, the responsibility of the government.

Not according to God, they aren’t. And ultimately, it is God we will answer to. I know that, personally, I am not ready to do anything to help anyone. I also know that our church is certainly not ready, and beyond a food pantry for the holidays, has no plan for taking care of the needy, either within or without our congregation. As conditioned as I am to clarion call of independence, I would find it hard to take care of someone who didn’t plan for hardship. It’s only by the grace of God that my family made it through the jobless times we’ve faced. It certainly wasn’t through the help of the “body.

Soon, the entire country could be facing the same situation that Ohio is in, with unemployment up over 7%, but this time, the price of fuel will be triple what it was in the last recession, and that will affect the price of everything else. Are you ready? Is your church? This is about looking out for your neighbor, and making sure they have what they need. This is about making sure your Church body is focused on meeting the real needs of the body, not bottle feeding the 200 pound infants.

We need to grow up, and it seems that we are about to enter one of those times when we either grow, or wither on the vine and get pruned.

Regardless of how well retailers do this Christmas shopping season, the issue remains: Are we as a Church the five wise virgins or the five foolish ones? Are we the Church who by prophetic word hears of the famine to come and prepares for it (Acts 11:38-40)? Are we hearing from God during the fat years so we are prepared for the lean years?

And so what if the lean years don’t come in 2008 or 2080. The issue is Are we ready?

Leonard Ravenhill once said,

The Church today wants to be raptured from responsibility.

That’s a stunning thought on dozens of different levels. Perhaps it even explains why we are not preparing as we should.

What will happen in our churches when we have dozens of unemployed families without medical insurance? What happens when someone in one of those families undergoes a medical emergency and gets stuck with a huge medical bill? What are we doing to be the church known for supernatural healings should that become the only means by which most people receive medical treatment?

As David mentioned above, what happens when people lose homes should the economy go down the tubes? What will your church do? What do you have in place right now to address that issue? And if your church has nothing in place, why not?

What will happen to evangelism when we’re trying to keep our heads down at work to lessen the chances of being the one pink-slipped when the inevitable downsizings come? Are our churches ready to pick up the pieces when our frontline people take that kind of hit? Or will that be chalked up to “the cost of doing ministry” with us leaving those frontliners to struggle in the aftermath?

We went through a precursor the last recession, which many believed lasted almost five years. What if the next recession is eight years and far deeper? It may have been your neighbor who got whacked last time. Tough for him, right? What if it’s you this time? What happens when you turn to your brothers and sisters in Christ and they look the other way?

What happens when the lost, people without the hope we have in Christ and without membership in the Body of Christ, come to us desperate for help and direction? Do we toss them a Bible and say, “Be warm and filled,” because we didn’t take our own membership in the Body of Christ seriously enough to seek the Lord so we knew in advance how He would have us prepare?

I’m not fearmongering here. What I’m doing is asking why the American Church is oblivious to these issues. Rather than being proactive, we’re reactive—and long after the damage has been done. We can’t continue to be so unprepared.

It’s not enough to say, “God will provide,” when the means by which He’s chosen to provide is asleep at the switch.

I ask again, “Church, are we ready?”

Holy Man, Earthy Man

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'Wellies are stripey for a reason' by Dan FoyReaders of this blog know that I write about down-to-earth subject matter. More than just about anything, I hope to see the Kingdom of God increasingly oust the kingdom of this world (and its chthonic ruler).

But it strikes me as odd that so many of us American Christians, as much as we assimilate the world’s methods of operation and thinking, still erect sacred/secular divides. Many of us think nothing of spending an entire weekend browsing for yet more stuff at the local mall, but should anyone talk of helping the world’s poor find economic justice, that poor soul gets branded as a minister of the “social gospel” or part of some sect of Christianity somehow gone to theological seed.

I guess I don’t understand the hypocrisy of the typical heavenly-minded suburban Christian loading up her shopping cart with pre-Black-Friday deals that only tie her to the world, then having her say, “You’re taking your eyes off Jesus if you talk about fighting for people’s jobs.” Talking about earthy truths somehow can’t be viewed as having any relevance to the Church’s ultimate mission.

Yet I can’t read the Bible as some kind of gnostic document that imagines the physical world doesn’t exist. Most of the Law consists of bringing truth into the everyday earth-bound problems people faced. I can’t read the compelling tales of the early Church in action and not see that right away they’re addressing the down-to-earth problems of simple people. So the Hellenists complain that their widows aren’t getting the same attention as the rest. Do the apostles blow them off as social gospel advocates or worldly advocates of taking one’s eyes off Jesus to stare at the mundane? No, they do something about the problem.

Hey, I can pray for hours on end if need be, but come Wednesday night, I still must take a garbage can down to the curb. I can’t pretend while in some spiritual swoon that I can just forget about paying my taxes. As much as Jesus might love me, I’d still wind up in jail for tax evasion. And I’m sure that instead of being immaterial, those cold, steel bars would feel plenty solid in my hands.

Jesus didn’t think it was too smart to build one’s house on sand, and I’m sure His hearers agreed, even if they didn’t initially get the deeper spiritual point being made. That parable of the heavenly world makes sense only because Jesus tied it to the earthbound world. In fact, Jesus perpetually ties the spiritual and secular together. He Himself embodies the dissolving of the sacred/secular divide. He is the God Man.

I’m sorry, but when I hear people superspiritualizing Christianity, disconnecting it from its dust-laden incarnation, it makes me want to scream. I don’t get how people can spend all weekend in church, pray and read the Bible for hours on end, drop Jesus into every conversation they have with the lost, yet somehow think it’s too worldly to consider helping the down-and-out neighbor family get their car fixed.

I’m making no apologies: I’ll expose that kind of hypocrisy every opportunity I get.

It’s not enough to think we’ve got our vertical relationship (with God) down pat. We’ve got to get the horizontal one (with people) fixed, too. And being horizontal means that we graciously fix the problems here on this skubalon-encrusted world—and we do that fixing in Jesus’ name armed with Holy Spirit power.

As we go into the week of Thanksgiving, just what are we thankful for? God knows that I am thankful for Jesus and all He did for me and for you. I’m thankful as all get-out for every spiritual truth God surrendered His Son to live and die for. I’m thankful that Christ embodies all that I can every want or need. But I’m also thankful for the wooden roof over my head and the clothes in my drawer. I thank God for the flesh-and-blood woman He saw fit to give me and the little package of snips, snails, and puppy-dog tails that is my son. I thank Him for the land outside the four walls of this house, land that provides us food, and reminds me in its tree-pounding woodpeckers, slimy-cool salamanders, and sky-tickling walnut trees that God is Creator and King of All.

And I thank God that He saw fit not to take me up to heaven in a fiery chariot the second I placed my faith in Jesus. He has a mission for me here. Sometimes that mission will include helping a lost person find his way to salvation in Christ. Sometimes that mission will find me pounding a nail in the frame of a house destined for someone who couldn’t afford a home unless Christians like me stepped in and made it possible. It means I get to pray on behalf of a brother. And it means that the prayer I pray may be that this brother and his wife find more opportunities to get away from the kids so they can get wild in the sack without interruption. It may even mean my wife and I watch those kids to make that possible.

I can be a holy man of God by being an earthy man of God. There is no distinction:

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.
—2 Corinthians 4:7-10

Church, this week, manifest Jesus to someone else. And do so any way that seems right by the Holy Spirit’s leading.

I’ll be taking the rest of the week off from blogging. See you all here on Monday the 26th. May our Lord bless you abundantly this Thanksgiving.

What the Other Guys Taught Me

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I talk a lot about intrachurch community here at Cerulean Sanctum, but not as much about the kind of community that spans denominations. Today’s post rectifies that lack.

Leonard Ravenhill, the great British revivalist (and one of the patron saints of this blog) was fond of wordplay. One of his favorite tricks follows:

“…that’s not the kind of message you’ll hear today in our religious abominations…er, denominations.”

As much as I love Ravenhill for his wit and spiritual depth, I’m not to the point of calling our denominations abominations. Fact is, I’ve learned a considerable amount from the denominations I’ve interacted with since coming to Christ.

  • From the Lutherans, I learned about Jesus (for the first time), grace, and the priesthood of all believers.
  • From the Assemblies of God, I learned about the power of the Holy Spirit for service.
  • From the Presbyterians, I learned about the authority of the Scriptures.
  • From the Disciples of Christ, I learned about holiness.
  • From the Methodists, I learned about fellowship.
  • From the Evangelical Free Church, I learned about the necessity of a Christian worldview.
  • From the Vineyard, I learned about evangelism through service and how to listen to the Holy Spirit.
  • From the Pentecostals, I am learning the depth and breadth of what Christ did for me through the cross and what that means for how I view myself and others.

If this makes me a “mongrel in the Faith,” then I’m a mongrel. In defense of mongrels, I’ll say this much: we aren’t prone to genetic diseases that afflict the purebreds, and we’re certainly not inbred to the point of weakness.

I learned all those different aspects of the faith from those different denominations largely because each denomination has found a handful of specific truths in the Scriptures that they latched onto and defended with tooth and nail. Even a black sheep gives woolSuch is the specialist aspect of Christianity today, but still. Someone defended truth and held it up as an example, even if it was just a small piece of a larger whole.
In truth, how can we not fall into these little groups? I’m not sure that such a division was inevitable when the Christian Church sprang to life, but I suppose the über-sovereigntist would argue that God planned it that way all along. We wouldn’t agree. I can see Ravenhill’s point. A fractured Body is a fractured Body.

Still, considering the tribal nature of human beings, I’m not surprised that we continue to fall into tribes of people who believe, look, and act like each other. That this also marks our churches should come as no surprise. We feel most comfortable in a community that looks like us. As for me, I’m thankful that I’ve been a part of enough Christian groups that don’t look exactly like me that I’m comfortable with a wide-variety of Christian experience. Even then, I’ll say that not every one is my exact cup of tea.

We need the proper perspective: heaven isn’t going to be tribal. I highly suspect that it won’t reflect our own idiosyncratic groups, but reflect the entirety of every tongue and every nation. The divisions won’t mean anything anymore.

All this brings me back to the great philosopher Rodney King who once said:

“People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along?”

Well, can we?

As someone coming from a charismatic perspective, it always hurts to see fellow believers absolutely foam at the mouth and lash out with every verbal weapon they possess when it comes to the whole issue of the charismata working today. The worst part of that is the anger and accusations get leveled at people as opposed to ideas.

In any theological battle royale, people lurk behind every idea. So even if an idea is wrong, there’s still a person who holds it. For us Christians, that should matter more than it seems to.

When I discuss things with people who have ideas different than mine, I do keep up a mental fence to screen out ideas that violate Scripture. The difference is I still try to listen. Too many Christians out there stick their fingers in their ears and start screaming, “Nah, nah, nah, I’m not listening.” And that’s a darned shame.

So the Nazarene guy and I are not going to agree on the charismata. It doesn’t mean I treat him like crap. It also means he may have insights into a portion of theology and the practice of the Faith that I lack. But if we start gouging out each other’s eyes because our theology doesn’t align perfectly in every minute detail, then we’ve lost the real battle and let Satan win. And Satan gets too many wins nowadays.

I can’t imagine what my faith would be like today if I never experienced those other denominations. I wish true Christianity wasn’t as fractured as we’ve made it, but what it is, it is this side of heaven. I don’t see a reversal of that trend until the Lord returns.

This isn’t a call to ecumenism. I don’t support the current incarnation of the ecumenical movement because it gives away the farm in order to get the cow. That’s not wisdom and right fellowship. Some things about our Faith are givens (like the divinity of Christ and His salvific uniqueness), but I’m willing to listen on some of the smaller points.

Most of all, I’m willing to love my neighbor. Love overcomes a great deal, even mistaken ideals.

The “other guys” in that Christian church across the street have something to teach us. Are we listening?