Gut Check #4

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Let's start the week with a bang. I think the number of American Christians who struggle with this gut check question is in the millions. Sadly, the answer for many people is yes.

Will you lose your standing at church
or the support of Christian family and friends
if you finally, publicly confess
the sin you've kept secret for years?

Protestantism broke from a corrupt Roman Catholic Church that turned Jesus into "Jesus and…." I don't support the idea that we need to add anything to Christ's finished work, so I don't support the RCC. However, if there's one area that the RCC has dealt with far better than any Protestant sect, it's in the area of confessing sins. 

Imagine always having a flesh and blood human being available to hear our confession! Although the usual advice to repeat some pointless "Hail Mary's" isn't the recipe for repentance, what do the Protestants offer? The Bible has this to say:

Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.
—James 5:16 ESV

Too few Christians are willing to hear another's confession, and even fewer are willing to confess. Yet what power, healing, and freedom resides in that confession!

I've known Christians who literally wound up institutionalized because they kept secret sin secret. A Gaboon viper in its typical surroundingsOr they worried that whatever they'd done was somehow treading on "unforgivable sin" territory.

In a way, who can blame them? We talk a lot about our sinfulness, but when someone sins in a way unfamiliar to our own experience, our first reaction is usually judgment.

Many years ago, a much younger Dan was part of a men's group. One day, we studied passages on confession and decided that we would confess our sins to each other. By the time it was all done, self-righteous me had been traumatized by the utter depravity of the guys around me. They shared things I couldn't even imagine, making my sins seem small.

However, as I grew older, I better realized the depths of my own depravity and saw that while my sins were indeed different than theirs, mine still deserved hell. The same Christ who cleansed me had cleansed those men, no matter how awful their confession might have been. In time I learned that none of us is pristine, even the most devout. There's not much difference between my 100 percent sin and their 100 percent sin, no matter what gradations we assign to a certain moral failure.

Too many of us learn the hard way on this one, though. We need to be more ready with grace and less with our high and mightyness, because that superiority we wield like a club is the reason so many are in bondage to secret sin.

The bulimic pastor's wife. The lauded Christian businessman who lies to clients. The self-help expert who hates herself. The porn addict. The judgmental. All need a grace-filled environment that encourages confession and remembers the Golden Rule.

Frankly, I think a private confession booth is a good thing. Our self-righteous attitude imprisons too many others in their jail of sin. Those folks need us to listen and offer grace first, not judgment.

I'm listening. The comment section is open—and during this series, anonymous. 

{Image: a Gaboon viper in its typical surroundings

 

Other posts in this series:

Spiritainment???

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The man whose soul is “growing” takes more interest in spiritual things every year…. The ways, and fashions, and amusements, and recreations of the world have a continually decreasing place in his heart. He does not condemn them as downright sinful, nor say that those who have anything to do with them are going to hell. He only feels that they have a constantly diminishing hold on his own affections and gradually seem smaller and more trifling in his eyes.
—J.C. Ryle

When amusement is necessary to get people to listen to the gospel there will be failure.  This is not the method of Christ.  To form an organization and provide all kinds of entertainment for young people, in order that they may come to the Bible classes, is to be foredoomed to failure.
—G. Campbell Morgan

One can only conclude that God’s professed children are bored with Him, for they must be wooed to meeting with a stick of striped candy in the form of religious movies, games and refreshments.
—A.W. Tozer

I’m writing two positive posts this week on what the American Church is doing right. In fact, I was going to start those posts today, but before the story got cold, I felt I had to tie in last Friday’s post “The Church of ‘Tomorrow? What Tomorrow’” with a press release from George Barna.

Barna’s announced that he’s now heading up a new Christian media company that promises to deliver even MORE entertainment to Christians everywhere. (Barna labels this “spiritainment.”) The argument here is that Christians NEED quality entertainment that looks and believes just like them. (Read the press release. I’ll wait right here….)

Beyond the obviously insulting, syncretistic name that combines the precious Holy Spirit with entertainment, Cover illustration from Postman's 'Amusing Ourselves to Death' I’ve just got  to ask the obvious: Do we Christians need to be any more entertained?

I struggle with this immensely as a Christian seeking to write novels. Does the world need another novel right now, Christian or otherwise? To lift a book title from the late media critic Neil Postman, aren’t we already amusing ourselves to death ?

This plays into my last post on the expediency plaguing the American Church. Too much of our thinking is short-term. Our dependency on short-term fixes is due in part to our inability to break out of a media-induced five minute attention span. Because we’re so focused on entertaining ourselves, long-term goals are out because they don’t meet our craving for instant feedback gained through our perpetual need for entertainment. The result? We’ve made boredom the ultimate spiritual enemy.

What better explains the megachurchianity so rampant in this country? We’ve substituted a dog and pony show to keep people entertained, but at the cost of their souls. Who can plan for any thing long-term if the mildly-satiated crowd demands another quick fix to keep the experiential buzz going? If God’s not going to rend the sky and rain manna down on us at our beck and call, then why hold prayer meetings? Why slave for years as a missionary in a foreign land if you only get a few converts? Your Powerpoint won’t be all that interesting when you share in church next Sunday. People might yawn—the evidence needed to show that your act needs some refining.

Revival isn’t going to come through movies, no matter what George Barna thinks. Nor books, though it pains me to say so. The Spirit of God isn’t all that interested in entertainment, Christian or worldly. He’s calling out to you and me to die to self so that others might live for Him.

We North American Christians…

…watch too much TV.

…waste too much time at the movies.

…drop too many dollars on music.

…spend too many hours trying to stave off boredom.

…spend too little time before the Lord living out the Gospel.

In short, we need “spiritainment” like we need an electric dog polisher. All this entertainment is a drug that keeps us numb to what we should truly be doing: serving the Lord Jesus until there is nothing left of us.

I’m not against Christians having fun once in a while. However, I believe that in the United States of 2006 the pursuit of fun has completely overtaken the pursuit of God, even among Christians.

Speaking of the pursuit of God, I’ll let A.W. Tozer speak eloquently here:

No one with common human feeling will object to the simple pleasures of life, nor to such harmless forms of entertainment as may help to relax the nerves and refresh the mind exhausted by toil. Such things, if used with discretion, may be a blessing along the way. That is one thing; however, the all-out devotion to entertainment as a major activity for which and by which men live is definitely something else again.

The abuse of a harmless thing is the essence of sin. The growth of the amusement phase of human life to such fantastic proportions is a portent, a threat to the souls of modern men. It has been built into a multimillion dollar racket with greater power over human minds and human character than any other educational influence on earth.

And the ominous thing is that its power is almost exclusively evil, rotting the inner life, crowding out the long eternal thoughts which would fill the souls of men, if they were but worthy to entertain them. The whole thing has grown into a veritable religion which holds its devotees with a strange fascination; and a religion, incidentally, against which it is now dangerous to speak. For centuries the Church stood solidly against every form of worldly entertainment, recognizing it for what it was—a device for wasting time, a refuge from the disturbing voice of conscience, a scheme to divert attention from moral accountability.

For this she got herself abused roundly by the sons of this world. But of late she has become tired of the abuse and has given over the struggle. She appears to have decided that if she cannot conquer the great god Entertainment she may as well join forces with him and make what use she can of his powers.

So, today we have the astonishing spectacle of millions of dollars being poured into the unholy job of providing earthly entertainment for the so-called sons of heaven. Religious entertainment is in many places rapidly crowding out the serious things of God.

Many churches these days have become little more than poor theaters where fifth-rate “producers” peddle their shoddy wares with the full approval of evangelical leaders who can even quote a holy text in defense of their delinquency. And hardly a man dares raise his voice against it.

I haven’t read too many critical voices of Barna’s call for “spiritainment.” Add mine; I see this as little more than a solution to a problem that doesn’t exist. Don’t label me a prophet here, but I can’t help but think this “spiritainment” is all going to turn out very badly in the end.

Leer and Foaming in Las Wendy’s

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Oh yeah, THAT poster...The three of them stood at the Wendy’s counter. Eyes would flit off in one direction, then the guy closest to me would look me square in the face for a nanosecond before returning to that object of fixation.

My son and I had stopped for lunch at this Wendy’s on our way home from a visit to the doctor. Eerily quiet place. None of the customers said a word, though at least fifteen people sat at the tables.

I finally followed the blank stare of those three young male employees after one overfilled a drink, his attention shattered. What consumed their thoughts?

A table of four 50-ish men, a table of two teenage guys, then two construction guys over in the corner, a table with a stunning example of the female of the species, a table of….

Oh. Oh my.

That male instinct kicked in and my head immediately swiveled back a table for one brief second. When I snapped back around to pick up my food, the tallest counter guy greeted me with one of those smiles.

She was about 19 or 20, a gorgeous young brunette, shades of Jennifer Connelly at about that age. Wearing a pair of loose bell-bottoms and a peasant blouse, she munched casually on her meal, oblivious to the stares she drew.

Her choice of outfit was perfectly acceptable on the average woman. The church pastor’s wife could wear that same outfit to the church picnic and no one would think twice. But on this young woman, the ensemble bordered on obscene.

My son, of course, picked a table right next to hers. He seems to have that affinity for beautiful women, so I positioned myself so she wasn’t in my field of view. This left me with the perfect chance to watch the other men in the restaurant—and besides her, it was only men.

The 50-year-olds, all of whom could have been her father (as could I), stole glances like kangaroos popping up to scan for predators. The oldest of them gave a leering chuckle every so often. The table of teen guys practically foamed at the mouth and stared…and stared…and stared…. A man sitting by himself with what looked to me like a Christian book, finally spotted her, then raised his book over his eyes, only to drop it surreptitiously twice every minute to steal a peek. The construction guys said nothing and, believe it or not, appeared uncomfortable. A few guys sat behind me, so I couldn’t watch them, but I could guess their behavior.

No one said a word.

When she finally dumped her trash and walked out, an audible sigh rose up among every guy there, and they started laughing and talking among themselves for the first time since we’d sat down ten minutes before. The table of 50-year-olds proved to have Aussie accents. Two of them looked my way with one of those “Did you see her?!” expressions that’s universal among men.

A whole host of posts on modesty have sprung up in recent days on Godblogs everywhere. Everyone feels compelled to comment on the fashions worn by women today, especially as the weather heats up and the clothing shrinks to beanbag-sized swaths of fabric strategically placed.

No matter where you turn, someone pontificates about modesty and which fashions are wrong and which are right. Lists of approved styles are posted, and everyone feels better about being the modesty police.

Useless. All of it.

Modesty isn’t necessarily in clothing. That young woman in Wendy’s could’ve been in a burlap sack and men would’ve gaped at her nonetheless. We could give her Godblog fashion advice till we’re blue in the face and she’d still be slaying guys in her Gothard-approved denim skirt, formless white blouse, and flat, white tennis shoes.

Modesty begins in the heart of both the clothes wearer and the watcher. You can put a prostitute in a tasteful evening gown, but she’s still a prostitute. Clean up the inside and the outside changes by default.

People complain about today’s sex-soaked culture. However, I lived through the 1970s, and I can vouch that the summer fashions then were far more lascivious than the standard attire of most folks now. But even then, not all of the standard modesty advice worked. We modesty police can recommend that women spurn bikinis and go with the tasteful one-piece, but I recall that Farrah Fawcett wore a maillot in her famous ’70s-era poster and that didn’t keep a gazillion teenage boys from plastering her poster up on their walls.

No, the outside is not the source of the problem.

The biggest lie in American Christianity consists of 30 percent of Christian men admitting they’ve seen pornographic images. The truth is that the other 70 percent are too ashamed to admit it. Our entire culture is pornographic, so how can anyone say they’ve never seen such a thing? Or just as bad, thought such a thing?

No matter what we preach about modesty, too many of us are running around with unclean hearts. Sure, your pastor’s heart may be 99 percent clean, but God’s still concerned about that remaining one percent.

Most of us would long to be 99 percent clean inside, but our shame over only being 15, 27, or 45 percent becomes the hidden secret that no one lets on. Instead, most of us are like the guy in that Wendy’s who hid behind his Christian book, but made sure he didn’t lose out of the fun, either.

I suspect that more men will read this than women.  To you, I ask: What is it going to take for us to move beyond where we currently are with respect to modesty? Given the society we live in, we’re at a supreme disadvantage with regard to modesty, but that’s still no excuse.

To the women, though, I want to ask how we got to this Girls Gone Wild culture we have today, where so many young women act like hookers. Is it solely the fault of lousy fathers? What’s more sad than a 40-year-old woman with a strategically placed tattoo who dresses like her teenage daughter? Shouldn’t modesty accumulate in the heart over time? At least a little?

I feel for a young woman as physically attractive as that one in Wendy’s because she’ll inevitably attract jerks and probably scare off the kind of decent guy she deserves. But regaling her with the kind of clothing we approve is not going to change her lot unless those of us around her change on the inside.

Yes, put a modest young woman in some Frederick’s of Hollywood get-up and she’ll lose some of that modesty. But clothing is not the only issue here.  It’s the simple answer, but not the one that strikes at the heart of the matter.