Maturity

Advertising Ashes

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Man on fire

You never have to advertise a fire. —Leonard Ravenhill

Are you growing increasingly distressed by the worldly attempts by many churches today to market their church? Does the latest church fad sweeping the nation leave you cold? Are you growing nostalgic for "the olden days" when a preacher would walk into the pulpit and by the unction of God set the place ablaze?

Now that everyone in the United States has a blog—it seems like it, doesn't it?—I read an increasing number of sites that are advertising that they have the solution to whatever the Church's problem is. We all know what the problems are. Just a glance at the Top 25 bestselling Christian books in your local Christian bookstore will tell you:

  • Your church needs better marketing.
  • Your church needs to understand community demographics better.
  • Your church needs to have purpose/mission.
  • Your church needs to be relevant.
  • Your church needs to be authentic.
  • Your church needs to reach out to whatever group of people it's failed to reach in the past.
  • Your church needs to be concerned with end-times prophecy.
  • Your church needs to have a better men's/women's/youth/children's ministry.
  • Your church needs __________.

In a charismatic age, when even the crustiest Presbyterians are raising their hands in worship, how is it that we have forgotten the only thing the Church needs? Why have we forgotten the Holy Spirit?

You never have to advertise a fire. That's the answer to all these books clamoring for attention, trying to get you to buy to find out the "Super Secret Christian Formula" that will suddenly take you, your family, and your church to the absolute pinnacle of Christian experience.

Yet nothing draws people like a fire. You see a fire, you immediately start wanting to linger, to see what is burning, to watch what happens next. Fire evoke memories of stories told while camping, the community around bathed in the amber glow of timelessness and wonder. Fire heals, cleanses, and illumines. It spreads and envelops.

If there is any one characteristic of the Church in America in 2005 it is that for all our bluster, our bestselling fixes, and our introspection over the failure of believers to rise above the secular mire, no other answer can come but that we need the fire of God poured out on us.

John Eldredge, bestselling author of Wild at Heart, claims that men find church boring. David Morrow recently wrote Why Men Hate Going to Church. I have the simple answer for that: they are not encountering the Holy Spirit in the churches they attend. Someone who regularly attends a church that is filled with people overflowing with the Holy Spirit and who experiences the Holy Spirit in power in those meetings will NEVER be bored and will NEVER hate gathering.

But this is not most churches.

Ever heard of the aviator cults? These were primitive people who lived in remote areas untouched by modernity. As aviation grew, these tribal people started seeing huge, unusual birds in the sky. They were a sign. And some of those tribesmen were startled when a metal bird descended from the clouds and tall, white people emerged from their bellies. These people were like the gods themselves. So when the gods got back into their metal birds and flew away, the tribesmen were compelled to erect effigies of them and the odd bird they came in. Totemic planes built of reeds were set up in hopes that the gods would some day return and bless the people. This persisted for generations.

Today, our churches resemble aviator cults. We have a vague memory of generations ago when God showed up in our churches in power. But as time goes on, the story breaks down, the reason for it becomes muddied, and we start dancing around trying to make the aviator gods return. Churches do this in a variety of ways. Most churches entertain, rely on clever marketing campaigns to put posteriors in the pews, or scour the demographic data to tailor their message to what the neighborhood wants to hear. They advertise the ashes of the fire that might have once burned brightly, but is no more. They'll sculpt the ashes into amusing shapes and toy around with the properties of the ashes until they've mined all the ashes are worth—but on reflection, the ashes remain ashes and the fire is eventually forgotten.

You never have to advertise a fire. The Holy Spirit's fire in a church will obliterate whatever feeble gains a marketing campaign can create. The Holy Spirit's fire in a church catches in the community and changes lives profoundly. The Holy Spirit's fire cleanses, renews, and empowers.

For all too many churches today, there is no fire, only ashes. This is the dirty little secret that no one can utter. And when the Sunday service is over, it's the nagging doubt in every person's mind as they walk out wondering why they feel so empty even though they just spent all that time in church.

Everything besides the Spirit will fail to change this condition. The Christian pundits out there are misdirecting people into thinking there are other ways to get there, but there aren't. Only the Spirit of God satisfies. And once you have the Spirit, all that other dross is burned away.

It's time to stop pretending. For too many the Holy Spirit has become a dim memory in a dim church filled with dim people. God, send us your Fire!

Creation in the Heart of the Christian

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View from Mt. Lassen, Callifornia

When I was a child, my favorite hymn was, by far, “This Is My Father’s World.” There was something inherently organic, yet otherworldly, in the simple words that begin this hymn:

This is my Father’s world,
and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings
the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world:
I rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world,
the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white,
declare their maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world:
He shines in all that’s fair;
in the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

The planets (the “spheres” as so elegantly put in the hymn) sing the praises of God. Contrary to the small-minded who believe God stopped speaking the second the canon of Scripture was closed, God continues to speak to us through His creation. The beauty of an unfolding lily attests to the artistry of God and His profound love for us that we may delight in what He delights in.

I know that God takes pleasure in what His words have wrought. I also know that I take pleasure in those things. So far this April it has averaged about 70 degrees and sunny here in SW Ohio. I cannot remember an April so auspicious in its loveliness. This kind of weather lifts everyone’s spirit.

Yesterday was the first cutting of the grass. Our property is a bit over thirteen acres, with much of it grass at this point. But as I sit up on my tractor and mow, I cannot help but feel something warm within me. The senses God gave me collect a host of data that all point to one thing: God can speak to us through the land.

I’ve blogged on this before, but I want to reiterate the thought. I believe that one of the reasons that many Christians feel impoverished in their souls is because they lack any connection to the land. Too many of us get all our food from the grocery store and never eat what we could grow ourselves if we had a tie to the land. This divorces us from God’s creation, a state I believe He never intended us to dwell in. Being able to till the soil and grow our own food puts more of our reliance back on the Creator and less on nameless and faceless multinational food production companies.

I believe God is calling Christians to get back to the land, to be better stewards of God’s world than we have been, and to outdo the pantheistic leftists (who seem to inhabit all the environmental groups out there) in our ability to care for Creation. We need to be less reliant on food distribution systems and more reliant on the Lord. I believe that Christians who are considering purchasing a new home buy one with a smaller house, but more property on which to grow food.

This year we are putting in a permaculture fruit orchard with apples, cherries, and Asian pears, plus all the supporting flora (to cut down on our use of harsh chemicals.) We want to be as organic as possible. Since my wife and I both enjoy a nice glass of wine with meals from time to time, we plan on putting in a vineyard after that—we have great soil for it. We live in the viticultural area that in the 1800s was the equivalent to what Napa is today, so we know it can be done.

And there is a blessing that comes from this that I think too many of us are missing. When we become detached from the land, we lose our ability to appreciate the bounty of God’s provision, taking for granted everything we consume. And while the Fall made growing our own food more difficult, the original call of God to be fruitful and to subdue the land has not been rescinded.

Every time I stroll through this property, I thank the Lord. I watched red-bellied woodpeckers cavort on a dying tree yesterday. The meadowlarks stroll in packs through the grass, disturbing the bugs they eat. Bats tear through the sky in random patterns, flying over the blooming pear trees, and the roses with their fresh green leaves. Warblers begin their re-acclimation to southern Ohio, their babbling songs ringing through the budding walnut, sycamore, and locust. Tadpoles swim the creek, while adult frogs croak their mating calls from the pond.

It all speaks to the majesty of God and too many people are missing it, casually ignoring Creation as they fly from one activity to another, dead to the voice of God speaking in the mulberry trees, the bluebirds, or the cirrus clouds wafting by overhead.

This year, rediscover the voice of God in Creation. Find a way to grow your food. Seek out the quiet places in the woods where God can charm you with His verdant lullabies.

In the words of another hymn:

For the beauty of the earth,
For the glory of the skies;
For the love which from our birth,
Over and around us lies;
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This, our hymn of grateful praise.

The To-Do List Christian

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Buried under To-Do'sJust as Ecclesiastes says that "of making many books there is no end," so it is with the number of modifers that can be added to the beginning of the word Christian.

Casual.
Depressed.
Joyful.
Carnal.
And on and on.

But I want to add one I've never heard before, so maybe I'm coining it right here: The To-Do List Christian.

A To-Do List Christian is a believer in Christ who rushes around all day checking off each item as it is performed from his To-Do list. That list will vary from person to person, but it is usually complete enough to exhaust an entire day. For the To-Do List Christian, life is one vast list of demands upon his time that never gets completely met. And pity the poor person who falls behind.

"Let go and let God" is a phrase uttered by well-meaning people who deal with frazzled To-Do List Christians. This advice, however, is meaningless. The To-Do List Christian recognizes that God is not going to pay her bills, take out her trash, mow her lawn, homeschool her kids, or do the grocery shopping—at least she's not been able to locate any Scriptures that back up that contention. Ecclesiastes also mentions the many vanities of life, but for the To-Do List Christian there seems no way to avoid them. So letting go and letting God becomes an abstract concept relegated to mountain-top-sitting hermits who never have to balance a checkbook or deal with a 1040 form. In fact, God Himself takes on an abstract reality, demoted from His throne in the To-Do List Christians heart in place of a new master, Time.

To-Do List Christians are easily recognized by the perpetually stunned look on their faces. "Now what was I doing?" is their mantra, as they stand in the middle of a room wondering how they got there and where they might have been going. The fear that they have forgotten their next thing to do is almost overwhelming. "Our anniversary is in two weeks and I have no gift ready!" "Is it time to update my license plates?" "Did I remember to pay the doctor bill?" "When was the cut-off for preschool registration?" "Oh no, I missed the due date on my credit card and now I have to pay a $50 fine!" "My last quiet time? I can't remember when that was…but I do know I have a small group meeting, an accountability group meeting, and the Wednesday night church class—or was that canceled this week?"

To-Do List Christians are tired, run-down people. Some cannot say no to requests made of them, especially those made by their church, while others have learned the fine art of saying no and yet the to-do list does not subside even one item. Joy seems lost, buried under a pile of clamoring activities and must-do items of daily living. Drudgery becomes the norm rather than a life made more abundant. The spiritual world seems very far away, indeed.

This blog posting today is a confession of sorts for me, because I fear that I have become a To-Do List Christian. My list of things to do is so large that I ran it out on an Excel spreadsheet and it came to nearly two hundred items. Every day I feel like it grows faster than I can complete items on it. Yes, some are long-term to-do's, but many require immediate responses. Stack enough of those on top of each other and the load becomes almost unbearable.

I don't like feeling like that, but I have no idea how to get out from under the weight of things to do. I don't believe that God created us to live like this, rushing from one thing to another in a mad frenzy of checking things off a list. Yet as much as I have pondered this, I don't have a good solution. I believe that living in a more intentional Christian community can free us up somewhat, but the "world system" we have erected for ourselves in 21st century America is crushing the life—especially the spiritual life—out of most of us. Perpetually stunned people have a hard time praying, reading the Scriptures, and focusing on anything besides the conviction that a month-long vacation is needed—so long as all the bills somehow get paid during that time. (Even vacation time comes at a price.)

I have a full load of things to do in just the next two days. How much do you have to do? Are you becoming a To-Do List Christian? What can we do about it?

Please comment. I hope that many of us can recognize that we have added the modifier "To-Do List" in front of our main title of "Christian." I hate that. Do you?