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This reminded me of a conversation I was having with myself (I have those often) on my way home from work. You see, a co-worker asked if I went to church and I said, “Well, kinda, but not in the way you might think,” and they began “apologizing” for the way they had been talking, and I said, “Do you think that God loves you any less?”

So this got me thinking of what really are the differences between me and them (I even hate using that language here)? And I had this mock conversation.

“You know what the difference is between me and you?” I asked.

“What?” they responded, thinking of a long religious and stereotypical list.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You are made in God’s image, so am I. You are loved by God, so am I. You are forgiven, so am I. We are the same. And because I am realizing God’s love, I want to be apart of what God’s doing all around us.”

See, I’ve been taught my whole life that there are fundamental differences between “us” and “them”. That we are saved, they are not. We are believers, they are unbelievers. We are the children of God, they are the children of something else. We are forgiven, they are not. We are all loved, but it translates differently for us than it does for them (we go to heaven, they hell).

What freedom to know and receive that God likes “us” and “them”.

Or, even better said, what freedom to know and receive that God likes his kids.

Jesus said that we’d be known as his followers by our love (John 13). He also prayed that his followers would be united in love so that the world would see that God loves them as he loves his son, Jesus (John 17). I knew this about Jesus’ words, but as I was reading through Philippians—particularly the second chapter (which I’ve read 100 times over in the past)—Paul’s words jumped off the page. He talks about unity in Christ, comfort from his love, tenderness, compassion, being of the same mind, and then says this: “…Having the same love…”.

He then goes on to explain what this like-minded love looks like, and points to Jesus. That love should be the unifying factor. That self-sacrificing love helps us to be one in spirit and mind. That our like-mindedness is found in the humble, serving and loving mind of Jesus. Not only does love define us—label us, as it were—as a follower of Jesus, but love also unites us. And when the world looks on, witnessing and experiencing our love, they will know they are loved as children of their heavenly daddy.

Like-mindedness (a.k.a. unity) is found in love, expressed through humility.

So let’s take a quick test.

1) What defines us as followers of Jesus? Love.
2) What unites us as followers of Jesus? Love.
3) What draws others into following Jesus? Love.

You mean, the answers to the above isn’t “correct” doctrine? Or ___________ (you fill in the blank)? Or . . .

Perhaps (and I am using “perhaps” very facetiously) love is the greatest of these things.

May we be known and united by our love.

I am often asked, by other Christians, “What church do you go to?” or “Where do you go to church?” This is, with regularity, followed by them saying, “Oh, I go to such-and-such church.” Another common question I get asked usually refers to the quality of the church I just went to, “How was church today?” which often is asking about the preaching, music, etc. Though these are well meaning questions, I think they point a bigger issue that plagues us today.

The bigger issue is one of “mistaken identity”. We see the church as a place we go versus a people who live in the way of Jesus. It is so prevalent that even people who do not go to church know “church” as a place, rather than a people who follow Jesus. But Paul knew better.Paul’s addresses many of his letters (Corinthians, Thessalonians, Ephesians, Revelation) to “the church in…” and names a city or providence. It is to a singular church, not plural churches (though there were many separate gatherings), that he writes to. Imagine Paul writing one letter to the all the various, individual churches in Sacramento and beginning his letter, “To the church in Sacramento”, and you get the picture. Paul used this language because he viewed God’s church as—not a place or a building—a people.

Now, I know we all agree to this in theory or theology, but seldom do we acknowledge it in our Sunday-to-Sunday language or practice. I cannot tell you the number of times that it has been insinuated or I have been directly told that “so-and-so church is better than so-and-so church”, or that “our church is in competition with so-and-so church”, or, “did you hear what happened to so-and-so church?” In Paul’s eyes, the church was in an interdependent relationship with one another as a people of God who followed and claimed the radical name of Jesus. Today, we independently operate separate church buildings and congregations, seldom uniting with or caring what happens to each other. In fact, sometimes we secretly (or not so secretly) applaud the sufferings, losses and mistakes of other congregations. This is because we really do not see them as “the church”––as brothers and sisters, as equals–– but as the other church, as the competition, or even as enemies if their beliefs differ from ours (those Baptists, Charismatics, Catholics).

It seems silly to imagine this self-destructive thinking in Paul’s day considering that the churches met in homes. The church, or the people of Jesus, met in small home gatherings located all through out the Roman Empire (though in Jerusalem they also went to the temple). Though separate, they viewed themselves as and acted like they were one body. I find great encouragement when large, diverse groups of Christians gather by the thousands in large auditoriums to worship and learn together. To me, it is a small slice of heaven. We all agree and act like we are ONE when we gather in such settings. But then something happens that saddens me. We get back to our “Churches” and resume business as usual: independent churches who could care less about each other—especially if the other church belongs to a different denomination. Jesus said that a house that is divided against itself cannot stand. Perhaps this is, in part, what we are seeing today: a divided house that is falling down.

May we reclaim our identity as THE CHURCH. May we stop nodding knowingly about this fact and start behaving how we claim to believe. May we not see ourselves as people who go to a church, but as a people who are the Church of Jesus wherever we go and whatever we do. May we be the church whether we meet in a multimillion-dollar building, or an ancient cathedral, or a living room, or a bar, or a coffee shop, or a park. May we stop competing against, abusing, slandering and destroying the other parts of Jesus’ body just because they are different then we are and because they believe differently then we do. May Jesus be our common head and may we stand in unity.

Good Question.  Watch this video:

For an Emergent Cohort near you, go here.

From Glenn Hager: Some of you know that I am trying to shape a ministry that would come along side these pioneers and revolutionaries and help them through the transition. This desire has grown out of my own experience of being a pastor for over twenty years, struggling find my place, and eventually, losing confidence in the church system that I used to love, but not in Christ or his mission. My questions for you are: [the one I chose to answer] What do they/you need?

In a nutshell, I think the biggest thing people who are being led to re-form and re-dream the church is a safe place to do just that. It will be messy, unpredictable, and often times unconventional, but we need heart-supporters that will give us the space to play with living out faith in the pluralistic, global and postmodern context we find ourselves in. We need elders who, though they are not feeling led to personally re-tool ministry for the droves of people who are not connecting with the modern U.S. church, see the need and who are willing to protect and support the lives and efforts of those who are being called to lead such a change.

Too often the story gets repeated of a church who wants to re-dream a ministry for—as they call them—”those postmoderners”. They hire an emerging leader and initially give them a long leash to experiment. But as the months progress, the leash gets shorter and the collar gets tighter, especially as unconventional methods are being experimented with and more people begin connecting with these “new” ways and less with the “old” ways. Rumors begin to float, meetings take place, hurtful words are thrown (by both), egos get bruised, and the emerging leader usually is forced to self-resign due to the tumultuous environment or they are just out-right asked to leave the church.

It is my judgment that most of the emerging leaders would prefer to work alongside and with existing churches; that their desire really isn’t to break-away from their forefathers of the faith. I really sense that they long for the support, freedom, protection, love, friendship, companionship, and wisdom of those who are leading existing ministries and churches. But for most—not all—emerging leaders, they are slowly (and sometimes quickly) squeezed out of their community of faith, and so they reluctantly go it alone with a few friends to follow where God is leading their heart and passion.

And sometimes you hear of denominations and established churches taking a Kingdom-risk. They see the tide of change, and though they are scared to death at times, they support, embrace, love, partner, and get messy with what God might do through someone very different from themselves. They take bullets. They bite their tongue. They watch backs. They witness mistakes. They glory in success (though not often how they might define it). And together, they set out on God’s mission into a dying world needing God’s love and the message of his undying grace.

So if you were to ask me, What is it that emerging-missional (or whatever you call us) leaders need? Here is my answer. We need a safe place to experiment new paths of mission and theology; and friends who—though they might not “get it” or understand—can support us, protect us, trust us, and ultimately trust God as he leads us.

But safe place and friendship or not, we feel that God’s movement is going to happen—regardless. We’d just like it to happen with all of us unified together in relationship and trust, instead of in banishment and fear.

We are, after all, serving and trusting the same living God. In this, we should stand—together, not apart.

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Links to all of the participants:

Alan Knox: A Revolutionary? Who? Me?

Barb: My Response

Erin Word: Are We There Yet, Papa Smurf?

Glen Hagger: Harvey

Jane: Onward Christian Soldier

Jeff Greathouse: So, You Want To Change

Jeff McQuilken: The Great Shift–and My Unwitting Part In It

Jeromy Johnson: A Safe Place To Experiment

Jonathan Brink: Re-Emerging Church

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More From Glenn Hager: My personal journey, reading, blogging, and conversations with friends have led me to uncover the fringes of a huge group of people who operate under the radar of much of the world. They represent over 20 million people in the U.S. (This is the number of people who are already expressing their Christian faith in ways other than through a conventional church, according to the Barna organization.) who have lost (or, are losing) their faith in the institutional church system, yet have a deep love for Christ, his community and his mission. Many of you are a part of that number which includes those…

• Who have been wounded through serving and separating from “church as they have known it.”
• Who are feeling alone, wondering if there is something wrong with their theology, if they suffer from some personality disorder, or if they are doomed to isolation.
• Who are former church leaders or staff members trying to find a new sense of direction.
• Who eventually want to return to community and fellowship, but not get mired down in the system they left behind.
• Who long for a faith community that is vibrant, accepting, and real, that joins in God’s kingdom in practical ways where they live and beyond.

Some of you know that I am trying to shape a ministry that would come along side these pioneers and revolutionaries and help them through the transition. This desire has grown out of my own experience of being a pastor for over twenty years, struggling find my place, and eventually, losing confidence in the church system that I used to love, but not in Christ or his mission. My questions for you are:

• What do they/you need?
• What did/do you need as you as went/are going through this transitional phase?
• How can a ministry or service help them/you?

With this post I wanted to compare and contrast two views, or perceptions, of Christian truth.

Perception one views God’s truth as narrower, with their personal truth and belief lining-up closely with God’s truth; thus “orthodox”. To the varying degrees that everyone else’s beliefs stray from “orthodox” belief, the closer they get to unorthodoxy (heresy) and the further from God they go.

Perception two views God’s truth as wider, so wide in fact that no one human or group can claim absolute “correct” belief. They believe that all Christian beliefs have some things that line up with God’s truth and other things that do not. In a sense, we are all right and wrong in our understanding of God, no one is “orthodox”—and never will be while on earth.

But, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. So here are 4 sets of diagrams I created (I am a visual person) that compare and contrast these two perceptions. These are overly simplified and cannot represent the entirety of all the perceptions of truth. I just feel these two are rather predominant in today’s modern/postmodern world. Here are the four sets:

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. . . as I do, then read my friend Jonathan who put words to how I feel about the church.  I could not have said it better.  Thanks brother!

God seems anything but balanced. At least that is what Jesus seemed to think and teach. I hear this often (or along these lines): “I know God is love, but you can’t sway too far to that side—you have to keep him in balance.” Most of us want a God who is balanced. One who doesn’t stray too far to the side of vengeance or to the side of love. One who finds a nice comfortable spot in the middle and firmly plants himself there, never to be moved. A lot of us want a moderate God, a middle of the road God.

But fortunately for us humans, that God does not exist.

Instead, we have a reckless God. An extreme God. A far-leaning-to-one-side God. Daddy is excessive. He’s wild. He’s unreasonable. He’s unfair. He’s unwarranted. He’s a fanatic who is insane, hell-bent, unbridled, unrestrained, uninhibited, and a borderline lunatic when it comes to loving and forgiving us humans—his kids.

To Jesus, God is a field manager who hired a bunch of workers at different times throughout the day—some working all day and others for only an hour—and paid them all the same! Some complained he was not being fair.

God is a scorned old father who at the mere glimpse of his wayward son (who, by the way, wished his father dead) off in hazy distance, hiked up his robe, ran to him, embraced him and could not stop kissing him; he then killed the best calf, put a ring and robe on him, and partied for days! The respectful older son was jealous, complaining too that the situation was not fair.

God is a shepherd who left 99 sheep in the open field—abandoning them—to go chase one worthless (in our eyes) sheep that ran away! Talk about reckless.

God is a banquet host who, when the invited guests did not show up, went into the streets inviting the outcast, the homeless, the crippled, the sinful, the lepers, the AIDS stricken, the mentally disabled and a whole other mess of his kids who were rejected, to a banquet with the finest food, the best china, the most expensive wine (you get the picture)—for free, with no hope of receiving anything from them in return! A tad excessive.

God is a woman who lost a coin and tore apart her house day and night looking for it, and when she finally found it she threw a party! Fanatic comes to mind.

God is a pearl collector who found a pearl and then sold everything he owned to purchase it! He is also a chum who found a treasure in some field and in turn sold everything as well to buy the field! Sure, they have their pearl and “treasure”, but now they are homeless and on welfare. Picture a friend of yours doing that…lunatic, no?

God is a king who let off the hook a guy who owed him $3,000,000,000—three billion dollars!—free and clear, not owing a thing! Who does this if not someone who is insane? (Yes, I know that the forgiven man then went out and demanded five dollars from a buddy and threw him in jail when he couldn’t pay, and yes, when the king heard of this he called the forgiven man back before him and threw him in jail because he refused to love as the king loves, to forgive as the king forgives).

And on and on Jesus went describing a God who was anything but balanced when it came to love. But he not only described it, he also lived it. He touched the untouchable, talked to the untalkable, forgave the unforgivable, ate and drank with sinners, healed the cursed, and went crazy when it came to love! (He also had some pretty harsh words to say for those who labeled, judged, and condemned all of the above, but I offer that even his harsh words flowed completely out of love for even them!)

So is God balanced? Thankfully not. But what about justice? Listen, since God is way unbalanced towards the side of love (which to him isn’t even a side) then any loving decision he makes is just, because God is the measure of justice, not us. In the end, his love-justice will probably seem terribly unjust to us—even me! Perhaps our “unjust” feelings will be more of a light shed onto our screwed up idea of “justice” than anything else.

Its funny, when it comes to God’s extravagant, unfair love and forgiveness, we freely believe and claim it for ourselves. It is when it applies universally to others, especially all the non-deserving (whoever that is for you), that we get hung up.

I am sure a large majority of us Christians (perhaps myself included) will whine much like my seven year-old son does: “But that’s not fair! I did this and that. I believed this and that. I served you. I…I…I… What did they do? Why do they get the same thing we get? Who are they that they should be called sons of God? Why do you love them? It’s not fair!” (Sounds awfully like a few parables, doesn’t it?)

Perhaps God will respond much like I do when my son enters into his whiny it’s-not-fair-mode, simply and calmly saying . . . “I know.”

Perhaps he’ll add, “Are you envious because I am generous?”

I am so glad that Jesus painted a picture of God who is anything but balanced. I am glad that Daddy is not moderate. That he’s reckless, extreme, far-leaning-to-one-side, excessive, wild, unreasonable, unfair, hell-bent, unbridled, unrestrained, uninhibited, and a borderline lunatic when it comes to loving and forgiving us humans; his kids.

Aren’t you?

May I follow my Daddy’s lead…

For me, this is one of the more personal blogs I have written. In fact, it has sat in my “drafts” folder for quite some time and even now I hesitate posting it. What makes it so personal is the fact that this has been an internal struggle of mine for a while and the decision I made was immensely difficult.

I have made a decision to fast from the Lord’s Supper (Communion, Eucharist, etc.) whenever I am in an environment where anyone is excluded from the Lord’s table.

It saddens me to the core when people are excluded from sharing a meal with Jesus. I crumble inside when the words “If you are a follower of Jesus you are invited to partake…” are spoken because the flip-side of that message is, “If you are not a follower of Jesus you are not welcome at Jesus’ table.” I explode internally when I see someone pass Jesus’ meal without taking it because a “table-keeper” said they couldn’t. Here is why I am sad, crumble, and explode:

Imagine our family shares a special dinner tradition. When Grandpa was alive (he died seven years ago) he always prepared a special dinner whenever he came over to visit and the family got together. Since his death, the family continues sharing this meal every time we get together (usually about 6 times a year). The tradition has become to remember Grandpa as we eat, each of us sharing stories and memories, remembering and honoring him, his life, and the love he gave to us and we shared with him. It is a wonderful time for our family—deeply personal and very meaningful.

But periodically, friends who are not part of our blood-family come over during these gatherings. We talk, laugh, play games and have a rewarding time of fellowship. But when it comes time for our traditional meal, we politely ask them to remain in the living room while we eat. So, awkwardly, they acquiesce and sit on the couch to watch us eat. Glasses chime, silverware clang, stories are told, memories shared, food eaten and wine sipped—by some, that is.

This analogy grips me and will not let go. It is absolutely absurd. Who does this? We do! Every time we share our daddy’s meal—sorry, the Lord’s Supper—together. And God has convicted me to the point where I can no longer sit at the table eating while others are expelled to the living room to watch. I just can’t do it anymore!

From what I know of Jesus, he would never exclude anyone from sharing a meal with him—especially active sinners. When he was here on earth, that is exactly who he was fond of sharing his table with. Have we forgotten that this is Jesus’ table and meal, not ours? Who am I to decide and control who gets to eat at Jesus’ table and who does not? I get this picture of Jesus sitting at a table with a feast spread before him, but erecting a human wall between Jesus’ feast and the “people” are some men (mostly) who decide who gets to eat and who gets to watch.

Going back to the analogy of our family, how much more beautiful to add a few more chairs at the table and invite those who are not “family” to come and share our intimate meal. Maybe as we share stories and memories, remembering and honoring him—his life, and the love he gave and we shared—they will get to know him and his love in the process. Perhaps as they are invited to belong they will be mesmerized by him and his love.

So that is why I am fasting from the Lord’s Supper whenever I am in an environment where anyone is excluded from the Lord’s table. I cannot eat at the table while others are left on the couch. I will politely excuse myself from the family table and go sit on the couch with our friends. For me, to sit at the table is to quietly nod in favor at what is taking place.

Since my decision to pass on the bread and the wine, our church has shared the Lord’s Supper twice. Both times—for the first time in my life!—I have handed the trays to my neighbor without partaking. Sitting there without the bread and the wine (juice) has been a deeply intimate and spiritual time for me. My mind wanders from being focused on God to feeling really awkward and self conscious. I feel the “imaginary” stares from those around me. I hear the chewing and swallowing and clacking of plastic cups. By personally choosing to remain on the “couch”, I am getting a sense of how it feels to be excluded from Jesus’ table. And oh how my shallow heart needs to feel it—I need to feel what it feels like to be among the excluded! I need to feel what they feel whenever they are forced to sit on the couch.

Here’s the ironic thing, while sitting on the couch I noticed something: Jesus steps up from the table, squeezes his way through the human-erected wall, and brings his spirit to those of us on the couch as well. Despite our best religious efforts to control his table, we can’t control him. Cool, huh?

For what it’s worth…

What if we, as the church, were invisible? What if we had no church buildings? No signs declaring a church location? No denominations or headquarters? No mega weekend gatherings? No Christian radio presence? No Christian stores? No Christian bumper stickers or other outward personal identifying stuff? What if the Yellow Pages didn’t have a “church” category and if you Googled “church” it came up with no search results? What if there was no such “thing” as the church? Would there still be a church?

What if we, as the church, were invisible? What if we simply lived the life of Jesus, speaking and displaying his love to the people we knew and came in contact with on a daily basis? What if we as followers of Jesus simply did just that? What if we gathered quietly in homes to break bread and encourage each other in Christ; where our goal would be to simply live as agents of God’s restoration, serving God and the “other” in real and tangible ways? What if church were not a weekend thing, but a people who radically lived behind the cultural scenes bringing God’s kingdom to earth?

What if God’s church was more like a tiny mustard seed instead of trying to be the biggest oak tree on the hill? What if Jesus’ church was more like a tiny amount of yeast…itself unnoticed, yet quietly transforming and restoring people and, in turn, culture? What if the Holy Spirit’s church sought to be the last and the least—a servant? What if the church daily sought self-death—dying to itself and loosing its life in order to find it—instead of doing all it can to save its life? What if God’s church chose to sit down in the least honored seat of society and culture, instead of clamoring and fighting for the most prestigious one? What if the church “thing” disappeared and all that was left was the church—people who realize they are forgiven and loved by God and who actively want to be a part of his restorative and healing work in lives of other’s?

In other words, what if the church was invisible—or even better: visible, yet invisible? What if?

Suppose I live in one room of a house my entire life. I never leave this room and this room has only one window looking outside. To me, this window-view of the outside world—the trees, the hills, the sky—is the only view. To me, this is what the outside world looks like: what I see out of my one window. It is all I have ever known or seen of outdoor reality, so to me, it is reality, it is truth. If someone were to ask me what the great outdoors looks like, I would describe (and likely defend) my view from my window…as I should, it is all I’ve ever known.

But one day, I hear a tap at my door. Expecting it to be locked like all the other times, I try to open it and to my surprise, it opens. There is a kind, old man (there is always an old man in good stories) standing in a hallway which I’ve never seen. He greets me and leads me to another door down the hall. He slowly opens it, revealing another room. Cautiously and with great hesitation, I step in and am floored. This new room is very different from mine and it too has a window looking outside. I slowly approach it, drawing back its curtain, and for the first time discover a new view of the outside world. There’s a house and a road and a dog that I have never seen before, but were there all along—simply out of view from my previous all-I’ve-ever-known window. My outside world just altered and with it brings both excitement and knee shaking disequilibrium. Reality as I knew it changed. The old man smiles at the gift he has given me.

He takes my hand and leads me to another room, and another, and another…each a bit different and each with a new window exposing a distinctive and unique view of the great outdoors. After the first few rooms, I begin to settle into the fact that the outside world is much different and bigger than what I had previously known. I actually begin to anticipate that with each new room and window, the actual reality of the outside world will be fuller known to me. What I once feared—or never knew—now brings the excitement of discovery.

The old man sits me down in the living room and tells me that the house—his house—is mine to explore. All the rooms and windows are available to me, and much like Extreme Home Makeover, releases me to joyfully discover my new house. I run off doing just that! Each room and window is a gift of reality-discovery.

After some time, he finds me and takes my hand once more. I am tired. He takes me to a yet another door—a new door. As he turns the knob I am expecting to find another room with yet another window-view. He opens the door. Fresh air rushes in. The streaming sunlight is both blinding and spectacular; my skin reacts to its warmth. Glass no longer separates me from, or limits my view of, the great outdoors. He leads me outside to now finally experience the full reality of the great outdoors…not through windows, but in actual, absolute reality. The scents, the sounds, the breeze, the sun—they all explode with life! Once again, my reality shatters as his reality emerges.

He lets go of my hand and runs outside, stops and turns back towards me, “Come on, what are you waiting for!” he shouts. I snap out of my trance and run, skipping with laughter, into the great outdoors.

How do you react to this story? What does this story mean to you?

To me, this is my analogy of what my experience walking with different expressions of the Christian faith has been like.  To me, each expression offered new insight and discovery into God’s reality—that the sum of the Christian expressions were more truth-ful than one sole expression.  This is the beauty of the body of Christ and perhaps what Paul meant when he described Christ’s body-parts as eyes, noses, arms, hands, feet, etc. —each needing each other.  May we learn to embrace each expression rather than expel it.  ‘Cause one day, we’ll see God’s real reality in its fullness and find out that we, as finite humans, were all wrong to one degree or another.

Heck, in the end, I’ll be amazed if I got 7% of God’s truth correct!

On a jagged hill sprouting life, his followers stood around him remembering his life and brooding over his death. This man from Nazareth was the freshest breeze their bodies and souls had ever inhaled. They had experienced his love and grace in such a strikingly personal way that the whole of their lives had been altered. He was their life. Loved and enlivened with a passion for their savior, they freely gave of his love and grace to all who needed it. People the world ‘round began to take in the fresh breeze of Jesus. But soon, Jesus—his love and grace, his life and message—was just not enough. So on the hill, where God used a tool of death to bring life, they began to build.

At first, a wooden sign carved to read, Come See Jesus, Lamb that was Slain!, drew people to the cross—but as time passed, that got old.

So they lined the cross with candles, on either side of Jesus’ blood matted head, to attract people from a greater distance and at night—but soon the candles became just a part of the evening skyscape. Attendance at the cross began to drop.

This bothered God’s people, so they decided it would be best to regroup, brainstorm and strategize. After some debate, they agreed the people needed a more comfortable place to be at Jesus’ feet. They hired contractors and built a grand building complete with air conditioning and a state-of-the-art sound system for ambient music. People got excited and flocked to the building on the hill—but soon the crowds dwindled.

It was around that time that the church leaders began to notice a foul odor…the Jesus and the cross began to stink. “It’s becoming repulsive. That’s why they stopped coming—the cross…it’s too offensive. Besides, it’s outdated. Put it downstairs with those old hymnals.”

As the church on the hill grew nicer and nicer, richer and richer people came, passing the poor, blind, and crippled on their way. They sported their best clothes, brought their best gifts, and flashed their best smiles. The church grew and grew. The cross and the real Jesus, however, were lost—no, hidden—in the dark.

Years passed. On one tedious Tuesday morning, while looking for table clothes for the evening’s banquet, a pastor stumbled across Jesus and the cross in the basement. Their ugliness repulsed him. And that smell! This real, flesh and blood Jesus was indeed growing old. While covering his nose and gazing at Jesus, a thought occurred to him. “If I made him attractive to the world, would more people come into my church?” So the pastor covered him—Jesus—in solid gold. “Now people will like him. Now they will come. Hmm, I wonder if they’ll pay admission?” he asked….

Picture Jesus suffering in front of us, bleeding, dying. His soul is shattered and his mortal body cold. We look on. Seeing him. Yet we don’t see him. We see him as an item: either to gain (purchase) or to sell (market). One after one we appraise him: “Is it cheaper to buy here or there?”……“How much should we charge? We have to pay the bills—water and electricity, not to mention the property and building loans. After that comes the employees’ salaries and we’ll need some sort of cushion fund for the future. 10% of people’s income should do.”……“First thing we’ll have to do is clean him off and dress him up. No person in his or her right mind would buy him like that—bloody and mangled. Mike, hose him off, would you?”……“Look at the shape of the cross, see it? I can imagine it everywhere. I think I just found our branding trademark.” The line stretches out of sight as people—young and old—flock to see what they could do with him. “If only we had this….” “What we need is….” “No one has thought of….” Person after salesperson makes an appraisal.

In our attempts to make a user-friendly Jesus, we have covered him—and his call to mission and discipleship—with precious stones. To man’s wisdom it makes sense. However, Paul says, “The foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom.” He also mentions, “But we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to the Jews [religious people] and foolishness to Gentiles [unbelievers].” From our perspective, there is a certain element of foolishness to the cross. It’s an odd message to people: that God would choose such a gruesome, torturous display of death to help communicate his love, grace and forgiveness—not to mention the vileness of our sin. Why can’t we just accept its oddity and trust in God’s foolishness? Instead, we take “Jesus” into our own hands and repackage him—his life and message.

A lot of hype and marketing gather many followers to themselves. Games, bands, magnets, camps, mints, books, schools, t-shirts, record companies, hats, computer programs, stores, key chains, bumper stickers, posters, candy, publishing houses, ties, paintings, gimmicks, conferences, tablecloths, DVDs, license plate frames, CDs and MP3s, bookmarks, fliers, ornaments, napkins, rings, daytimers, coffee mugs, pins, calendars, statues, book ends, concerts, necklaces, parchment paper, toys, aprons, figurines, board games, cartoons, conventions, music videos, movies—if you name it, chances are the secular world has it! Oh, did you think this was a list of Christian items?……interesting.

There are many who create and follow gimmicks, ideas, people, authors, bands—people frenzying to whatever is new, hot, “in” and attractive; whatever glistens as gold to the eye and tickles the ear. But I pose these questions. If the gold were stripped away from Jesus and his message, would we still follow? Would we follow God if the glitz and glamor of doing so were removed? Would we be his disciples—truly engaging him, others and ourselves—if the protective-comfort of modern Christianity was shed? When Jesus no longer turns a profit, either with money or ego, would we follow? Would we follow Jesus without the hype and hip beat? Where would we stand in the midst of persecution? If there were nothing left but him, would we cling to Jesus—as he really is, not as he is marketed?

How long do we think God is going to sit back, restraining his whip and watch his name be sold and his temple desecrated? Or maybe he has already given us “over to the sinful desires of [our] hearts.” Perhaps we have “exchanged the truth of God for a lie and worshiped and served created things rather than the creator,” even if they are “Christian” things.

William Shaw, a secular writer for Details magazine, noted that Christianity “is a religion of bumper stickers and t-shirt logos” (10/96).

What have we done? What are we doing? We need a mending shift here, no?

Blood
drips
on the
ground
silently.
Onlookers cringe at the view.
Coins spill in the ground wastefully as
Christians
market
something
new.
Believers
look on,
appraising
without
a plea;
covering
our
Savior
in solid
gold.
What a sell
—Resounds the shout of hell—
What a sell!

Church. Interesting word.

To some it is a place to go. To some it is a place to avoid. To others it is an identity; a people to be. To Paul and Jesus, it seemed to be the latter. Paul wrote to the church in such-and-such city (hardly one building) and Jesus called his church a bride (last time I checked my wife was a person). But to most in our society, church is a thing. We go to church. We plant churches. We build churches. We choose which church to go to (often based on the quality of the preaching, singing, or children’s ministry). This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it can be. It becomes so when we go to church to avoid being the church. (By the way, a friend of mine, Jonathan, helped identify categories of those associated with church.)

There is a large percentage of people who do just that. They feel that if they faithfully attend the right church (as defined by them or their culture) then they have met the requirements of being a good Christian. Typically, their definition of church is an established building with an established name within an established denomination (or association). There must be preaching and singing and tithes collected and paid pastors to pray and children’s church and youth ministry and, and, and… (in fact, this definition is so ingrained in them that they feel there must be something wrong, or cultish, with a Christian who does not attend such a church). In addition to attending such a church, they feel in order to be a great Christian they must serve the church in some internal capacity and join a small group.

The Christian equation is this: Attend + Serve + Tithe + Small Group = Good Christian.

But here is the subtle deception. They feel that since they have met the requirements, they are free from being the church. They are free from true engagement with Jesus. They are free from true engagement with other people. They are free from pursing their identity as priests and saints. They are free from real life-changing discipleship. They are free from seeking God’s healing justice (not judgment) in this world and society. They are free from radically living and serving and loving and following the at times insane leading of Jesus in their daily lives as they interact with the world around them. They are free from taking up their cross daily. They are free from the demands and persecution that Jesus promised to hi followers. They are free from BEING the church, the bride, and the dynamic-life-changing-people God wants to restore in order that he can restore others through them. They are free from all of this because they park in a certain parking lot to go into a certain building at a certain time to sing certain songs and to listen to a certain man (in most churches) talk about certain topics using a certain book, and to give a certain amount (the faithful give 10% of their pre-tax income), and repeat this process week after week, month after month, year after year until they die and have entirely succeeded in avoiding being the church simply because they went to church.

There are some that are saying “enough!” They feel like there has to be more. They sense that this church-thing system is stifling them from truly being the church. They desire to be his bride without all the trappings of the church-thing. They are tired of attending church sit-n-watch. They want the radical restorative community life they read about in the New Testament. They don’t want to be counted among those who ATTEND in order to AVOID. They want to a community that helps them embrace their identity as Jesus’ bride. All the things the others want to avoid, they want—and they want it so bad they are willing to go to great lengths to get it. Often, they abandon their family’s traditional church-thing, self-ostracizing themselves from friends and family who don’t understand. Most of the time, there are no other alternatives and so they are left with an unfair choice: continue living in the church-thing tension or stop going, both of which are internally painful—and often lonely—decisions.

The there are some who are trying to build an alternative to the church-thing. A few blogs ago I compared this process to my son and I building our tree house. We are trying to dream of a third way. The options of going or not going are not good enough. We need community. We need others. But we need a different—some would argue better—approach to being the church. What will it look like? We don’t know. But it will not be for those who want to ATTEND to AVOID. It will be for those who want to ENCOUNTER in order to EMBRACE.

What of those who want to avoid being the church? I would point them to the yellow pages and they can choose a church they want to attend. A search-tip for those wanting to avoid: the bigger, the better.

Picture this: 4,000 years from today archeologists stumble upon a chest of Lord of the Rings collectables. They find books and figures and shirts and the extended edition movies, just to name a few items. Based on their find, they determine that Middle Earth existed 4,000 years ago and it was populated with trolls, and hobbits, and elfs, and giants, and a bunch of rings, and this mountain called Doom, etc. They read the books and watch the movies as historical treaties and documentaries of everyday life in the 21^st century, at least in this newly discovered place called Middle Earth.

I am obviously using hyperbole to make a point. It is an example and only that. But by now I am sure you see the error in their assumptions. We, living in the 21^st century know the context of the Lord of the Rings story. We know that its intended genre is fiction. Yet even by us knowing that it is fiction, that fact does not limit or diminish the impact and message of the story. To the contrary, its fictional genre is what makes the message and meaning possible. To approach it in any other way would not be correct. In fact, if we were to talk to our 4,000 year contemporaries about their conclusions, we would shake our heads, try to hold back our giggles, and plainly explain to them the fictional genre.

Genre is important—terribly so. I believe the Bible uses the genre of fiction, among others, to help convey truths about God and humanity, as well as to help bring about change in people.

Before I continue, it is important to communicate what I mean by fiction. To me, there seems to be two ways in which the word fiction is used.

When science uses the word fiction, it refers to something that is false but tries to pass itself off as true. The phrase “Fact or Fiction” and the TV show, Mythbusters, are good examples of this approach to fiction. The goal is to determine if something is true or false. If it is true, it’s fact. If it is false, it’s fiction.

When literature uses the word fiction, it refers to a creative story that is not factual, but is intended to convey truths. Some say that this medium is often more powerful at doing that then if someone just wrote a list of factual truths. Think of some of the movies you’ve seen that have impacted you in a great way. Recall some novels you’ve read that left there mark on you. The power of a good story is, well, powerful. Metaphor, allegory and figures of speech fall into this category.

I am using fiction in the second sense of the word; the literary sense.

So for me, to think that God uses such a medium to convey deep truths about himself and about humanity is not a far stretch. I mean, he wired us. He created us with an imagination. He knows how powerful this genre is in conveying truth. It engages you emotionally. It gets your imagination going. You picture the story and place yourself into it. Have you ever lost yourself in a good story and then whammo, the twist comes and it just gets you in the gut? When Jesus came to earth, it was his primary tool to convey truth. Why would it be different in his revealed word? Did God change?

But the story died. Somewhere, somehow, someone decided that the genre of the Bible was only a God-encyclopedia, a God-dictionary, a God-documentary…100% literal fact. That no fictional elements exist (besides Jesus’ parables) and that truth can only be conveyed through hard-fact and solid reason…the mind only, not the heart. Almost like the Bible has a label on the inside cover, “Check your imagination in at the door, it’s not needed in here.” It sounds like religion got scientific on us—the day the story died.

To me, it is almost a greater and more destructive error to label the genre of fiction as “documentary”, then it is to label the genre of documentary as “fiction” (hell comes to mind as a possibility of such error, but maybe not). I mean for people to start taking seriously one-ring-that-rules-them-all? And Mount Doom? And Orcs? That could get ugly.

To label everything in the Bible as either 100% literal or 100% fiction is the easy way out. It requires no thought. And both extremes, I believe, is as much an error as the other. We need to take what was intended to be fictional as fictional and what was intended to be literal as literal (this is where the heavy-lifting comes into play, and sorry, I am not going to lift it for you by providing three easy answers).

Some of you reading this are nodding, thinking, “Finally, someone has put into words what I have been thinking and feeling.” Others are probably shaking your head, getting rather worked up over the words “fiction” and the “Bible” being used together. Whatever the case, I am simply sharing my view. My goal is not to change you. If this get’s you thinking…great. If it helps change you…fantastic. If it irks you…sorry. If you feel the need to respond with a shotgun to shoot holes into it…you can, but if that is your only goal, then perhaps save it and simply say, “I highly disagree”—I’ll know what your saying and where you’re coming from.

What I do ask, is that we really try to engage and dialogue with the heart of the post……blessings.