Christians Doing Satan’s Work

By

-

August 10, 2020

I don’t want to read anything more about Covid, and I’m sure you don’t either. I don’t have any insight on the best way to handle the virus or the timeframe for when we’ll regain some normalcy. There’s only one thing I know: It’s really hard to be a pastor during Covid. That’s not surprising because it’s hard to be a church member during Covid. And that’s not surprising because it’s hard to be a human during Covid.

As I look at the other churches around me, we’re all doing things differently. My church family is meeting in backyards around our area to talk through Scripture, encourage each other, and pray together. Other churches are meeting in their parking lots or under tents on their church property. Some churches are fully online right now. Some churches have chosen to continue meeting indoors. I don’t know of any churches that haven’t changed course a few times.

The bottom line is this: we’re all just doing our best. Believe it or not, the Bible doesn’t tell us specifically how to do a church service. (I know, right?!) We get some descriptions of what the first Christians did when they gathered, and some corrections of specific churches when they veered off course, but you simply cannot read through the New Testament and walk away saying, “Yes, the way my church gathers is the one and only biblical way to do it.” You seriously can’t. And yet, miraculously, so many seem to be doing that right now. To be honest, I have to fight that impulse in myself.

A famous pastor and his megachurch recently chose to defy California Governor Newsom’s ban on holding indoor church services, saying very clearly, “We cannot and will not acquiesce to a government-imposed moratorium on our weekly congregational worship or other regular corporate gatherings. Compliance would be disobedient to our Lord’s clear commands.” I personally find this so frustrating. The “moratorium” in California right now is on indoor gatherings. So which “clear command” of the Lord tells us that we must worship indoors?

But this is exactly the moment I need to stop myself. I don’t need to agree with this pastor. I think he and his team are doing the best they can to be faithful in their context. It’s so hard to be a pastor right now, they don’t need me telling them they’re doing it wrong. I’ve seen several videos make the rounds online with pastors literally yelling at other pastors for not opening their churches back up. That is so out of line! I could yell back that our church is still open, we just aren’t meeting indoors. I don’t need these guys yelling at me for not doing exactly what they’re doing. They don’t need me yelling back at them that they’re doing it wrong. Honestly, we need to stop telling each other what we’re doing wrong and instead focus on following Jesus in our unique cultural moment.

Early in the pandemic, I had to delete Twitter from my phone. I had anxiety as I read opinion after opinion (which is all social media gives us, by the way) about what the virus meant and how it should be responded to: If you keep meeting in person, you’re murdering people. If you stop meeting in person, you’re caving to government and disobeying Jesus. If you meet only online you’re impoverishing people’s spiritual lives because we’re made for human interaction. If you meet in person you’re compromising your church’s witness to the community and no one will ever love Jesus again. If you stop meeting in person your church has abandoned its mission to share the love of Jesus with the community.

“In the Bible, Satan is called ‘the accuser of the brothers and sisters.’ So when we accuse each other regarding how we’re doing church right now, it’s not the Lord’s work we’re doing.”

It’s stupid, it’s wrong, and perhaps most significantly, when we make these kinds of accusations at each other, it’s not the Lord’s work we’re doing. In Scripture, Satan is called “the accuser of the brothers and sisters” (Rev. 12:10). That’s literally Satan’s job. He accuses us of wrongdoing, of not being enough, of being unforgivable, of being unredeemable. And here we are, claiming the name of Jesus even as we step out in a complete lack of grace and accuse one another. As Paul warned us, “But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another” (Gal. 5:15).

When I look around, I see a creativity in churches that I’ve never seen before. Losing this one approach to doing church that we all held to be sacred has led so many churches to innovate and try to find life amid new constraints. That’s a good thing! It’s not a virtue to step up and accuse other churches or other Christians. (I am, of course, talking here about preference issues like whether to meet indoors, outdoors, or online. When it comes to sin issues, abuse, etc., darkness must be named and brought to light and justice.)

The kingdom of God doesn’t look like hatred and strife and division and self-exaltation and political jockeying. This current cultural moment has given us yet another opportunity to be jackasses in the name of Jesus. But it’s also an opportunity for love, grace, and encouragement. So I want to fight the impulse to accuse and tear down and instead look at so many of my brothers and sisters who are simply doing their best and say, “Great job! Hang in there! You’re doing well, and I know God will continue to guide you.” May God use this time to shape his church into what he wants it to be for this time and for the times ahead.

C.S. Lewis’ Cure for Our Partisan Venom

By

Mark Beuving

-

July 23, 2019

1

I can tell you right now this is going to be the best post I’ve ever written. Because most of this article comes directly from C.S. Lewis. What follows is from Lewis’ famous preface to the 4th Century church father Athanasius’ book On the Incarnation. That, plus a few words of my own clumsily explaining why Lewis’ words here could cure our hyper-partisan and heavily-jackassed culture.

“Every age has its own outlook. It is especially good at seeing certain truths and especially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books. All contemporary writers share to some extent the contemporary outlook… Nothing strikes me more when I read the controversies of past ages than the fact that both sides are usually assuming without question a good deal which we should now absolutely deny. They thought that they were as completely opposed as two sides could be, but in fact they were all the time secretly united—united with each other and against earlier and later ages—by a great mass of common assumptions… None of us can fully escape this blindness, but we shall certainly increase it, and weaken our guard against it, if we read only modern books… The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books. Not, of course, that there is any magic about the past. People were no cleverer then than they are now; they made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes… Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction. To be sure, the books of the future would be just as good a corrective as the books of the past, but unfortunately we cannot get at them.”

See what I mean? Classic C.S.! Here we are, Clive says, fighting against each other, and assuming that we couldn’t be further apart in our positions. But when given a chance to compare our “polar opposite” positions to an old book, we find that our “opposites” don’t look as far apart by comparison.

C.S. Lewis said we only increase our blindness by reading modern books. Also read old books, he said: “They made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes…”

So what’s the point? That reading books from a different age allows us to see with different eyes. Sure, those “different eyes” are as flawed as our own, but they’re still different. As Lewis says, “They made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes.”

Do you see a connection here to the sources of our information? Read 100 Fox News articles and while they’ll differ from each other, they’ll all share many assumptions. Most of them the President will praise and a few he’ll ridicule, but they’re all within a certain stream. If you switch over to CNN, you’ll hear just as many errors. But they’ll be different errors. And they’ll differ from each other but they’ll share common assumptions. You can go a certain length toward healing the wound of one bias by viewing it light of another bias. And it’s exactly here that Clive Staples’ advice would be good to heed. This effect is multiplied when you read material from different cultures and different centuries. All full of mistakes, but the non-overlap of the mistakes helps us get a clearer picture.

Then Lewis says something even more fascinating:

“We are all rightly distressed, and ashamed also, at the division of Christendom. But those who have always lived within the Christian fold may be too easily dispirited by them. They are bad, but such people do not know what it looks like from without. Seen from there, what is left intact despite all the divisions, still appears (as it truly is) an immensely formidable unity… That unity any of us can find by going out of his own age. It is not enough, but it is more than you had thought till then.”

This is the surprising discovery of choosing to leave our echo chambers: we have more in common than we would dare to guess! And it’s small of us to insist that our differences are insurmountable.

And now for my favorite part. Good old C. describes the friendly fire you’ll receive from people in the echo chamber once you start seeing the essential unity we share (he knew this well):

“Once you are well soaked in it [the unity across the ages], if you then venture to speak, you will have an amusing experience. You will be thought a Papist when you are actually reproducing Bunyan, a Pantheist when you are quoting Aquinas, and so forth. For you have now got on to the great level viaduct which crosses the ages and which looks so high from the valley, so low from the mountains, so narrow compared with the swamps, and so broad compared with the sheep-tracks.”

Do we all know it’s a good thing to exit our echo chambers and listen to what other voices are telling us? I hope we do. But one thing you can count on: Talk about a Fox News article in front of your CNN friends and you’re in trouble. Quote Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez in front of a Republican and you’d better brace yourself. Mention Richard Rohr to an Evangelical and prepare for a Reformation-centric lecture. Bring up Rob Bell to almost anyone and get ready for an eye roll.

We’re so partisan on so many fronts that we’ve lost the ability to listen to other voices. You have to agree with me that we’re all extremely biased. Right? We are encamped, but there are people traveling all around. Listening doesn’t require the abandonment of convictions. Loving doesn’t mean compromise.

We need to listen to, spend time with, and mutually love and serve people who are different than us. And to Lewis’ specific point, we could all stand to learn from those who came centuries before us. Our differences are more petty, more quixotic, than our small perspectives can imagine.

Jesus Was Conservative (but not in the ways you’d think)

By

Ryan MacDiarmid

-

July 18, 2019

1

This is part two to last week’s post: Jesus was a liberal.

This is a more difficult post to write because it’s so on the nose. Many people instantaneously associate Christianity with CONSERVATIVE values and traditional morals.

Conservative is rarely used as an insult in the church. Evangelicals and fundamentalists often wear it as a badge of honor. When liberals want to be demeaning, they tend to use more offensive words like fascist, implying that conservatives are imperialistic and controlling dictators. Heartless and archaic can be used as synonyms for conservative as well, implying that conservatives lack compassion for others and are stuck in the past.

So, was Jesus conservative? Let’s define terms and see exactly what fits and what doesn’t.

Did Jesus hold traditional values?

conservative | kənˈsərvədiv | adjective 1. holding to traditional attitudes and values and cautious about change or innovation, typically in relation to politics or religion.

As we established in the previous post, in terms of religious reform, Jesus was the opposite of conservative. He was literally “the progression” creation had been waiting for—for generations.

But that doesn’t mean that Jesus started a NEW religion. He was actually quite ancient in his teachings. He was very clear to say that he didn’t come to abandon the law, but to fulfill it.

When asked what the greatest commandments are, he didn’t throw everyone for a loop by inventing some new fangled phrasing. He quoted the shema, the traditional Hebrew phrase:

Love God with all your heart soul, mind, and strength.

There was almost nothing traditional about the methods Jesus used for ministry or his support for the existing religious institution, but there was something incredibly traditional, time-tested, and foundational about his purpose. He wasn’t around to teach something new, he was around to remind his followers of something very very old, to fulfill promises that were very very old. He fought for something that had gotten lost along the way. In this way, I’m proud to be conservative like Jesus.

For heaven’s sake, let us “love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength,” and let’s “love our neighbors as ourselves.”

Was Jesus Conventional in his Dress?
conservative | kənˈsərvədiv | adjective: (of dress or taste) 2. sober and conventional: a conservative suit.

Was Jesus conservative in dress? Who knows. This one is stupid. John the Baptist certainly wasn’t, he was just a few locusts away from homeless.

Was Jesus Financially Conservative?
conservative | kənˈsərvədiv |adjective: (of an estimate) 3. purposely low for the sake of caution: “the film was not cheap—$30,000 is a conservative estimate.”

No. He wasn’t.

Remember the parable of the talents? Jesus strongly cautions against burying our money for fear of loosing it. He wants a healthy return. Now to be fair, Jesus is using a fiscal parable to illustrate a spiritual reality, but the concept is the same. Jesus doesn’t tend to be cautious when it comes to the use of our material resources, our talents, or our time. He’s looking for investments that multiply, which inherently requires risk.

When specifically talking about money, he challenges his followers not to build bigger and bigger barns to store up wealth on earth. By contrast, storing up wealth is sort of the mantra of a conservative.

On top of this, he has the “sell all” and “leave behind” clauses in the gospels. Those are not cautious approaches. So my take here: Jesus was not fiscally conservative. He would be an FPU drop out.

Was Jesus politically conservative?
conservative | kənˈsərvədiv | adjective: 4. (Conservative) relating to the Conservative Party of Great Britain or a similar party in another country.

No. In the last post we discussed that Jesus did not seem interested in political debate. If Jesus was going to engage in politics in our time, I’m nearly certain he wouldn’t just choose to be a republican or democrat. His citizenship is in heaven. His kingship is over all.

Remember, Jesus isn’t a US citizen, he couldn’t vote. When he does return, he’s coming illegally anyway, ain’t no immigration lines guarding the heavenlies.

Words Don’t Mean, People Do

Look, the reality is that nobody is going to the dictionary before they use these terms. When somebody is accusing someone of being too liberal or too conservative, they have something specific in their mind they are addressing. But in our fight for dignity, understanding, and unity, wherever it can be preserved, it might be good to be a little more nuanced in our speech.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be asking: Are you liberal or conservative? The better question is: In what ways does the gospel demand me to be liberal? What does the gospel demand I conserve?”

Maybe it could be healthy for us to realize that, like Jesus, we are all a little liberal and all a little conservative. It simply depends what is being discussed and who we are comparing ourselves to.

Maybe we shouldn’t be asking: Are you liberal or conservative?

The better question is: In what ways does the gospel demand me to be liberal? What does the gospel demand I conserve?

3 Justifications for Hate

By

Ryan MacDiarmid

-

June 13, 2019

2

A couple weeks ago, a Gary Oldman (actor) meme hit reddit.

What was interesting was how quickly it moved up reddit, and how many people felt the need to make exceptions for their right to hate certain types of people.

Below are three of the common reasons people gave as justification to hate others and a few “Jesusy” things to consider.

1) I can hate you because you harm others

I hate murders. I hate child molestors. I hate biggots. I hate racists. I hate Nazis. These were common sentiments across the thousands of reddit comments.

Does God hate morally evil people? Take a look at Proverbs 6:16-19.

There are six things that the LORD hates, seven that are an abomination to him:
haughty eyes, a lying tongue,
and hands that shed innocent blood,
a heart that devises wicked plans,
feet that make haste to run to evil,
a false witness who breathes out lies,
and one who sows discord among brothers

“Just because I disagree with you, that does not mean I hate you.” – Gary Oldman

Notice in this proverb that there are seven things that the Lord hates. Pride, lying, innocent bloodshed, wicked hearts, pursing evil, false witness, sowing discord among brothers.

When people express their right to hate, usually they are pointing to things on this list, or a list that is rooted in similar ideas. I hate murderers (innocent bloodshed). I hate sexual abuse (wicked heart and plans). I hate racists (discord among brothers). The interesting thing is that God HATES these THINGS too!

So we might do well to have a little more hatred of these THINGS in our lives. But notice the emphasis. God hates these THINGS! Hating these THINGS is radically different than despising the humans that do them. In our culture, we are horrible at separating the person from their actions, except of course, when we are looking at our own failures.

Sure, let’s hate the hate. Hate the murder. Hate the sexual abuse. Hate the misogyny. You need not be mild mannered about these despicable acts. Jesus was righteously indignant a few times. Flipping over temple tables comes to mind.

But I’m not sure that hating HUMAN BEINGS for any reason is profitable, healthy, or necessary. Especially not if you have a sober view or yourself and a God-sized view of love.

2) I hate you because you hated me first

One “closeted gay man” wrote:

“I can’t peacefully coexist with people that don’t agree with my existence. I am a closeted gay person. People have made homophobic jokes, complained about the gay agenda, to my face. People have advocated for eugenics to me.”

Another man wrote, “I hate racists, when they target my family and say that my children should die in a gas chamber.”

These are painful to read. Never would I ever want anyone to be the recipients of such hate. I empathize. People are awful, and when their words cut to the core of a person’s value and identity it feels like the only appropriate response is to hate those who have hated you.

Yet, The “I hate you because you hated me first” argument isn’t going to bring change. It will never bring healing to the crazy cycles we get stuck in. 99% of my kids’ disputes begin with, “I hit him because he hit me first.” While all this behavior is normal and understandable, Jesus had another way.

“99% of my kids’ disputes begin with, ‘I hit him because he hit me first.’ While all this behavior is normal and understandable, Jesus had another way.”

“If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you.” – John 15:18-19

Jesus warned his followers of the hatred that was coming their way. But if Jesus proved anything it was that God’s love is vast enough to absorb the hatred thrown his way. And if the cross doesn’t do it for you, remember Jesus also famously counseled his followers to “turn the other cheek.”

In the book The Hate U Give, Angie Thomas unpacks the many layers of hatred that provoke violence and racism in America. Whether you love the book or hate it (ironic), the book is a thesis on hatred. The hate given to the black community, the hate directed at law enforcement, the hate involved in black on black crime—all of it simply produces ripples of chaos and violence. The only way to stop the ripples is to cease the ripples of hate. If that is going to happen, someone must be first. Someone must—in the name of love—absorb it rather than retaliating.

Are you willing to do that?

“Hate can’t drive out hate, only love can do that” – MLK

3) I hate you because I hate everyone (and I also happen to disagree)

One reddit reader wrote,
“I don’t hate people because I disagree with them, I hate everyone and just happen to disagree with some of them…”

While this comment was meant to be funny. I think it might be the most honest of the bunch. Not because I think most people hate everyone, but because in most cases hate actually precedes disagreement.

First we feel hatred, then we justify its existence.

Our hatred often has more to do with our own emotional and spiritual garbage than it does with the person that we actually hate. People make us feel insecure. Having villains makes us feel superior. So we come up with reasons why others are beneath us.

A secure person has plenty of grace to give, plenty of room to admit their own faults, and plenty of compassion to extend for the mistakes of others.

“A secure person has plenty of grace to give, plenty of room to admit their own faults, and plenty of compassion to extend for the mistakes of others.”

Jesus looked at humans with compassion

All this hate talk brings to mind a single verse Matt 9:36.

When he [JESUS] saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.

When Jesus looks over the crowds he doesn’t see what we see.

When we stand before crowds, we make it about us. Are people with me? Are they against me? We are easily insecure and nervous under the scrutiny of others. When Jesus looked at the crowds it was about them. He could see into their souls. He looked at prostitutes, religious zealots, carpenters, priests, diseased, afflicted, rich, and impoverished and it MOVED HIM to be compassionate.

“I talk big about love and ‘agreeing to disagree’ but there are certain types of people that I LOVE to HATE. And as Angie Thomas reminds me, The Hate I Give &*$#@ Everybody!”

Jesus sees people differently than I do. He is empathetic. He knows what his harassed and helpless sheep need.

I’m not so different than all the Reddit commentators. I talk big about love and “agreeing to disagree” but there are certain types of people that I LOVE to HATE. And as Angie Thomas reminds me, The Hate I Give &*$#@ Everybody!

Why Can’t We Have Rational Dialogue?

By

Mark Beuving

-

January 9, 2019

2

Have you ever made the mistake of trying to change someone’s opinion on Twitter, Facebook, or a blog comment? It’s a crazy trap that so many of us have fallen into. We lay out our best arguments only to be attacked, yelled down, and misunderstood. If we’re not careful, it’s easy to get sucked into responding, which only makes matters worse.

Why is this? Why is it so impossible to dialogue and persuade?

Jonathan Haidt gives a compelling piece of the answer in his book The Righteous Mind. If you have the time, this book is worth reading. Haidt is a great writer. His concepts are convincing and the studies he interacts with are fascinating.

Here’s Haidt’s overall contention: Judgment and justification are separate processes. It’s that simple. That’s a profound statement, but I know it’s confusing. Read the book, but I’ll unpack that a little bit.

We all think we make moral judgments (what’s good, what’s bad) on the basis of carefully considered arguments. In other words, we THINK that we begin with reason and end by making a judgment. But Haidt contends that the exact opposite is true. What happens in reality, he says, is that we make a moral judgment almost instantly, and then we employ our reasoning skills to justify the judgment we’ve already made.

Perhaps that sounds exactly right to you. It explains the “confirmation bias” we all have trouble escaping. I find it extremely helpful in explaining my own actions and those I observe in others. But if you need more convincing or explaining, keep reading.

Haidt describes a study done by Alexander Todorov in which he flashed the images of two faces on a screen in front of subjects who were unfamiliar with those faces. The subjects were then asked which person seemed more competent. What Todorov did not tell the subjects is that the two faces were opponents in senatorial and gubernatorial races. 70% of the time, the candidate that subjects deemed more competent (a judgment they made in seconds) also went on to win the election.

“We think we begin with reason and end by making a judgment. But Haidt contends that the opposite is true: We make an instant moral judgment, then we employ reason to justify the judgment we’ve already made.”

What’s going on here? The participants in this study couldn’t determine anything about the person’s positions, character, beliefs, etc. But they did what people do: they made a snap judgment that determined whether or not they thought that person was competent. And their choice was America’s choice most of the time! The implication is that as much as we believe we’re weighing a candidate’s positions and character, we’re usually just voting for the person we’re predisposed to like (a decision we make instantly).

But once we’ve made a snap judgment, we instantly begin employing our reasoning to explain why we made that choice.

Haidt refers to this process as “the intuitive dog and its irrational tale.” We decide intuitively, then our mental faculties kick in to provide that rationality (which Haidt says is so unlike “rationality” as we think of it that it’s more like irrationality). He puts it more plainly by saying, “intuitions come first, strategic reasoning second.”

Our reasoning is less like a philosopher that employs wisdom to decide where we should go and more like a press secretary who has to stand before the world and explain the President’s policy decisions—decisions which she had no role in developing.

Is there any hope, then? Are we all just locked into our own intuitions, completely unable to dialogue or help each other act in wisdom rather than pure intuition?

Haidst sees hope in other studies which show that when a subject is given time to reflect, their rational faculties play a larger role in shaping their judgments. Do you see the implication there?

When we allow ourselves to respond quickly, we’re basing it all on unreasoned intuition. When we slow down enough to reflect, weigh, and consider, we give our rationality a seat at the table in deciding what we should do.

Unfortunately, most of our decisions are made quickly. Our opinions of people are formed in seconds. Our consideration of candidates and character and theological positions are more knee-jerk reactions than carefully weighed conclusions. So we rarely give ourselves a chance to slow down and form a healthy opinion. We just listen to the news station our tribe has taught us to tune into.

The truth is, you’ve already written this entire blog off, or you’ve immediately accepted it. You knew what you thought about it pretty early on. And that’s okay. But it helps to understand the process. And when we recognize the (ir)rational tale being wagged by the intuitive dog, we can choose to slow down. To engage in dialogue. To do some research or ask some questions or—what’s best—get to know some real people. Maybe then we can all have some constructive dialogue about the things that matter.

Preachers N Sneakers: Hypocrisy’s Newest Scandal

By

Ryan MacDiarmid

-

April 8, 2019

3

Farewell, Hip Mega-Church Pastors. Most excommunications happen over theology. Now it’s happening over shoes.

The newly minted Instagram account @preachersnsneakers has absolutely exploded over the last 3 weeks: from 0 to 45k followers (as of this moment). Fashionista has already written an article about it in their online mag.

The concept is simple. Take publicly available photos of celebrity pastors and look up the price tag of their shoes. Bam! Lightning in a bottle. The contagious and viral part of the equation is how freaking expensive some of these clothes are. If Rich Wilkerson’s $357 Adidas Yeezys sound expensive, what about Chad Veach’s $2,500 Jordan’s?

Indulgent luxury goods with church funds?! Farewell, Judah Smith, Chad Veach, Erwin McManus, Steven Furtick, and others!

I get it. When I first saw the prices in this Instagram account I threw up in my mouth a little bit. I seriously had no idea that shoes could even be that expensive! I looked at every single post, jaw dropped. But in an effort to fight for a little human dignity, let’s press pause and try for a moment to examine our own perspective. Let’s loosen the grip on our pitchforks just a smidge.

7 quick thoughts:

1) WE create celebrity pastors.

The only reason we know the names of these pastors to be outraged over their kicks is because we have been downloading their sermons and books and thereby making them famous. We make these people celebrities, then scorn them for acting like celebrities.

“The reason we even know who these pastors are so we can be outraged over the price of their shoes is because we have made them celebrities, then we scorn them for acting like it.”

2) They are not all the same.

Everyone on this Insta account may be wearing expensive shoes, but that doesn’t mean we should lump them all together. To be fair, there is a big difference between a $300 pair of shoes and a $2,500 pair of shoes. Some of these guys may be vain, money-loving charlatans, others may not be. But loving our neighbors as ourselves requires us to resist the pull to reduce someone else to a single caricature. We’re free to assume the worst, of course, but that’s not the path of human dignity. It’s the path of jackassery. (I know because I often go down that road.) Like the woman at the well who was ostracized by society and yet humanized by Jesus (John 4), all of these pastors have stories. Jesus would learn them. Will you?

3) We don’t always know where things come from.

Chad Veach replied to the Instagram call out by stating that these things were gifts. You don’t have to believe him, but as a pastor myself, I have been gifted many many things. It is a way that people say thank you. Two years ago a friend of mine shut down his high end men’s clothing store and gave me three bags full of clothes. I didn’t even know most of the brands. I still have no idea what they retail for. If someone snapped a picture of my jeans and told me they were $500, I would be shocked. Now, I’m not saying these guys don’t know what they are wearing, I’m just saying that it is true that sometimes people give their pastors things for free. I live in a beautiful house that I wouldn’t be able to afford, if it weren’t for the generosity of a brother in Christ who owns 50% of it. You could Zillow my house, get outraged over the value, and never know that I have a modest mortgage. No book deals, no scandalous transactions, no celebrity, simple generosity from someone who loves Jesus. We just don’t know.

5) The heart matters.

Wealth is not hypocritical. Success is not to be disdained. Men like Rick Warren, John Piper, and Francis Chan are examples of celebrity pastors who channel their wealth in ways that help others, guard against the perception of luxury, and protect themselves from the deceit of riches. I see a lot of wisdom in that. But in the end, the pastors featured on @sneakersnpreachers answer to God—not for the price tag on their shoes but for their hearts, faith, and service. Only God knows the heart. Great men of God have had money beyond measure and luxury to boot. Think of David or Solomon. Luxury alone does not signal hypocrisy. The heart does. It isn’t fair to judge these people for a single image, or even for a single vice.

6) “Expensive” is relative, and we all get spendy on something.

How much did that big vacation cost you? Do you really need the phone you’re holding in your hand? Does your car really need those upgrades? Couldn’t your house be smaller? Shouldn’t you be eating at home more often? Everyone spends money in ways others think are an absurd waste. I’ve seen broke-ass college students driving Mercedes-Benzes with leases that rival their rent. Just because nobody is scrutinizing your finances doesn’t mean you wouldn’t or don’t fall into the similar indulgences. So lighten up.

7) Everyone wants their pastor to be taken care of, but nobody wants their pastor to make more money than they do.

“I don’t know how much you think a pastor should make, but I’m pretty sure the real standard is ‘My pastor should not make more than me.'”

That’s just plain true. Everyone judges according to what they think is reasonable. Nothing that Americans spend money on is reasonable to the poor in a 3rd world country. Nothing that celebrities spend money on makes sense to the blue collar working class in Nebraska. It’s different worlds, different scales. I don’t know how much you think a pastor should make, but I’m pretty sure the real standard is “Just as long as my pastor doesn’t make more than me.” I’m not sure that’s fair.

My only pair of sneakers were a gift for my birthday 5 years ago: $120. I thought they were outrageously expensive. So I guess if shoe price is the measure of faithfulness, I’m doing pretty good, but don’t ask how much I spent on wood to build a treehouse for my kids.

Here’s the thing.

I freaking love @preachersnsneakers. It’s entertaining and mind-blowing to know that tennis shoes can be absurdly expensive. And I think accountability for those who say they follow Jesus is super important thing. Follow them, read along, have fun. But don’t let it turn you into a cynical jackass. Remember, the Bible’s message isn’t, “follow me and I will make you perfect.” It’s “follow me, and I will make you fishers men.” Even Peter denied Jesus after all, and also led thousands to Christ.

If you love preachernsneakers, hate mega church pastors, or are disillusioned with the church, then I leave you with one remaining thought: This is precisely why humans need Jesus. Sin abounds in the church and out of it!

Oh look…now there 66.3K followers on the instagram account. Religious hypocrisy sells!

If want to spread some human dignity. Please share this article!

The Church’s PR Problem

By

Mark Beuving

-

January 28, 2022

0

The Church and Christianity in the broader sense both have a major Public Relations problem. I doubt you’ll disagree. My question is this:

Have we earned the negative reputation we’ve acquired?

Barna has been watching this for decades. In their book UnChristian, David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons track the perception of Christianity from 1996, when 85% of people who did not identify as Christian held a favorable view of Christianity, to 2007 when that percentage dropped to 16%. The number of “non-Christians” who viewed the role of evangelicals in society as favorable in 2007 was 3%!

In that same 2007 study, they found that 85% of young “outsiders” (their technical term to describe people who don’t see themselves as “inside the church”) saw Christianity as hypocritical. Perhaps not surprisingly, 47% of young churchgoers agreed! 57% of “outsiders” said that Christians are quick to find fault in others. Only 16% of young “outsiders” believed that Christians consistently show love to the people around them. Along the same lines, Kinnaman and Lyons found that many young adults perceive Christians and the churches they belong to as being more devoted to self-preservation than world restoration.

These numbers are bad. I’ll address some of their more recent studies in future posts, but trust me, our PR problem hasn’t improved.

“Barna tracked the perception of Christianity from 1996, when 85% of ‘non-Christians’ held a favorable view of Christianity, to 2007 when that dropped to 16%. Have we earned the poor reputation?”

(Some get dismissive of studies like this, but let me assure you that Barna does its homework. And they love the Church. AND, Kinnaman does not believe our task is to make Christianity more popular or Jesus more palatable. He says outright: “Softening or reshaping the gospel is an utterly wrong response to the objections people raise” (UnChristian, 33). He simply wants us to understand the reputation we have garnered and ask ourselves if that’s what we want.)

So back to my question: Have we earned the negative reputation we’ve acquired?

Here’s my take: yes and no. I’ll start with no. I could list for you hundreds of names of Christians who are loving, compassionate, and who contribute positively to the world around them. These people are not any more (or less) hypocritical than the average person who fails to be all that they aspire to be. Think about it: The average unchurched person believes that people should be treated with dignity but still gets snappy when service is poor at a restaurant. He or she also believes that we have a responsibility to care for the environment but has a hard time making the sacrifices necessary to reduce their carbon footprint. We don’t typically call this person hypocritical, but it’s not that different than someone who aspires to live like Jesus yet continues to fall short. So there’s a sense in which this broad brush dismissal of Christianity and Christians has not been earned, at least by the majority of Christians I know.

But also yes, we have absolutely earned this reputation. I look around and I truly do believe that we have been collectively more invested in self-preservation than the good of the people around us. I think that we Christians have been very judgmental on certain issues. It’s not that we hate the people around us (I suppose there are always exceptions), it’s that we have failed to consider the tone we use when we speak about certain people. Or how our actions and words affect real people. How did Christianity get a reputation for being horrible to the gay community? I’d say that in many cases, we earned this reputation by being horrible to the gay community. (No, I don’t believe it’s wrong for us to disagree with someone’s lifestyle. Nor do I believe it’s wrong to tell someone that we believe that they are engaging in a sin. But I do believe we have earned a reputation for being judgmental by the way we’ve done this and by an almost complete lack of love towards the people in this community.)

My contention is that while I can point to hundreds of really amazing and loving Christians, even these people can sometimes be jackasses in the name of Jesus. I feel confident saying this because that statement is autobiographical. We have come to collectively hold an un-Jesus-like posture on many things, and we’ve all individually misrepresented Jesus in a myriad ways. All of this contributes to the poor reputation of Christians and churches.

So yes and no. But also, whether or not we’ve earned our reputation for being judgmental and hypocritical and unloving, I do know this: we currently have this reputation and we have to live with it. We’re not going to help anyone by arguing that people shouldn’t be viewing us as judgmental. Here’s reality: they see us that way. So what will we do about it?

That’s our goal in addressing Jackass Theology. We want to help the Church move back into the ways of Jesus.

I don’t think we can instantly shake the poor PR we’ve been building for a long time now. But that’s not the point of Jackass Theology. The point is to ask what Jesus wants for his church. Let’s not negate the words of Jesus by dismissing biblical teaching. No, let’s hold the words of Jesus tightly, but also pursue with greater intensity the works and ways of Jesus. I believe we’ve lost sight of this.

Some would argue that we need to stop caring about truth. You won’t find us doing that here. We need to change, but not like that. I believe our PR problem has come from mishandling the words of Jesus by divorcing them from the works and ways of Jesus. If you want to see what that looks like, I invite you to join us in this journey of addressing Jackass Theology.

Rachel Held Evans & the Fight Against Jackassery

By

Mark Beuving

-

May 6, 2019

0

Most of you know that Rachel Held Evans died late last week. Tragedy is not a strong enough word. If you’re not familiar with Rachel and her work, just go to Twitter and search for #becauseofRHE. It’ll tell you everything you need to know. Actually, that’s really all you need to know, you don’t need to waste your time reading this post. I’m not qualified to say anything about what her life and work meant. I’ve read one of her books (I started a second today), several of her blog posts, and I’ve followed her on Twitter for several years. That’s it. But I’ve seen enough to know that aside from the fact that we’re all jackasses, Rachel Held Evans was about as un-jackass as they come. And so much of her ministry was devoted to fighting jackassery. We have a lot to learn from what she spent her short life embodying.

Rachel took a lot of crap on Twitter. A LOT. She brought it on herself, but not at all in the way we usually use that phrase. I just mean that she was not afraid to make herself a target for angry, hateful people. In my experience, gracious, patient, loving people don’t intentionally step into intense conflict. Rachel was unique in that as far as I can tell. Brian Zahnd said it well when he tweeted, “It’s going to be weird coming to Twitter and not see[ing] what bear Rachel Held Evans is poking next” (@BrianZahnd). He meant that with so much respect. The day she passed he had tweeted, “Christianity has a long history of vigorous debate. But at the end of the day we belong to the body of Christ. Rachel Held Evans was an important interlocutor in our ongoing debate. Today she finished her race.”

There are exactly zero people with whom I agree on everything (which I’m sure is a type of jackass—I’ll have to start writing that post!). Rachel was one of the all people with whom I had disagreements. But I learned a lot from her writing; I was constantly challenged to think and rethink. And my grief at the loss of Rachel and my massive admiration for her are bigger than the way she made me think. I think I’ve been most inspired by the way she loved in the midst of debate.

I’ve seen Rachel take on some of the biggest bullies on Twitter. I can’t imagine how terrifying it must have been to stand up to people who called her horrible things and used Bible verses to shout hate at her. And these are people with thousands of followers eager to do the same. Yet she set what God put on her heart in a gracious but firm way and didn’t allow herself to be pushed around. In doing this, she earned the respect of people across the theological spectrum. For example, she would push back on Russell Moore from time to time (btw, NOT one of the bullies I just mentioned), but the interactions were constructive. After her death, one of his expressions of respect for Rachel was, “Let’s not conform to the pattern of this vicious social—Darwinian age. Let’s kindle kindness, even (especially!) for those outside our tribal silos” (@drmoore). Beth Moore (another conservative Moore), tweeted out, “Thinking what it was about @rachelheldevans that could cause many on other sides of issues to take their hats off to her in her death. People are run rife with grief for her babies, yes. But also I think part of it is that, in an era of gross hypocrisy, she was alarmingly honest” (@BethMooreLPM).

Shane Claiborne (@ShaneClaiborne) tweeted this quote from Rachel, and it seems an excellent summary of what she embodied for so many people from so many different traditions: “Imagine if every church became a place where everyone is safe, but no one is comfortable.” She kept people from making loud but lazy assertions and pushed us all to think more carefully and love more sacrificially.

So much of Rachel’s fight was for the dignity of marginalized people. She was tireless in fighting to see women, the LGBT community, and people of color empowered, treated with respect, given space for their voices to be heard, etc. To many people, Rachel became a sort of online pastor. She gave them so much love, encouragement, and truth through her public voice, but I’ve also heard so many stories of her reaching out personally to encourage and assist and strengthen. That’s a pastor in the truest sense, and it’s all the more impressive because she was able to do it through an online platform that most find impersonal and dehumanizing. She brought love and humanity to debates that had become dehumanized, to platforms that had become loveless, and to people who had been dismissed and mistreated their entire lives.

“Rachel Held Evans was a pastor in the truest sense, and it’s all the more impressive because she was a pastor through an online platform that most find impersonal and dehumanizing.”

Audrey Assad gave one of the most powerful statements I’ve read yet about Rachel’s impact: “I find myself praying and hoping that @rachelheldevans’ severest critics will read #becauseofRHE and see the garden she tended, the fruit it has borne, the way it has flowered in the world” (@audreyassad). I literally tear up at the thought of someone saying something like that about me when I’m gone. Her impact, ultimately, was “the garden she tended.” She was a generative person (in the rich sense of Makoto Fujimura’s Culture Care concept). She was a culture maker (in the rich sense of Andy Crouch’s Culture Making concept). She loved persistently and modeled inspiring debate on important issues, even while aggressively loving the people affected by those debates. She’s an amazing model for me of what it looks like to fight jackassery. It’s tragic that she’s gone. We’ll all have to carry the work forward in as Rachel-like a manner as we can muster.

Why We’re So Prone to Exclude

By

Mark Beuving

-

May 28, 2019

0

“Us” and “them” isn’t just a problem to fight against, it’s a universal human experience. In fact, you could argue that this is necessary to belonging: you can’t be part of a group without drawing a line around it. Exclusion is inevitable, and demonization follows on its heels.

I’ve been reading Tim Keller’s Making Sense of God, which is resonating with me on this topic. Keller presents a summary from the philosopher Miroslav Volf on “four ways that we can assert and bolster our self-worth by excluding others” (from Volf’s book Exclusion and Embrace). These are wonderfully descriptive and convicting.

(1) The most blunt and effective means of bolstering self-worth by excluding is either killing or forcing someone out of our living space. It seems barbaric, but American history and politics show we’re not above this. On a personal level, this might look like moving to a new neighborhood or joining a different church to avoid interactions with someone.

(2) Volf also lists assimilation as a means of exclusion. In this approach, you can have your arms wide open to newcomers, but the price of entry is complete assimilation. I’ll love you as long as you become just like me, adopting my values, culture, beliefs, and enemies. Keller quotes Volf: “We will refrain from vomiting you out…if you let us swallow you up.” This one stings, both as an American and as a Christian.

(3) Next is dominance. We will accept people who are different than us as long as they remain consciously inferior, allowing us to be dominant. You can belong, but only if you play your role. Keller’s examples include: only working certain jobs, only receiving certain levels of pay, and only living in certain neighborhoods. We’ve definitely seen this at work inside and outside of the Church. This makes me think of some of the crap Beth Moore has had to deal with, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

(4) The last approach to exclusion that Volf identifies is demeaning and ignoring people who are different. You can tolerate them, but you’re still disgusted by them. You ignore their opinions, needs, and contributions. Volf says we like this approach because it gives us “the illusion of sinlessness and strength.” As a Christian, are you ever proud of the way you “tolerate” weak or sinful Christians, or do you find yourself grieved that many aren’t making the same choices you do? If so, this one is yours.

I find this list convicting because it accounts for those who consciously exclude and demean, but it also leaves room for people who do this with subtlety, perhaps even unconsciously. But it’s not just the WAY in which we exclude. Some suggest that exclusion is NECESSARY for the formation of a personal identity. That honestly terrifies me! Are Ryan and I just the biggest jackasses of all (probably) for calling attention to something we just need to accept and move on with as politely as possible?

Is there no solution for this? Can we really not have an US without a THEM?

Volf (with Keller’s elaboration) explains that there is, of course, one solution to this. It’s Jesus. It’s the gospel.

Think about the absolutely game-changing power of the gospel. If it’s about finding the US who share something fundamental in common and excluding the THEM who aren’t like us, then all that binds us together is our similarity. It’s what Kierkegaard calls a PREFERENTIAL LOVE—we love the people we prefer, the people who bring us joy.

But Jesus offers us something different. He offers us humility, whereby we are freed from the compulsion to believe that we are better than everyone else. He offers us self-sacrificing love, whereby one person can put another’s best interests above their own, even incurring pain so that someone else doesn’t have to. He offers us forgiveness, whereby when an offense enters the relationship, peace and wholeness can be restored. He offers us God’s very Spirit, who transforms us from the inside so that we become a conduit of God’s love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control.

“Just as Christians spent decades copying ‘secular’ music and adding a Christian veneer, so we seem to be appropriating the vitriol around us and adding Bible verses to give it a Christian twist.”

Don’t underestimate this. Human beings are wired for “othering” in a fallen world. As Christians, we are not exempt from this. But as Christians, we claim to be transformed by the very thing the world needs in this regard. As society around us “bites and devours one another” to the point that they are “consumed by one another” (Gal. 5:15), we don’t have to play along.

I’m not convinced that we realize this. Just as Christians spent decades appropriating the musical styles of the best “secular” bands, adding a Christian veneer, so we seem to be taking the vitriol, the polarization, and the arrogant superiority that flies all around us and adding a Christian twist. We fight the way everyone else does, but we attack each other with Bible verses!

It’s gross, and it needs to change. Thank God he has given us a path forward. May we stop with all of the exclusion and lean into Jesus. He is the only hope we have.

We’re All a Little Amish

By

Mark Beuving

-

January 14, 2019

0

Judah Smith recently announced “church in the palm of your hand” in the form of his new Churchome app. We have the technology to easily connect everyone, so why not do it?

I thought of a few reasons. When I first saw Smith’s announcement post, I laughed. Honestly, I thought for it might be satire. How could this be serious? Smith’s video claimed:

“We’re passionate about connecting people with God and each other and this is maybe the most effective platform we’ve ever used in doing so… People can actually build real, tactile relationships all over the world.”

I wondered, “Does he even know what the word ‘tacticle’ means? Or ‘real’?” Right away I saw so many tweets and comments and articles confirming my instincts to shoot this thing down. It was a misguided attempt to be relevant and it’s dangerous.

But then I thought about it a little bit. I talked to some of my friends. I talked to Ryan. And with a little reflection I came to a more profound realization: I’m a huge jackass.

The thing is, churches have historically been slow to adopt new technology. We’re embarrassingly late adopters. But why?

Where would you draw the line with churches utilizing technology? Is it bad for a church to utilize a website? A podcast? An Instagram account? Most of us would say no. But each of these things were slowly and reluctantly picked up by churches.

The same thing happened in the world of education (Christian and otherwise). A few early adopters starting offering classes online, and everyone else mocked them: “They don’t care about students or education, they’re just trying to make a buck.” But then a few more colleges started offering online classes. And then a few more. Now, almost every college offers online classes. But they have found a way to offer real value through a non-traditional platform. Is this the best possible way to do it? Maybe not (though you could make a legitimate argument for it). Is it valuable? Basically every college and tons of students think so.

When radio first became popular, a group of pastors were actually fairly cutting edge in utlizing radio ministries. They saw the potential to reach millions and had a lasting impact because they decided to use that technology to carry the gospel.

When Mr. Rogers first saw television, he was appalled at the way people were using it to degrade other human beings. But he saw its potential, so he dedicated his career to investing in human dignity through this new technology. Here’s the remarkable thing: Mr. Rogers went to seminary because he was going to be a Presbyterian minister. But while all of his classmates graduated and went on to preach thousands of sermons, Fred Rogers started a kids television show. There’s absolutely no way that all of his classmates’ sermons combined had anywhere near the impact of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. He didn’t talk about Jesus on the show, but he utilized technology in a way that embodied Jesus’ mission and message, and he impacted millions of lives. (I can’t watch “Won’t You Be My Neighbor” without balling all the way through—something I have done several times already).

All that to say, I was a jackass for mocking Judah Smith. For one thing, I made huge assumptions. I mocked his use of “real” and “tactile” for app-based interactions, but later I learned that his app can connect you with in-person gatherings. He knew what the words meant; I just made uncharitable assumptions. I think Judah Smith knows what church was designed to be, and I think he sees a way that technology can help to facilitate that.

“If we don’t think Judah Smith can use an app to facilitate interactions, then we’re being Amish. And we’re allowed to do that. But we’re not allowed to be jackasses about it.”

Here’s the thing. We’re all using technology in all of our churches, whether it’s instruments, sound systems, projectors, websites, or whatever. We have just drawn a line regarding how much is too much. That’s a total jackass move.

Think of the Amish: they’re known for totally rejecting technology. But it’s not true. Once upon a time, things like wagons and pulleys and even shovels were new technology. The Amish use all of those things; they just got to a point where they decided to avoid all technology developed after 1800 (or whenever, I have no idea). And good for them. As long as they’re not being jackasses about it.

So the thing is, if we don’t think Judah Smith can use an app to facilitate interactions, then we’re being Amish. We’re choosing an arbitrary cutoff for which technologies are compatible with the gospel. And we’re allowed to do that. But we’re not allowed to be jackasses about it. I was. And I’m sorry.