Perseverance: Part 3 of what I learned about the church post college

Perseverance: keeping on despite difficulties and hardships.

Finding the right word to describe the move from North Dallas to Irving has been difficult. The first part in this series was about damage done, the second part was about my recovery and this part... this part is about the events that led up to me walking out of a church saying, "I'm NEVER going back THERE again." There, in this case, is a specific church across the street from where I currently live. Even now, just thinking about what I saw and experienced makes me angry. My anger rises from a place of truth seeking and is justified (which is why this note was almost called defiance). I will not back down from what I saw and experienced, because what the church across the street practices is wrong. In all my experience of going to churches, even to the ones who have hurt me, I would go back to them as a place to worship God. Why? Because I believe the other places I have been are seeking truth and discovering what it means to live it out. They are not perfect. There is a difference between the broken path of seeking truth and the manufactured lies of manipulation that people use to support their version of the truth.

My journey didn't start with anger. It started with peace and a desire to extend grace. A desire to live, worship and work in the same community, even in a community that didn't exactly fit my pre-conceived notions of what 'church' should be like. I was willing to set my culture aside to see what was going on, as long as they lived the truth in their worship experience. Over the course of four weeks, five services and attempts at getting involved I became convicted they were not corporately living the truth.

On week one I was impressed. I arrived early, but I didn't exactly know where their front door was; incidentally I came in the back. On my left was a chapel with stained glass windows, pews and an organ. As I'd seen this kind of split chapel thing before I didn't think much of it, but thought the idea of the room was pretty cool. Don't forget your heritage. Wandering around their well kept facility with their numerous staff and volunteers all preparing for the service, it appeared many people were engaged in the service at the church. Continuing my exploration, I found their statements of faith, made my way to the sanctuary and sat down with my pen to circle, highlight and annotate what I found interesting before the service started. I could tell that some of their beliefs were very grounded and supported, others I had questions about. Instead of having a sit-down meeting with one of their staff I chose to see how they lived out their beliefs.

Before the service started, Becky greeted me in my seat. She asked how I was doing, if I needed anything and was very warm and congenial. I asked her if I could have a Bible, to which she went in search of one and ended up giving me hers. Becky left a great first impression. I could tell she had been coached to care about everyone who came in to their facility. I watched her do this same greeting routine every week I was there.

At the end of week one was Good Friday. A day I've experienced as a reflection of the suffering of Christ, his desire for the world to be whole, contemplate my own sins, find forgiveness and move on. In other words its a pretty somber day. I arrived late, but ALL the volunteers were helpful, looked me in the eyes, smiled and helped me find a seat. No kidding. I remember coming in and ALL their heads turned with a smile. It was kinda creepy, in a warm and welcoming way.

The service did not meet my expectations. They celebrated the life of Christ. Preached passionately about forgiveness and had a 'come down and accept Jesus' moment. They also took an offering and spent time talking about why tithing was important (if you want God to bless you give to God; and they mentioned their five different ways of giving money), mentioned their artists latest album and seemed pretty happy about Good Friday.

That was the strangest Good Friday service I've ever been too. I obviously had my hang ups, but talked my way out of it, because at least they talked about Jesus.

Easter follows Good Friday. Easter is usually the day we celebrate the life of Jesus, and it's supposed to be a celebration. They nailed the celebration part, but they also had the tithing talk, album release and something else: they talked about water baptism. Their exegesis of a single passage about baptism was good, but they only looked at one passage. And then invited five (no joke they labeled all five categories (it might have been four, but definitely not six)) to come forward and be baptized in the parking lot. They basically said, "if you haven't followed the baptism formula then you aren't Christian." (to which point I would have liked to have answered back, "I'm Catholic!") The way they handled that whole talk was masterful. Not kidding, they were super persuasive. When it comes to public persuasive speaking the leaders at this church had mastered the art form. After the service I decided to check out what was happening in the parking lot.

The parking lot had dunk tanks. Okay they were more like cattle troughs. They had designated baptizers, people with towels, black t-shirts plus shorts for people to get baptized in, a video and photography crew, a microphone being passed around (yep total safety hazard) and people to applaud. It was a baptismal frenzy!

I found the whole thing kinda out of place. Their was a definite communal celebration, but it also felt like their was a communal pressure to fit in. This started to nag at me, but again, I decided to push it down and come back the next week.

The next week they announced how many people they had baptized and how many people had come to faith. They also had the tithing talk, mentioned the album release, had the come to Jesus moments and then I picked up on something else. Every service they highlighted a volunteer and the whole congregation would applaud them. At first I thought this was cool: its nice to be recognized. But again I felt that pressure to conform, that only the coolest people were a part of the church, volunteered and were worthy of being recognized. I also noticed that every service they talked about how great the band was, and people would also talk about how great the pastor was. There was a lot of praise going around, but it didn't feel real. It felt like a means of control, telling people that coming to this particular building and doing things our way was the only way to live. This really bothered me, and I couldn't push it down any more. Yet, I decided to give them another chance.

As a young man in a new city, I wanted to get plugged in somewhere. Over the course of my time at the church across the street, they announced the start of small groups. I decided I would get involved with one along my interest lines. I wanted to be a part of a men's bible study. They didn't have one. I could play soccer, football, basketball, golf or do some kind of other activity, but not bible study. Not as a young man, with other young men. If I was a woman, they had at least four different kinds of women's bible study. They had been meticulously planned around life stages, but there was no men's bible study to be found. Unless I wanted to be part of a young co-eds group (which honestly felt like another form of manipulation and lack of in-depth study). I inquired about this lack of men gathering together, searched to see if there was ANY group of men who were gather together to read and study the word together, but there wasn't a single one. Not one! At that church it is not important that men get together and read the word, they simply have to accept what is preached to them.

My last week there I walked in with questions. I heard the tithing talk (did you know we have five ways you can give us money?), the call to accept Jesus (for the fourth week in a row) the volunteer praise, the artist praise and the pastor praise: there was so much praise in that building I couldn't hear them praising God. The final nail in the coffin was when they brought out children to praise their leaders. I couldn't stand it anymore. I walked out.

That beautiful chapel I mentioned at the start? That's where the old people worship. The people who helped fund this church and build it into what it is now. They had been removed from the rest of the body. A part of me wonders if they know what's happening in their main sanctuary. If they know they've traded the worship of God for the worship of their people. If that's what they wanted, or if they were persuaded into the lie by persuasive preachers who talked up Christian values, but had motives for themselves.

My anger consumed me. How is it that a group of sincere God seeking people could end up wasting so much? How is it that they got caught up in their own beliefs, but their beliefs don't match who they are? How is it that they could so meticulously plan every aspect of their services, festivities and sermons but forget to make room for God? How dare they make such a mockery of the gospel that Jesus bled and died for! They replaced it with happy feelings and crowd approval. And for what? Money!? A place of honor at the table!? Higher numbers of baptism but lower numbers of disciples?

Disgusting.

I refused to go to any church the next week.

In my anger I lashed out about the violence we do to ourselves when we only focus on Sunday. That's all the church across the street seemed to care about. They spent time together, but that time seemed like a refuge from the rest of the world, instead of a encouraging each other onwards to go out, be in the world and work towards its healing and restoration.

I couldn't drink their kool-aid of self-praise anymore.

In my anger and disgust something else revived. A desire for the Church to be whole. I know there will always be places like the church across the street, and I will always have a passionate disgust for the violence they do to the gospel, but I believe that we all can be one. We will not all practice the same way, but we all can live the same gospel. I have met groups of Christians whose beliefs look very similar to those of the church across the street, but live them out in a way that is holy and pleasing to the LORD, despite their personal imperfections.

As for my personal stance to the lies I encountered across the street? Let them preach. Let God judge. It is impossible to preach Jesus perfectly. There is a difference between mistaken preaching and purposeful actions. I believe the church across the street has no clue the violence they are doing to the gospel, and its not my place to barge in, as an outsider, and tell them how to fix themselves. I would need a relationship with them first before I could speak truth into their lives. As there is no relationship, there is no opportunity to speak truth.

A week after I quit Sunday, I went to a different church. How I ended up there is another story.