Tag: Church

Thoughts on Mars Hill

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(First published January 18, 2022)

I just finished listening to the final episode of the podcast series, “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill.” It was a tough haul, hearing of so much woundedness caused by the leadership of Pastor Mark Driscoll. The clip in each week’s intro of his screaming made me cringe. This isn’t a dissertation post to examine all the Mars Hills issues, but rather a quick, not-super-organized reflection on the overall series and what it has to say about church.

First, it reminded me in a powerful way of the vulnerabilities of our pastors. Pastors are just men, after all, subject to faults and failings, battling a sin nature just like everyone on this planet. The enemy’s plans are always to steal, kill, and destroy, and when he can take out a spiritual leader through snaring and flaring his intrinsic vulnerabilities—a leader with so much influence, at that—he hits the jackpot (or so he thinks..for a limited time). We hear about it often, and I can think of one such case in the headlines this past year. The wreckage is great: pastor/family ruined, congregation bruised and bleeding, social media cacophonous with condemnation for Christians, the name of Jesus and the gospel dragged through the mud. Pastors need an accountability network, close friends who will tell them the truth, access to pastoral counseling themselves, and consistent prayer cover.

Second, it made me think how, on a smaller scale, there are many churches functioning in the dysfunctionality of a personality cult pastor. In one of the early episodes, Mike Cosper discusses the converging events of a charismatic pastor with a big, “unique” vision spun for a congregation who believes they are in on a special move of God. The seeming urgency of the mission and their “chosenness” for it causes those in the pews to push aside the red flags of false doctrine, spiritual abuse, and unbiblical practices. They sign on to the leader’s spin, sometimes announced from the pulpit, regarding people who leave either because they’ve seen the toxicity or because they have been fired for confronting it. The congregation will, as Cosper also explores, justify the means to achieve the ends, nodding to each other that there’s expected “collateral damage” (Mark’s “bodies behind the bus”) along the way to great evangelistic “success.” Further, there are people in the seats who are abuse survivors of one trauma or another whose personalities are wired to get hooked into further victimization, without realizing they’re walking down a road already traveled. Lastly, some are just so hungry and thirsty for connection with Jesus that they’ll push aside the problems in order to gain the glimmers of the gospel that do come through. The result is that many churches in this country, small and large, are operating in dysfunctionality that echoes Mars Hill to one degree or another.

Third, I ponder the necessity to a healthy church model of a “plurality of elders” leadership team. Driscoll’s narcissism, arrogance, and growing hardheartedness to the love/grace/mercy of the gospel created a nightmare that no one successfully confronted. Although there were two other founding pastors of Mars Hill, Driscoll was allowed to push them aside and “rule” unchecked. I don’t know a lot about church leadership structure, but it seems like a no-brainer that to allow only the senior pastor to set policy, determine direction, and hire/fire church pastors/staff is a recipe for at best, a lopsided church and at worst, as in the case of Mars Hill, tyranny. (See Acts 15 for how a healthy church handles a difficult policy decision.) A pastor who understands his own fallibility enough to establish a leadership structure with inherent checks and balances (i.e., men/women who are allowed, even encouraged, to oppose his decisions if unbiblical) is both wise and humble. Further, people determining whether or not to make a new church their home would be wise to ask if this kind of structure is in place.

I’m genuinely sad for those wounded by Mark Driscoll and the Mars Hill leadership team (many of whom, either in the midst of the chaos or since, have realized their roles in that system, repented, re-clarified their relationships with Christ, and sought reconciliation where possible). Some of the stories were just heartbreaking, especially when shaming and shunning were involved. For those who have never been able to return to church or to Christ, who now question their faith entirely and want nothing to do with Christians, I want to say—”Wait, don’t let Satan win! This is exactly what he wanted!” I want to tell them that man and an unbiblical church failed them, but that Jesus didn’t, and that His heart is broken that they were battered.

I’m also sad for those in leadership who no longer feel qualified to minister to God’s people, despite their now being on firm footing again with Jesus and others. If anything, they may be more qualified now than before their personal failures; see the biblical example of Peter, who Jesus felt fit to lead the Jerusalem church after his denial hours before He went to Calvary. Peter wasn’t ready till he was wrecked. Some of these folks might actually be ready now to lead compassionately and closer to the gospel than ever, aware of their need for accountability, biblical counseling on an ongoing basis, and a solid team of humble men and women to serve alongside.

Well, that’s my quick take on the Mars Hill podcast series. I felt it instructive and cautionary, a hard listen but a good lesson.

“Then Jesus said, ‘Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.’ Matthew 11:28-30, NLT

“Are you one of us?”

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(First published September 12, 2019).

My husband and I were at the movies a few weeks ago. We’d gone to see a Christian movie that had just been released that day.

The theater was nearly empty, probably because it was actually the first screening of this new movie. We sat in the area hubby likes best: bottom row of the “top” section. No one in front of us, plenty of leg room. Up above us, a handful of rows back, were a group of five “older” women (I’m #forever49, so draw your own conclusions) (note: as of this re-publication I am now #tosixtyandbeyond!), happily clucking and chirping in conversation as longtime older friends do. My thought: that’s my Christian girlfriends and me in some years. Grin. There were maybe three or four other people in the theater, scattered above all of us.

Note this, because it’s important: happy flock of ladies would have seen us come in and sit down. We were the only people in front of them.

Ok. Great movie. Prayers, faith, Scripture, the gospel, salvations, miracles. End of movie.

Because I’m #forever49, I headed to the restroom where I found the clucking flock. No surprise. Grin. But as I walked in, one was on her way out, on the phone with what was clearly bringing her bad news. I was immediately sad for her. The flock headed out to the hallway to comfort her, and that’s where I found them when I exited the bathroom myself.

The woman who’d had the phone call was distressed, and the rest were asking questions and gathering information. I could tell someone was in the hospital. I felt sad for the hurting woman, and stood about 20 or 30 feet away observing; not to be rude, but because I was thinking about the fact that we were obviously all Christian women….who had just emerged from a Christian movie…and one of us needed what Christianity offers.

I’m on two prayer teams. One for the past 15 years, the other for a couple of months. Prayer is what I do. I wrote a book about prayer. I believe in prayer. I have seen oodles of answered prayer. Prayer is my place in the body of Christ, my spiritual gift that I exercise on behalf of my church, my family, my friends, and probably a thousand people over the years who I have never seen in person.

And here was a woman who needed prayer. I stood there waiting for the right time to walk over and say, “Can I pray for you?”

But suddenly one of the women declared, “Let’s go to prayer,” and they huddled up as she began to pray over the hurting woman. Obviously they believed in prayer too, so I stepped a bit out of my comfort zone to walk over and join them. I placed my hands gently on the backs of two women in the group and just silently agreed with the pray-er. This is good, right? The body of Christ, doing what we’re supposed to do? In unity?

Not so fast.

After the prayer was over, the women all turned to look at me. Understandable. I’ve just invaded their prayer bubble and I should ‘splain myself. I began to. I told the woman who’d had the phone call that I could tell she’d just had bad news, and that I am on a prayer team at my church.

Before I could go any further, I became aware that the woman next to me was restless. A bit uncomfortable. I didn’t know quite what that was about, but went on with my conversation, requesting if I could put the hurting woman’s loved one on our prayer chain. But unable to tolerate her discomfort anymore, restless woman kind of blurted out:

“Are you one of us?!”

Hmmm. “One of us?” As in, human? woman? Christian?

I figured she meant am I also a Christian (I mean, I did just say I have led a prayer team for 15 years at my church, but maybe she missed that part), and turned to assure her I was. I get it—I was a prayer-bubble-crasher, and that’s a little weird. I can see why that might have made her a little suspicious, but I was in the middle of ‘splainin myself. Just hang on, dear one.

I turned back to the hurting woman to gather some information about her loved one and ask for that person’s name as well as her own. But before I could get much further, the uncomfortable woman was uncomfortable again and loudly pronounced,

“We go to (well-known church in this city).”

It seemed to be thrown down like a battle standard in front of me. Clearly this woman’s identity was much wrapped up in her belonging to this church (again, a super great church), and she needed to know whether or not I had a battle standard from the same army as hers. I felt compassion for her unrest, even as her two questions were being tucked away in my heart as a bigger issue to grapple with after this conversation was done.

I gently responded to her with “ I go to ( well known church in this city).” Another woman reassured restless woman of my now-proven authenticity:

“Oh, that’s a good one.”

Wasn’t aware we were in a ratings game here, but I could almost feel their collective silent breath of relief. I wasn’t a cult member, witch, or from-an-unknown-church-weirdo. Because I go to (well-known church in this city), I pass the test. Their prayers are safe. They don’t have to re-pray because I had somehow contaminated the prayer huddle. I finished my conversation with hurting woman, assured her of our church’s prayers, and headed out of the theater.

As I walked away, the buzz started among them. “I saw her standing over there looking at us.” “She just walked up and put her hand on my back!” Ssssh, she might hear you. Grin.

Now, remember: these women had seen my husband and me enter the theater and sit in front of them. We had all been at the Scripture-filled, prayer-answered, miracle-happening movie together. To top it off, I WAS WEARING MY “LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER” T-shirt fercryinoutloud!

We need to talk about this, body of Christ. We got some ‘splainin to do.

First, let me say that I would never recognize any of these women if I saw them again on the street. And they were truly dear ladies who clearly love Jesus and have solid faith and the boldness to put their arms around each other and pray in the hallway of a movie theater. They did nothing wrong in this story; I’m not offended, shocked, or mad. To me they are simply representative of a dynamic in the church that we need to address.

In John 17, Jesus, in His great priestly prayer before he goes to the cross, says to His Father:

“I am praying not only for these disciples but also for all who will ever believe in me through their message. I pray that they will all be one, just as you and I are one—as you are in me, Father, and I am in you. And may they be in us so that the world will believe you sent me…I am in them and you are in me. May they experience such perfect unity that the world will know that you sent me and that you love them as much as you love me.” (verses 20-21, 23).

Sadly, I think too often these days we major in the minors. The headlines are shrieking events that should, from Matthew 24 and 2 Timothy 3 and other such passages, have us watching the skies. Millions are suffering without the gospel who live next door to us and work one desk over and sit across the lunch table from us…but instead we get sucked into pointing fingers at other Christians’ social media posts and fact-checking each other’s faith qualifications. (Again, total grace to the sweet flock ladies; they just got me to thinkin’). Are we not often so suspicious of each other that Jesus might shake His head and say, “This isn’t unity”?

You, child, you’re an arm. She’s a leg. See her over there? She’s an eye. Join up and pray. Be a body.

The body of Christ isn’t just all the parts of ministry that make up the place you go on Sunday. The body of Christ is believers in all the healthy Bible-teaching churches in this city…country…world.

Now please don’t take me wrong: I am NOT espousing a globalist, biblically compromising, one-size-fits-however-you-want-it-to doctrine. I still and will always to my last breath believe:

  • The Word of God is inerrant, every letter God-breathed. If the Bible says something is sin, it is sin. Still. Today. Yep.
  • God created the heavens and the earth.
  • Satan is a created being. He isn’t Jesus’ opposite, and he doesn’t rule hell. It’s his destination, not his domain.
  • We are sinners, every single one of us. Me. You. Yep.
  • Jesus is God, not a good man, a prophet, or one of many inspirational historical figures.
  • There is one way to salvation: grace through faith, and that not of our own, through the blood of Jesus. He is the only way to heaven. Period.
  • Jesus died for our sin, and it is paid for in full. He rose after three days, walked the earth for 40 days more, and then returned to heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father.
  • He will return in just the same manner as He ascended.
  • There will be judgment for those who do not acknowledge Him as Lord, and eternity in hell. There will be no judgment but rather eternity in heaven for those who do. Hell. Heaven. Period. Yep.
  • The Trinity is a fact, all three persons equally God, the Holy Spirit the down payment of our inheritance given at the time we confess with our mouths our sin and our Savior.
  • Each of us is given spiritual gifts at the discretion of the Holy Spirit to carry out our life assignments, in our generation, so that the body of Christ works together in unity.

These issues are non-negotiable doctrine for those of us calling ourselves biblical Christians. So I’m not saying we aren’t to be discerning about with whom we’re partnering in prayer. What I am saying is, for those of us who agree on these fundamentals….but differ on other not-as-foundational subjects…it’s time for us to put down our pointing fingers and grab each other’s hands.

One of the neatest Bible studies I’ve been involved in was at my friend Glenda’s house. Using a Jon Courson commentary, we went through books of the Bible chapter by chapter. We represented a variety of churches and traditions, but together, we studied God’s Word, discussed it, learned, and prayed for each other.

The church the happy flock women go to? It’s denominational. Mine? Isn’t. Theirs features traditional worship, a choir in robes. Mine, contemporary, in jeans and T-shirts. Theirs runs a brick and mortar school. Mine, a homeschool. Together, we agreed in prayer for someone in crisis. I added one-more-intercessing-soul…and then about 20 more when I put her on the prayer chains on which I serve. That’s unity.

Let’s start from sameness and sort out the dangerous doctrine if it arises, rather than suspiciously sniff from the get-go. If someone crashes our prayer bubble, let’s pray now and let God sort out if her prayer reached His heart or not. It’s good to ask questions, but let’s not miss the point of Jesus’ prayer: unity, so that the world will believe God sent Him. Further, it doesn’t matter what church I go to and what church you go to. Our churches don’t qualify our character. Our churches don’t determine our eternity. The best question that sweet restless woman could have asked me is: “Is Jesus your Lord?” Resounding yes. Ok, we’re on common ground. Let’s prayer-huddle.

What could happen if we did?

Deep Breath: No, the Church Isn’t Falling Apart

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(First published July 22, 2021)

In Matthew 16, Jesus takes his disciples somewhere you would not expect a Bible teacher, especially God Himself, to take His students: the “gates of hell.”

Caesarea Philippi, a city in northern Israel not far from the Sea of Galilee, was known to be given over to the worship of Greek gods. Jesus led His group to a cave north of the city reputed to be the birthplace of the Greek god, Pan (the city, in fact, had been called Panias until renamed by the Roman leader Herod Philip); it was believed that this cave was where fertility gods spent the winter before reemerging through the waters of the underground spring. Maybe those thin-skinned gods couldn’t handle the harsh Israeli winters, or perhaps they had to rest up for all the hijinks you can read about in any Greek mythology book. At any rate, the entrance to this cave was called “the gates of hell,” and this is where Jesus asked the question every person on earth must answer for him/herself:

“Who do you say that I am?”

Peter, as usual the first to speak (the tendency got him into trouble a few times), nailed it: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

Jesus praised Peter’s confession of faith and took it a step further: that on this rock (play on Peter’s name, which meant Rock) He would build His church and—here’s the text for this post—”the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” Many scholars think Jesus was referring to Peter’s confession of faith in Him as the Messiah as the foundation of the modern church.

Let’s see how Jesus’ declaration has held up since He said it.

Jewish persecution: Stephen, arguably the first martyr, was stoned as Saul, a chief harasser of Jesus’ followers (later to become Paul, author of 2/3 of the New Testament), looked on. After this, a fire of Jewish persecution began that scattered disciples throughout Judea and Samaria. Imprisonment and beatings were common for followers of “The Way.” What happened? The church preached the gospel everywhere they went, and grew.

Roman persecution: Nero. Marcus Aurelius. Decius. Trebonianus Gallus. Valerian. We’re talking about Christians thrown to lions for public entertainment, covered in tar and set on fire as torches, sewn up in the skins of wild animals and released to dogs. What happened? The church met in the catacombs, and grew.

Through the years, opposition and persecution has come to the church in every part of the world where it has found a foothold: the Middle East, Europe, China, Japan, Russia, North Korea, India, Africa. The result? The church keeps growing.

In fact, the church has survived 2000 years of imprisonment, torture, executions, denial of basic human rights, threats, intimidation, losses of jobs and housing. Family members have been torn from each other’s arms and then beaten or killed in front of each other. Unspeakable torments have been inflicted on those who refuse to retract their faith in Jesus as the Messiah, Son of the living God.

2021. Because the internet, we now have current information on the plight of persecuted Christians all over the world; if you’re interested in the shocking facts, here is a “World Watch 2021” page with all the information. We know that 2.4 billion people on the planet identify themselves as Christians. Think of it: from that group of less than 20 ordinary men gathered at the “gates of hell” that day, 2.4 billion people now confess Jesus as Messiah, Son of the living God. According to Open Doors, 3.4 million of these Christians experience persecution for their faith, and last year more than 4700 were martyred.

However many times the gates of hell have attempted to prevail, they’ve never been able to avail.

This has all been a background perspective for the point I want to make in this blog. If you spend much time on social media these days (I actually try to spend progressively less as time goes on), you may think the church is teetering on the edge of extinction and battle stations have been called before all systems fail. I want to reassure you that it is not.

Last year when churches were shuttered during COVID lockdowns, it appeared, from the plethora of frantic posts, that American Christianity was collapsing. Not a whole lot of people countered these posts with the facts that restaurants, ballparks, nail salons, post offices, and yogurt shops were closed as well. Churches were shuttered because they were indoor gatherings of sometimes hundreds of people, sitting for lengthy periods, all breathing the same air during a pandemic of an airborne virus, but from these posts it appeared that floodgates of imminent demise were about to eradicate His people. Yet we had options to live stream services, meet outside, Zoom home fellowships, etc. so we could encourage each other, worship, and hear the Bible taught by our pastors (need I say, all these freedoms many of those on Open Doors’ World Watch page do not enjoy). Further, your church has been open again, probably for months now, as has mine. As are restaurants, ballparks, nail salons, post offices, and yogurt shops. The church survived, and I would not be surprised to find that it has grown since March 2020, much because so many online options were suddenly available.

Posts decrying the harassment and mistreatment of American Christians continue to fill social media feeds. The issues are many, but the sentiment is the same: we need to fight so the church doesn’t fall. This fighting seems to include re-posting sometimes untrue articles, writing elaborate and emotional diatribes against politicians/political parties, and shaming fellow believers who don’t rally to the cause.

Let me stop here and take a clarifying stand. I do not disagree with the truth that Christians are increasingly restricted, legislated against, untolerated, and verbally attacked these days. It is shocking to me to hear how viciously the word “Christian” (which means “little Christ”) can come out of a person’s mouth. It grieves me on behalf of the Lord who hung on the cross for those who spit His name. I do not deny that faith-based systems are under attack and that we are not being afforded the freedom of speech and exercise of our biblical beliefs that should be matter-of-fact under the Constitution of the United States. I know things are darkening as never before in this nation, and I agree that we cannot just roll over and let them happen without a squeak of complaint.

This also needs clarifying: these are not exactly Nero’s persecutions. At this point, persecution of the American church looks like Facebook jail, not torture chambers. No one is being publicly flogged or being forced to watch their children’s eyes gouged out. We know from the book of Revelation that for believers here during the Tribulation, these kinds of things will happen…and we can see how current restrictions and intolerances could lay the groundwork for that, but as of today in America, you are free to be a Christian walking down the street with your Bible in your hand, humming to the worship playlist in your AirPods.

So yes, we need to wisely mark the times in which we live and where they land on the Kingdom calendar. We need to pray, hard and long and consistently. We need to vote. We need to respect authority, but not agree to edicts that violate Scripture. We must be willing to share the gospel in conversational moments given to us by God in our friendships and family gatherings. We must use our social media to shine the light of Jesus and the hope of redemption.

Paul had good counsel for his disciple Timothy, who didn’t have Facebook or Twitter but ministered in a pretty challenging social climate just like us: “And a servant of the Lord must not quarrel but be gentle to all, able to teach, patient, in humility correcting those who are in opposition, if God perhaps will grant them repentance, so that they may know the truth, and that they may come to their senses and escape the snare of the devil, having been taken captive by him to do his will.” 2 Timothy 2:24-26. Paul told Timothy the ultimate goal was the repentance and redemption of those who opposed him.

Folks: “..on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it.” Jesus doesn’t need our help to keep His church going. He’s not stressed, angry, or tearing His hair out. He’s not calling an emergency council of the Trinity: “Father, Holy Spirit, we’ve got a serious problem going on in the American church! Got any ideas?” He’s not appearing to us in dreams and visions urging us to repost rants and rally an army of stirred-up saints. He’s got this. In fact, He told us things would get crazy near the end (Matthew 24), so if things are getting crazy, guess what? Whether in a day, week, month, decade, or century, He’s about to call this thing done, because it’s been firmly under His control since Day 1. He will wrap it all up, and I’m thinking we will then realize we didn’t have to worry about our government or “the other side” of the political aisle destroying the church. Surprise! The gates of hell didn’t prevail. I’m thinking we will find ourselves wishing we’d used the time, instead, to gently do life with the people in our immediate face-to-face circles who needed to know Jesus loves and saves and would come again for those who wanted Him.

Let’s let Jesus keep His church going. He’s got a perfect track record since the day He committed to do so back at Caesarea Philippi. Let’s go and make disciples instead.