Looking for the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Should I move or get a new key?


Recently, I noticed that my house key was bent. A few months ago, I had noticed that my car key was bent and did nothing. It broke off in the trunk lock and is still there. Even though I can be a bit slow on the uptake, immediately upon noticing the worn key, I thought of replacing it. The thought of ruining a lock and not being able to get into my house motivated me.



I soon took in my bent key in to get it replaced. The salesperson was very knowledgeable about locks and hardware. He took one look at the key and suggested I bring in a different key. “It may break when we duplicate it,” he said, and again, I had visions of being locked out of our home. So the next day, I took in a different key. He looked at it and informed me that it wasn’t an original, but a copy. “A copy of a copy may not work well. A copy isn't exact, and the slight imperfections get magnified in each duplication process.” The copy did work, but not as well as it’s predecessor. It tended to stick and not open the lock smoothly; and wouldn't work at all in one deadbolt. A copy of the copy of the copy might not work at all. Suddenly, I understood a whole different issue that has troubled me.



Why are so many existing churches often unable to “open” the promises of fruitfulness and start-up churches often do better? The psychology of newness attracting attention explains part of it, but the implication bothers me. Abandoning ministries and facilities and establishing new ones as a means to growth seems a silly method to get a right result. And leaving one local church to go to another when we're bored or annoyed is much the same. It would be like me moving when my key is worn out.



Actually, of course, it’s more complicated than my analogy. If you are a part of a denomination or movement that has had a heritage of godliness, then there was a moment when God met that group of people who started the movement. They responded to truth revealed, faithfulness unveiled, and grace made real. These things became the pattern of a key that opened the door to the Father’s room, and they went in. They invited others to join them and this next generation copied that key. The friends of newly invited wanted entry and were given new copies of the copies of the key. Each generation of key was slightly less accurate and opened the door with successively increasing difficulty. Finally, entry is no longer possible. The copy of the copy of the copy of the copy of the copy is not usable. The key is almost accurate with differences that aren't noticeable unless directly compared to the original. But no longer will it open the door. Movements of God stop moving and the majesty of God is the memory of an earlier generation, locked away in the grave of the past—now only apparition. We believe that ghost of glory to be a remnant of reality and at times we see it dimly and long to see what our fore-bearers saw. But the real life is locked away.

Experiential truth cannot be accurately replicated, it must be received from the source. What I've experienced with God, or what my spiritual ancestors experienced, will not open the door to God for you. We often mistakenly believe that the experience and understanding of those who have preceded us is a finished key when in fact it is a key blank. It's prepared to fit into the keyhole--the shape and grooves are appropriate. But each individual, local church, and movement of God must be shaped by the truth and person of God. Like the Samaritans, who were given a key blank as they listened to the woman at the well speak about Jesus, we must gain from what others have learned. And also like them, we must also seek Him ourselves and let Him etch and mark us with His truth, accurately keying us so we are able open the doors that He desires.

Empty edifices are evidence of a copied key that no longer opens the door to the Presence of God. Apart from attraction to newness, church plants or changes in location often are successful because the people are forced to not rely solely on what they've received from others. They must also seek God. And, as promised, they find Him. But it seems to me that often it's a case of moving instead of re-keying--using a change of geography to affect a change of heart. So much work and expense invested when all that was really needed was a visit to the Master Locksmith. But don't we usually choose work over prayer?

Personally, I'd like to avoid the move. I'm weary from my hard work. I hope I've finally learned a lesson. I choose to be re-keyed.

Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, "He told me everything I ever did." So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. And because of his words many more became believers. They said to the woman, "We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world." John 4:39-42

Sunday, October 10, 2010

“The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult and and left untried.” (G.K. Chesterton)

"Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven will enter...” (Jesus)

I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.
(Mohandas Gandhi)

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.” "By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (Jesus)

Thomas Jefferson was patriot, president, writer, inventor, more honest than most of us. In addition to all these things he accomplished in his life, he also compiled “The Jefferson Bible” from which he deleted the parts that presented difficulties to him. In a midnight moment of clarity, I, too, would admit that sections of scripture challenge me deeply. But as an avowed Bible-believing follower of Jesus, I cannot cut passages out of the Bible—at least literally. But what can I do with statements that are unimaginable, unobtainable, and undeniably integral to the teachings of Christ? He won't forgive me if I don't forgive others. Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the Kingdom of God. If I would come after Him I must deny himself. Love my neighbor as I love myself. Lose my life to gain it, keep hold of it and lose it. Show my love for Christ through obedience. If I don't embrace these truths, I must ignore, bypass, explain away, or bury them in my theology. I fear that Jesus would have sought out an honest heretic and passed by a hypocrite when He walked the shores of Galilee and that He does the same now.

What would happen if we stopped going to church and became the Church? How would it be different if we stopped saying, “Lord, Lord,” and gave ourselves to knowing what Jesus said and then to understanding and obeying? What would those around us say if our love for one another was no longer just words but a self sacrificial lifestyle? What if we saw our mission not as enjoying forgiveness, but giving it? How would the kingdom of darkness respond if our first priority was the Kingdom of God instead of possessions, security, comfort, and recognition?

The early believers were wildly successful in drawing others to Jesus because following Christ was not an option, it was the only life they could image. For them, Chesterton could not say it was found difficult and let untried. They abandoned themselves to the promises, premises, and provisions of Jesus and found Him faithful. And He has not changed.

I have my own personalized version of the Jefferson Bible, much shortened by ignoring and ignorance. I want to put those difficult passages back in. I would rather try obedience and fail than think it too difficult to attempt. And He did say, “I will never fail you nor forsake you.”

If our faith is real, if Jesus is real, then let us pursue with abandon all that we profess.