Jared C. Wilson's Blog, page 26

How Christianity Flourishes

Christian mission has always thrived by surging in the margins and under the radar. When we somehow get into positions of power, the wheels always come off. This is pretty much the way it’s always been. I once heard Steve Brown relate this story on the radio: “A Muslim scholar once said to a Christian, ‘I cannot find anywhere in the Qur’an that it teaches Muslims how to be a minority presence in the world. And I cannot find anywhere in the New Testament where it teaches Christians how to be a majority presence in the world.’”

Indeed, as Christianity spread throughout the first few centuries as a persecuted minority people, the conversion of Constantine paved the way for its becoming the official state religion of the Roman Empire by the end of the fourth century. That’s quite a turnaround for some backwater sect splintering off an oppressed Palestinian Judaism. But as my old religion professor in college, M. B. Jackson, used to say, “When everyone’s a Christian, no one is.” And once Christianity became the official religion, the church lost its prophetic voice and its vibrancy.

Many religions, like Islam for example, seem to thrive on conquest and power. Christianity grows best under hardship. There are more Christians in China today, for instance, where free expression of faith is illegal, than the total population of the United States. Christianity is in decline in America, and Christendom is already in ruins in Europe, but in the East and in Africa, where it is new, a grassroots movement, and/or under persecution, it is spreading like wildfire.

I sometimes wonder if God has set the growth of Christianity to work this way to keep in the forefront of our minds the treasure and glory of heaven over and above the treasure and glory of earth. Jesus sets the tone for Christians’ quiet mission this way:

Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven. Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Matt. 6:1–4)

Unlike other religions, where good works are central to success, Christianity proclaims the glory of Jesus Christ and his work, and the good works of his followers become the beautiful dust stirred up in our following him wherever he goes. Christians are not earning their salvation with their good deeds; they are working it out (Phil. 2:12).

Since Christians believe that the work of salvation is already accomplished by Jesus, and there is nothing left for them to do to contribute to this work, they are now free to unselfconsciously love and serve others without worrying about recognition or reward. They will be vindicated in heaven, even if they are violated here.

Christians are called to good works. This is how people know we are Christians. But they also know we are Christians—and not charitable Buddhists—because we don’t make good works our boast.

(This is an excerpt from Unparalleled: How Christianity’s Uniqueness Makes it Compelling)

Older, Restful, and Reforming

I never set out to “join a movement.” I hadn’t even set out to jump on on a new church strategy bandwagon. I was simply in recovery mode and discovered a larger context that helped make sense of my growing unease with church as it was.

Let me back up.

I learned from Tim Challies that today marks the 10-year anniversary of Collin Hansen‘s landmark Christianity Today article “Young, Restless, Reformed”, which later became a book with the same title. The article featured some now better-known figures in the YRR (or gospel-centered, neo-Reformed, neo-Calvinist, whatchamacalit) camp like John Piper, Josh Harris, Mark Driscoll, et.al. I remember where I was when I first read the article.

Wait- let me back up again.

About twelve years ago I was suffering from the ruins of a life built on private sin and outer falseness. Everything was broken. (I tell most of this story in the last chapter of my book The Prodigal Church.) I was depressed; I was suicidal. I was begging God for some kind of help, any help. And one night the Holy Spirit intervened in a special way, a unique way. I had an experience I have since referred to as gospel wakefulness. I did not get a vision for a new church methodology at a conference; I did not become awakened to Reformed theology. I had come to see God’s grace like oxygen and suddenly realized I’d been suffocating in my current life (and church).

It was this experience that began to create a strong dissonance in my church fellowship. As my wife and I both became more sensitive to the good news of Jesus Christ in our lives, the absence of this good news from our church life became more and more pronounced. We felt like aliens. Everything was so upbeat and peppy — the music was “rockin’,” the creativity was turned to 11, and the messages were inspirational — but we were starving. I had tasted and seen the glory of God in the gospel and was heartbroken to feel like my community was having this withheld from them on a regular basis.

I was still in that church and leading a young adult Bible study one evening at a friend’s home when I looked down at the coffee table to see that issue of CT. The cover had a picture of a guy wearing a Jonathan Edwards T-shirt, which I thought was weird, but the cover story title caught my attention: “Young, Restless, and Reformed: Calvinism is making a comeback and shaking up the church.” As I started reading the article, I suddenly felt like my world was opening up. I had been a Calvinist for a while — “converted” in college, actually — so it wasn’t that part that really intrigued me. And a few of the leaders discussed were familiar to me. In fact, the preaching of John Piper and Mark Driscoll had been especially helpful to me during my depression. It wasn’t a new theology or new people to learn from that Collin’s article gave me — it was a feeling of not being alone.

I was in a huge church but felt utterly alone. Nobody saw what I was seeing. Nobody listened to what I was hearing. It was a strange feeling. And while the YRR piece named the tribe, so to speak, for me, it was about not feeling like what I had experienced was isolated. As I said, I hadn’t been looking to join a movement. If anything, I was grateful to discover I might have been a part of one without knowing it! The CT article was a doorway into sensing that the gospel renaissance that God worked in my life and was working in my ministry was actually something he was doing on a larger scale.

And he continues to do it. I confess there have been times where I’ve been exceedingly frustrated with my tribe. I still think we struggle too much with fear of man, especially as it pertains to “celebrity worship,” but I actually think we’re doing better. It’s one of the severe mercies, I suppose, of some rather notable “falls.” I think we’re getting a little grayer. I think we listen better now. I think we have benefited from international expansion and contribution, ethnic minority leaders, and the test-driving of our theology and praxis in local churches and communities, church plants, and in the open marketplace of ideas of the blogosphere and social media.

I also think, ten years later, the younger members of our tribe seem less restless than we did when we started. For all the flack the millennials take in the wider culture, the millennials I meet in the gospel-centered tribe seem more mature, more settled. They love the gospel and the local church and seem less enamored with big names and big ideas than my generation (X) was, as we were still not fully weaned off what the Boomers fed us.

The gospel-centered seminaries are on the increase. The gospel-centered churches continue to multiply. The gospel-centered tribe continues to feast on the gospel, and it can’t help but have grown us up a bit, settled us down a bit, reformed our hearts and minds a bit.

There will always be room to grow. And perhaps, 10 years later, we still don’t know if this is just a fad. I suspect not, but of course, “but by the grace of God” and all that. But we have seen the emerging church emerge into thin air. Their writers and “thought leaders” have joined Glengarry Glen Ross, disappeared into obscurity, or are off surfing with Oprah or whatever. The mainline’s decline continues more swiftly than most. And while professing Christianity in the west is on the decline across the board, a movement built around the gospel still seems wise. And still feels like home.

Semper Reformanda, friends.

And Collin: thank you.

Related:

Young(ish), Settled, and Reformed

Where I’ll Be 2016-17

For those who care about such things, I thought I’d share some of my upcoming speaking dates. If you’re in any of these areas and able to attend, would be great to meet you.

September 26-27, 2016 – For The Church Conference. Kansas City, MO. At the third annual FTC conference — themed Portraits of a Pastor — I am tasked with presenting on “The Pastor as Shepherd.”

October 3-5, 2016 – Spurgeon Fellowship. Western Seminary, Portland, OR. I will be speaking 4 times at this event on the topic of pastoral ministry and the gospel.

November 3-5, 2016 – Doxology & Theology Conference. Louisville, KY. Hosted at Southern Seminary. This year’s D&T Conference is held in honor of the upcoming 500th anniversary of the Reformation, and I will be preaching a plenary session on “Faith Alone” and leading a breakout on gospel-centered worship.

November 14-15, 2016 – Acts29 Europe Pastors Conference. Belfast, Ireland. Details still TBA.

January 27-28, 2017 – Ready Conference. Kansas City, MO. I’ll be speaking at this student conference hosted at Midwestern Seminary along with Trip Lee, Owen Strachan, and John Mark Yeats.

My full speaking calendar is available here. And if you’re interested in having me speak or preach at your church or event, inquiries may be sent via here.

The Gospel Past and The Gospel Future Make Your Gospel Present

The oracle of the word of the LORD to Israel by Malachi:

“I have loved you,” says the LORD.

But you say, “How have you loved us?”

“Is not Esau Jacob’s brother?” declares the LORD. “Yet I have loved Jacob but Esau I have hated. I have laid waste his hill country and left his heritage to jackals of the desert.” If Edom says, “We are shattered but we will rebuild the ruins,” the LORD of hosts says, “They may build, but I will tear down, and they will be called ‘the wicked country,’ and ‘the people with whom the LORD is angry forever.'” Your own eyes shall see this, and you shall say, “Great is the LORD beyond the border of Israel!” (Malachi 1:1-5)

There is past tense and then future tense. There is “I have loved you” and there is “Your own eyes shall see . . .”

God through Malachi is addressing a half-hearted, spiritually corrupt covenant community. They have predicated their polluted religion on all that God is not presently doing. They are struggling financially and politically. They are muddling through while their enemies seem to prosper.

And God doesn’t say, “Hey, look around. Everything’s great!” No, he knows that “looking around” is exactly their problem. He beckons them to look back and then to look forward.

This is a great reminder to us about how the gospel empowers us for daily living, even when we are in a bind or a grind. When our world appears to be falling apart, when we can’t see our way out of the predicament or the grief we are in, the gospel bids us look back to what God has done in Christ on the cross and out of the tomb for his own glory and for us. “I have loved you” this says to troubled souls. And then he bids us in the gospel to look forward to the blessed hope of Christ’s glorious return, our gathering together to him, our resurrection, our placement in an eternal wonderland where there are no more problems.

This is the already and the not yet of the gospel. This is the fantastic remembrance of what God has really done in history to save us and the fantastic anticipation of what God will really do in history to save us.

Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received [past tense], in which you stand [present tense], and by which you are being saved [present-future tense], if you hold fast to the word I preached to you— unless you believed in vain.

— 1 Corinthians 15:1-2

8 Hallmarks of Attractional and Gospel-Centered Churches

Went on a bit of a Twitter run yesterday with some thoughts on the essential defining characteristics of the church model I call attractional, followed by some constructive alternative hallmarks of gospel-centered churches. Hopefully they will bring more clarity to thinking through the relevant issues in evangelical ecclesiology. These are important times to get this sorted.

Unfortunate hallmarks of the attractional church:

1) Sermons driven by what Christian Smith calls “moralistic therapeutic deism”

2) Functional ideology of pragmatism. (Not “what’s biblical?” but “what works?”)

3) Truncating of the gospel or relegation of the gospel to background/afterthought

4) Equation of bigness with success, contrary to numerous biblical examples otherwise

5) Treating membership solely or mainly as a means of assimilating volunteers

6) Wide open back door for those needing to be discipled beyond conversion

7) Reduction of the Bible to a source for good quotes

8) Claiming relevance/innovation while insulating from critical challenges to assumptions.

Hallmarks of gospel-centered churches:

1) Trust not just in authority of Scripture but sufficiency of Scripture

2) Sermons that emphasize “It is finished!” over “Get to work!”. Jesus is the star, not a bit player

3) Meaningful membership encompassing whole-life discipleship, pastoral care, and church discipline

4) Emphasis on members as missionaries & emphasizing “go and tell” over “come and see”

5) A total trust in the gospel to be the power of transformation that no amount of inspiration can be

6) Regular commitment to the Lord’s Supper

7) Reliance on robustness of the gospel to apply to the believer, justification & sanctification

8) Church as community of saints, not merely a worship service or resource center for programs

(I’ve expanded on all this stuff and a lot more — and offer some constructive correctives — in The Prodigal Church)

S.E.T.I., Glory, and The Signal from Deep Space

On August 15, 1977, a man named Jerry Ehman came across a radio signal from deep space that confounds scientists to this day. Ehman, a volunteer for SETI — an organization dedicated to the search for extraterrestrial intelligence — was monitoring the Big Ear radio telescope at Ohio State University. Looking over the printouts of what that Big Ear had been hearing, Ehman could see all the typical background noise of outer space: the standard movements of satellites, the signals emanating from earth refracted off of space debris, and the like. But then something stood out. There was an anomaly. A big one.

6EQUJ5. That was the sequence on the printout indicating a strong, unique signal from outer space. It did not match the background noise. In fact, it looked much like you’d expect a radio signal from an intelligent source to look. It came from the region in the sky where the constellation Sagittarius is found, and its frequency appeared to match the “hydrogen line,” a promising trait for SETI researchers who figured intelligent beings might use the most common element in the universe to broadcast a signal.

Blown away by what he’d discovered, Ehman took a red pen and circled the 6EQUJ5 sequence on the printout, writing “Wow!” off to the side.

Scientists have never found the source of the Wow! signal. They have never heard it again, despite consistently listening in over the years to the same region of space with radio telescopes much more powerful than the Big Ear. They have so far heard nothing like it. And yet the Wow! signal continues to captivate, stirring curiosity and fueling hope that somewhere out there someone is listening to us, that someone is sending out a signal.

Why does the search for extraterrestrial life entertain us so much? Since the earliest days of UFO sightings and the burgeoning genre of science fiction in the likes of Jules Verne and H. G. Wells, what itch does yearning for outer space scratch?

One of my favorite movies is Stephen Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Though overshadowed by Spielberg’s other sci-fi masterwork —- a little movie called E.T. the Extraterrestrial — Close Encounters follows similar themes but on a much larger scale. In E.T., Spielberg uses the science fiction conceit really to speak to the ideas of fatherlessness and family. In Close Encounters, he speaks to man’s universal search for meaning.

As the aliens get closer to revealing themselves to mankind’s official spokespeople in a stunning climatic scene at Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, key characters inexplicably find themselves making replicas of the tower or seeing visions of it. Richard Dreyfuss starts with his mashed potatoes at dinner. Eventually he’s pulling up the landscaping to make a minitower in his living room. A little boy shares these compulsions. A scattered group is drawn together by their inner yearning for this extraterrestrial contact. It seems to speak to something missing in their lives, to promise an answer to everything that is unsettled in them.

When the aliens do finally arrive, for these aching souls it is like heaven has finally come to earth. Dreyfuss’s character goes with them in their spaceship to lands unknown.

Of course, for many, many people, interest in science fiction and little green men and rockets to the moon aren’t a reality at all. But I still think the inner human ache for the search for life in outer space is universal. We may seek to satisfy it in different ways, but we’re all really trying to solve two fundamental human problems: loneliness and insignificance.

Deep down, though many do not realize it or admit it, human beings carry a deep-seated need to know and to be known, a need to feel worthy, to be part of something bigger, as if all that is around us is more than it seems. This is a collectively human problem, not just an individual one. We feel lonely as a species, not just as people, otherwise the community offerings all around us would do the trick. And being in community with people is extremely helpful and necessary. But our hearts still yearn for more. This is why we find it so hard sometimes to live with each other.

Humanity also faces the problem of insignificance. Consider how each generation, at least in the United States, identifies so strongly with cultural milestones like WWII or Woodstock. It isn’t simply that we want to be thought great as individuals—though we do—but that we also want to be known as a great people. Tom Brokaw even wrote a book called The Greatest Generation. We identify strongly with our generations, our colleges, our states, and of course our nations. But these collective identities don’t ultimately satisfy either. So what is the last frontier for man to be seen as great, to feel a part of something grand, universal, and important—not just in the world but the universe? Well, outer space, of course.

Volunteers around the world today have set up their computers to take part in a vast SETI network, harnessing their collective strength to provide a great big listening grid aimed at the heavens. Every day these noble souls diligently scan computer screens and paper printouts looking for that next Wow! But what is it, really, that they are looking for?

I think we are all really looking for connection and significance, and we’re all looking for them in ways we can’t quite get a grasp on with the ordinary stuff of earth.

But the good news is that the answer really is out there.

God’s plan to bring lasting, satisfying connection and significance to mankind, to cure the angst for more that we all feel deep inside, to make us feel less like aliens and less like searching for them — is found in this thing the Bible calls grace. Grace is God’s modus operandi in the world. Not everybody gets all the grace God has to give, but everybody who wants it does, and everybody else gets some grace just for being a human creature trying to get by in the world. (Christian theologians call this “common grace.”)

Living our lives driven by appetites, seeking to gain as much pleasure or comfort or power as we can, does not solve the deep need for significance. It might medicate us against it for a while, but it just doesn’t last. Alternatively, living on the religious duty treadmill, trying to earn credit with God through personal righteousness, basically just trying to be “good people,” doesn’t solve our deep need for connection.

But the signal is coming from deep space. It transmits on lots of frequencies, some stronger than others. God is doing something with us. He is meaning something with creation. The message of grace — unmerited favor — hits the universal need with a specific message. And it bids us turn our gaze to the heavens to see God’s impressive strategy for the whole world.

The problem of loneliness and insignificance is actually a lack of glory. The glory of God solves those problems (and a million others besides). It actually cracks the code of human existence and the future of creation. See, God has not been silent. He has declared these realities. He actually tells us what he’s going to do with everything! Like a Wow! signal straight from heaven, Habakkuk 2:14 announces, “For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”

This is God’s endgame for everything. Glory. He wants his glory to fill the earth, to drench it, really, making all the dry places alive again and all the dull places shine again.

This is the secret of the universe. The “thing” that makes sense of everything is the glory of God brought to bear by the grace of God. And God’s modus operandi, his plan to reveal this secret, is the proclamation of the message the Bible calls “the gospel,” the good news that the glorious God has sent the radiance of his glory to restore men who have sinned and fallen short of his glory (Rom. 3:23). As Martin Luther says, “For what is the Gospel but a declaring of the glory of God and his works?”

The gospel is the Wow! signal from deep space that changes everything.

(This is an edited excerpt from The Story of Everything: How You, Your Pets, and The Swiss Alps Fit Into God’s Plan for the World)

Top 10 Things I Love That Worship Leaders Do

I wasn’t surprised by the big reaction to my recent post “Top 10 Things I Wish Worship Leaders Would Stop Saying” because I know that the subject is a particular hot button for evangelicals. And while I think too often we inappropriately insulate our preferences/traditions from criticism, I am of course sensitive to the request for a more positive, proactive help. I’ve actually written quite a bit on worship, both online and in print—The Prodigal Church and my Gospel Coalition church resource Gospel Shaped Worship are the most notable examples—but new readers triggered by yesterday’s blog post are not likely to be familiar with that work. I was already planning on writing the list below but decided to hasten its appearing. Here’s to hoping this list reaches the same audience as the last.

I love it when worship leaders . . .

10. Lead more than perform.

I am grateful for talented vocalists and musicians serving as worship leaders, but I’m especially grateful when our leaders don’t treat their position as a showcase for their gifts but as an opportunity to shepherd the flock. I love it when worship leaders choose songs that lend themselves more to congregational singing than band performance and lead in such a way that it’s easier to follow along—appropriate keys and pacing, not over-improvising, following the printed or projected lyrics, and so on. And speaking of shepherding, I love it when you . . .

9. Approach the worship gathering with a pastoral sensibility.

The worship gathering shouldn’t be some bland, un-creative exercise in avoiding anything remotely artistic, but I’m grateful for worship leaders who think primarily about what the flock needs more than what the flock wants—because they are not always the same thing—and seeks to steward the music time and other worship order elements with Christ’s glory at heart and Christ’s church in mind. (And pastors, this is why often the most gifted singers/musicians in your church are not the best candidates for worship leaders.)

8. Let theology drive their decision making.

Too many worship services are driven by a consumeristic or pragmatic ethos. Too many worship leaders (and their pastors and creative teams) over-busy themselves asking, “What else can we do?” as if the worship gathering is a blank artistic slate for creative expression. But as Jeff Goldblum says in Jurassic Park, “You were so busy asking if you could do something, you never bothered to ask if you should.” This is why I’m grateful for worship leaders who know how to evaluate songs for theological soundness, biblical coherence, and doctrinal clarity. And I like it when this commitment to theology is reflected in a fearlessness about old songs and a discriminating taste about new songs. But I also love it when you . . .

7. Think about the service beyond the songs.

And I don’t mean simply videos or whatever. I am grateful for worship leaders who think about the worship order as a whole, who think about the story a worship order tells. Every church has a liturgy, even if they don’t like that word or they’ve never even heard of that word! Your worship elements and their order communicate something about God about his Word and about your church. I love it when it’s clear the worship team hasn’t just busied themselves picking good songs but has also thought about the progression of song content in relation to the different elements of the service (confession, prayers, communion, sermon, and so on) and how all the pieces together point to God in Christ as our hope.

6. Aren’t afraid of silence.

Not every space has to be thick with sound and visuals. I know silence between songs can sound like awkward transitions, but not every square inch of the worship service has to be “produced.” Is that fuzzy synthesizer ambiance in between songs and during prayers there to create a mood? Why? What for? I love it when worship leaders “embrace the real.” One thing my church’s worship leader does—after the sermon has been preached and before he leads us in the closing song—is give us a time to silently reflect on the message. It’s not a long time, but it’s long enough to start to feel awkward to those who are new to the practice. But there’s no ambient music. No vocal prayer. Just silence. You can hear those scattered coughs. Kids whispering. A Bible hitting the floor. The rustling of paper. But mostly just stillness and quiet. In our daily lives we are awash with noise. We are hurry-sick. Even when we’re alone, we’re taking in the “noise” of the internet or something else. I think it’s wonderful to take this into account in our worship services, not feel inclined to mirror the constant noise of the world, and give us some time to hush. It’s good for our souls.

5. Pray for real.

I love it when worship leaders are God-conscious and their prayers sound like they’re actually talking to their Father. Sometimes it is easy for worship leaders to lapse into “stage prayers,” where the prayer is simply filler, a way to introduce the next song, or full of verbal tics that don’t make it sound like the leader is well-versed in prayer outside the worship service (“FatherGod we just love you FatherGod and we just FatherGod just want to just…”). When you “pray naked,” even in your skinny jeans, I am inspired and encouraged to bring my true self before God. I am led to cry out to God myself when it sounds like my worship leader is crying out to God.

4. Prioritize the Word.

Feelings are great. It is unChristian to deny the importance of feelings. But it is unChristian to prioritize (idolize) our feelings. Our life is not to be dictated by our feelings—even spiritual feelings—but by the inspired, infallible Word of God. So I love it when worship leaders choose songs that reflect biblical truths, echo the full-hearted human experience of the Psalms and other biblical texts, and read or recite Scripture in their introductions and transitions. I love it when worship leaders being the gathering not with a rockin’ song to loosen (or wake) everybody up, but with a Scriptural call to worship. This is a reminder that our worship gathering is a response to God’s active work in the world and his specific summoning of us through the gospel of Christ. I also love it when worship leaders remind me that the worship time doesn’t end when the songs do, and that the preaching of the word is both the continuation of—and the apex of—the worship gathering.

3. Lead with serious joy.

I always feel like I’m on a cruise ship or at a cocktail lounge—not that I frequent either one of those places!—when the worship leader is up there constantly cracking jokes and treating his banter like practice for his improv class. You don’t need to treat the service like a funeral, of course, and about the only thing as annoying as a constantly silly worship leader is a constantly humorless one—but I love it when worship leaders capture both the gladness and the gravity of responding to the Lord’s call to worship. So instead of taking on the personas of gameshow host on one hand or “I’d rather be alone in my room with my principles” artiste on the other, I love it when you are both happy in and humbled by the holiness of God.

2. Don’t try to out-preach the preacher.

Okay, this is just a minor point, but I’ve heard this additional critique from enough folks in response to the previous post to know that it’s not just my own “pet peeve.” I love it when worship leaders shepherd the congregation well by introducing songs by giving theological context, praying in transitions, reciting Scripture, and of course using non-singing time for equipping the congregation. But sometimes you guys just talk too much! This is especially notable after a sermon, when a worship leader will sometimes try to re-preach a particular point. The subtext sometimes appears to be “Let me take a crack at this, because the preacher whiffed it.” Worship leader, I love it when you leave the sermon to the preacher (and when the preacher leaves to the songs to you).

1. Point me to the gospel.

This is why I’m there, whether I remember it or not. This is what I need. I need the announcement of the historical work of Christ on the cross and out of the tomb more than I need oxygen! So I’m very, very grateful when your song choice, banter, worship order, and everything else makes it clear that the grace of God given to sinners through Jesus is your reason for being. I love it when you take care not to distract from the gospel, whether by content or creativity. I love it when you take care that your artistic efforts adorn the gospel and don’t obscure it. And I love it when you rehearse the gospel with us. It is the greatest gift you have, and it’s the greatest gift you can share.

For all those who labor faithfully in these things—including many, many friends of mine who serve their churches so well this way, some perhaps in the face of weekly criticism and complaints—I am eternally thankful for you. I love you.

Top 10 Things I Wish Worship Leaders Would Stop Saying

In which a crusty old curmudgeon rants a little about annoying songleader banter. Don’t take this too seriously, except maybe do.

10. Are we ready to have fun this morning?

The answer is, “Probably not.” The truth is, when this is your welcome at the start of the music time, it tells me where your head’s at. Nobody goes to church to have a bad time, of course, and I’m sure plenty of people go to “have fun,” but is this the point of worship? Is “having fun” where you want hearts directed as you lead people to exalt God? No, it’s where you want hearts directed when you’re just trying to “crush your set” or “rock it out for Jesus” [see #5]. “Are we ready to have fun?” is just slightly worse than this next common opener:

9. How’s everybody feeling?

If I wanted to stretch to justify this statement, I could say that what you’re asking the congregation to do is self-reflect on their spiritual condition and present their real, whole selves honestly and submissively to the glory of Christ as you lead them in adoration of him. But my guess is that 9.9 times out of 10 what you’re really trying to do is get people to say, “Woooooooo!”

8. You can do better than that!

Or some other form of nagging about how we’re not singing or participating to your liking. It’s never really on my mind at a church service to think of ways to impress the worship leader. Similarly shaming is:

7. I can’t hear you!

Well, maybe turn the volume down. We can’t hear us either.

6. [Introducing a hymn] Here’s an oldie we dusted off.

Please don’t apologize for leading us in the rare song that is theologically rich and doctrinally solid. Apologize for not leading us in them more often!

5. “Rockin’ worship.”

Please stop. I know you’ve got a good drummer and amps that go to 11, but referring to church music as “rockin'”—or using the phrase “rockin’ it out”—is somewhere in the category of fanny packs and duck-face selfies.

4. Lord, we invite you to be here.

This is the worship leader’s equivalent of “asking Jesus into your heart.” I think I know what the phrase means, but it reveals something about our thinking related to worship. For instance, is it true that God is summoned by our worship? Or is it actually the other way around? He calls us—we then respond in worship. God isn’t a genie and worship isn’t like rubbing a golden lamp. Nor is he a cosmic butler to be summoned. Don’t invite the Lord into a space like he doesn’t already own it and isn’t already there.

3. God showed up.

Again, I think I know what is meant by this phrase. It can be a way of saying “we felt emotionally touched during the music time,” which can be an okay thing—it would be weird for Christians to never feel engaged emotionally in worshiping God—but it can also be a way of equating emotional reactions with God’s presence in an unhelpful way, in a way that inadvertently communicates to people that when they don’t feel good, God must be absent.

2. Let’s give God a hand.

Translation: I would like to hear some applause.

1. Turn to your neighbor and _____________.

There’s really nothing wrong with this approach, but as a socially awkward introvert, this kind of instruction is a huge heaping bowl of panic attack soup.

5 Words of Advice for Young Seminarians

Today at Midwestern Seminary we are hosting our New Student Orientation. After the typical lull of summer, it’s great to see the campus bustling again with students new and returning. For those starting college or seminary education, I know it can sometimes be intimidating or overwhelming. And for those who don’t feel a little intimidated or overwhelmed, you may need to prepare yourselves, lest you get caught off-guard by the challenges of your studies and the seminary culture. Maybe the following few words can serve in this regard. Respectfully submitted:

1. Attend and serve in a local church.

Seminary is not a sabbatical from discipleship. If you’re attending school away from home, the temptation can be great to go on ecclesiological autopilot, and the sad fact is that many Bible college students and seminarians do. So while they spend most of their days for 2-4 years thinking about theology, worship, discipleship, and church ministry, they do so totally disconnected from the only God-designed context for these things. Don’t let your studies be purely theoretical. Biblical studies are bogus without the spiritual formation they are meant to foment.

Join a church and get involved. Serve in the kids or youth ministry or on the tech team or as an usher or greeter or parking lot attendant. Get your armpits sweaty with regular ol’ church work. It’s good for your heart and can help you stay grounded as your studies alone might keep you wrapped up in your own thoughts. Being involved in church community also helps you learn to love people, which, oddly enough, some seminarians need help with. Remember, the Lord has not called us to build empires, plant cool organizations, or strategize missionally apart from a faithful love and care for the sheep. The church is people, not a Big Idea. If feeding sheep is not your primary motivation, your seminary education will be worthless.

2. Spend 10x as much time listening as speaking.

You’re learning a lot. You’ve got a lot of ideas and strategies. Your theology is getting deeper and stronger. And of course you know exactly how to fix the church’s problems. The only problem is you really have no idea what you’re talking about. There will be plenty of time later to fix everybody. Right now, while you’re young and inexperienced, it’s not time to hand out pastoral advice, write gigantic thinkpieces on The State of the American Church, or argue with every Tom, Dick, and Harry about every strand of theological minutiae you can think of. Just sit there, and open your ears. Don’t stop talking. But don’t talk more than you listen. You don’t have all the answers. You aren’t here to “fix” your church, your pastor, your professors, or anybody or anything else.

3. Chase the right things.

Holy ambition is a good thing. It is sometimes great for young Christians to have “stars in their eyes” as it pertains to following Jesus on mission. But too many young seminarians are thinking more about platforms, fame, notoriety, followers, book deals, speaking gigs, etc than they ought to. Chances are, you shouldn’t be thinking about these things at all, except to help steer clear of idolatry. “How can seminary help me advance my career?” is not the first question you should be asking. Instead, ask “How can seminary help me be a faithful citizen of God’s kingdom?” How can your studies help you embody John 3:30? How can this special time in your life help you lean into the Lord and pursue personal holiness? Keep your eyes on the right prize. If you will be faithful in little, the Lord may then trust you with much. On that note:

4. Do not despise the day of small things.

The spirit of Zechariah 4:10 will haunt you day by day. Seminary will get old. You will just want to move on, already. You want that ministry position. You want to be selected for that group or team. You are ready to get beyond reading the books you reckon beneath yourself or behind your advanced learning. You want to bite off more than you can chew. One thing you will learn when you serve in a ministry role over time is that a lot of the things you do are things you have to do but don’t want to do. Ministry is unfortunately very often driven by the tyranny of the urgent. There are emails to answer, voicemails to return, forms to complete, calendars to organize. In my last pastorate, I had had ten books published and a speaking engagement every month, and I still had to photocopy my own handouts, set up tables for deacons’ meetings, and pick up stray bulletins in the sanctuary after services. How does this translate to your seminarian life? How about making sure you turn assignments in on time, keep your room or apartment clean, show up to your appointments, let your “yes be yes” and your “no be no,” and not think yourself as generally above the routine tasks and duties of ordinary life?

5. Pray.

The strong seminarian is the one who acknowledges his weakness. If you try to do theological education in your own strength, you fail, no matter how good your grades are. It is more likely, however, that this experience will expose your weaknesses, reveal your idols, exacerbate your insecurities, test your patience, challenge your intellectual and emotional capabilities, and push you way beyond your comfort zone. What a wonderful opportunity, then, to take every little thing to the Lord in prayer! What a great opportunity to embrace the sanctifying presence of the Holy Spirit, upon whom you are always relying anyway. Don’t shrink back from the challenge of your studies or the difficulty of distance from home and family. Press in with the Lord’s help by praying without ceasing.

The Kingdom Comes Not Through Maneuvers But By Repentance

Being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he answered them, “The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”

— Luke 17:20-21

In Jesus’ day, the Jewish world was fractured into factions, each of which sought to usher in or live out the kingdom of God in its own way. The promised land was owned and ruled by Rome, and everybody had a take on how God might overthrow the oppressive occupation and establish the kingdom of heaven.

The Sadducees sold out theologically and collaborated with the pagan rulers for political and financial benefit. The Pharisees sought to live peaceably within the cities, in Rome but not of Rome as it were, obeying the laws of the land but seeking as diligently and rigorously as possible to apply the Mosaic law to every minute detail of life in the hopes their works might merit them deliverance. The Essenes hightailed it out to the wilderness, became hermits, embraced gnosticism, withdrew and battened down the hatches. The Zealots kept taking up arms, wanting to usher in the kingdom of God through the power of the sword.

When Jesus’ cousin grew up into this tumultuous landscape and answered YHWH’s call upon his life, he went out to the Jordan River, the historic borderline of deliverance for Israel, the line Joshua had led them across from desert wandering into the Promised Land. And when he got to the Jordan, John didn’t begin conspiring. He didn’t amass arms, begin a grassroots political campaign, urge rigorous law-keeping, or preach any of the other myriad ways his countrymen were seeking to establish the kingdom. He simply said the kingdom was at hand and if anybody wanted in he would be more than happy to dunk them in the river.

“Repent!” he called. And “Repent!” his cousin, our Lord Jesus, called after taking the reigns of John’s burgeoning kingdom community.

The way into the kingdom life is the same way out of worldly life—death. As baptism illustrates, the way into the kingdom is the way of death, burial, and resurrection.

Go to a new place, this action commands us. Leave the old one. Abandon it and its ways, its self-idolatry in the guise of spirituality.

Today’s Essenes are the gnosis-exalting hip churches and the law-exalting fundy churches, each preaching legalism of a different sort and rendering different sorts of people untouchable. They advocate withdrawal from either “church people” or “the world,” as if true kingdom enlightenment exists in an ecclesiological utopia hermetically sealed off and protected by either their cultural savvy or their cultural avoidance.

Today’s Pharisees are people like me, desperately trying to please God through our stuff, our merit, our actions, sincerely wanting to apply God’s Word to our life but always slipping down the slope of applying our life to God’s work. We trust our behavior, our church programs, our well-turned phrases. Today’s Pharisees are the promoters of the entertainment-driven, self-help preaching, program-trusting whitewashed tombs we arrogantly call churches.

Today’s Sadducees are the politicians who use churches, Christians, and the language of Scripture to achieve power. And they are the ones who help them, believing if the right man were in the right role, God would “heal our land.” They believe the kingdom of God can be spread through politics, networking, the right policies, the right strategies, the right legislation. They are the churches who sell out to celebrities and powerful personalities.

Today’s Zealots are anybody and everybody who thinks the kingdom comes with signs to be observed: elections, placards, T-shirts, debates, attendance, programs. Or worse: bombings, shootings.

All of it, idolatry. All of us, idolaters.

And Jesus says to us every day, all day, as he said all day every day then, “Repent!”

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”

— Matthew 16:24