Michelle Van Loon's Blog, page 5

The Church should ________

The Church should ________

– Assist the poor. It’s should be our job, not that of the government.

– Take care of victims of abuse. We can do better than a secular social service agency will.

– Fight the darkness and anti-Christian orientation of our culture. We need to return to our Judeo-Christian roots.

– Stand for the unborn. Abortion is wrong, and we must contend for life.

I hear Christians who identify as social and economic conservatives making these kinds of statements in response to what they view as over-reach by government. With the passage this week of the “no exceptions even for rape or incest” anti-abortion law in Alabama (and similar laws being moved through legislatures in Ohio and Georgia, as well as recent laws on the other end of the spectrum in New York and Virginia) a woman named @TuttleSinger posed this question on Twitter: “Dear Pro-life friends: What have you *personally* done to support lower income single mothers? I’ll wait:” To date, there have been over 11,000 responses to her query. A quick skim of the thread reveals everything from paying for car repairs to helping to raise a single mom’s child to paying for lunch tabs at under-resourced city schools with high percentages of students being raised by single parents.

While these heartwarming personal responses give lie to to the pro-choice talking point that pro-lifers only care about babies while they’re in utero, the discussion points to a larger, on-going debate about what role and responsibility the Church has in public life. I appreciated Kelly Rosati’s thoughtful response at CT in the wake of the Alabama law, but I had a moment of pause when I read these words:

The changes necessary must be systemic. We need to re-think the way we “do” ministry as churches. We need to be willing to embrace young moms, invite them in, and then be prepared to walk with them every step of the way. Any parent will tell you that raising a child over a period of 18 years is daunting. But what if you’re facing that prospect as a young girl who hasn’t even graduated from high school yet? It’s not surprising why so many young women choose abortion. It’s not surprising that they feel like they have no other options.

To respond to Rosati’s charge to re-think the way we do ministry will mean doing far more than adding a program or a line item in the congregational budget. It will mean dismantling some of our comfy structures, and do we really want to do that? it’s been 46 years since Roe v. Wade legalized abortion in all 50 states. We’ve had an entire generation to figure out how to minister to single moms, dads, and their children. The last 46 years are a pretty accurate self-report about how much we in the Church can…and can’t…do.

Yet as many of those responses to @TuttleSinger show, many people and some congregations do step up in love and without fanfare. Other congregations engage in grand acts of generosity like this one that can alleviate social and economic suffering for an entire community. There is much to celebrate in each act of generosity and care, large or small.

But to be honest, these good works sometimes feel like drops in a sieve-like bucket. Systemic, generational, and cultural issues are far bigger than any individual, congregation, or denomination can realistically address. Many of us feel powerless in the face of these forces. As a result, there are times when  the words “the Church should ____” are used to signal distrust of the government while casting aspersions on fellow believers – other people! – who just aren’t doing enough to fix things. This kind of hand-wringing faux idealism becomes a substitute for meaningful  engagement on both the structural and personal level.

I had a friend who was an external processor when it came to ideas for activities: “We should go try that new restaurant,” she’d say. “We should go to the beach. We should watch this movie. We should take a road trip.” For a long time, I mistook her “shoulds” as commitments to get dates on the calendar. Eventually I learned that most of those “shoulds” were nothing more than chatter. While I understood the word “should” meant a call to concrete action, she used it as a way to denote a brainstormed idea. I learned my friend felt like something great was going on just because she mentioned it. Her good intentions registered in her mind as if the fun activities she was always “shoulding” were already happening.

I’ve probably said “The Church should _____” in a few heated conversations I’ve had around social issues over the years. I recognize now they are hollow words that give the illusion of action, but are nothing more than virtue-signaling, and I repent of them. This kind of “should” is a warped perfectionism that hampers us from seeing clearly what is. If we did, our church structures and our individual lives might look a little different than they do right now.

The government can’t change the human heart. And neither will “should”.

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do,

what God is looking for in men and women.

It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor,

be compassionate and loyal in your love,

And don’t take yourself too seriously—

take God seriously. (Micah 6:8 MSG) 

 

Cover photo by Liane Metzler on Unsplash

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sitting Shiva with Jesus

I’ve always liked the Jewish practice of sitting shiva (shih-vuh) for a week after a funeral instead of cramming all of the goodbyes into a wake and memorial service or funeral. Shiva.com has a good working definition: 

Shiva begins immediately following the burial and lasts for seven days, ending after the morning service on the seventh day. Shiva is not observed on the Sabbath (Friday at sundown through Saturday at sundown) or on holidays. While shiva is the seven-day period following burial – and many mourners do choose to observe shiva for the full seven days – it is common to find that some families may only sit shiva for one-to-three days, depending on many factors, including the family’s level of observance or the deceased’s instructions or wishes.

I am not an expert on the practice, but having gone through truncated and not especially religious versions of shiva after the deaths of both of my parents, I can tell you that the extended time at home given to formal mourning allows the family to connect one-on-one with those coming to express their condolences. People stop by throughout the shiva period, often bringing food (so much food), and there’s a little more time to visit with each of those who come to offer words of comfort than I’ve ever seen at a wake or memorial service. It can be exhausting for mourners to have an open house for a week, but the mourner isn’t supposed to lift a finger. They are to receive, to grieve, and to be held by the prayers and care of others. 

I thought about the ritual of shiva as I reflected on Chuck DeGroat’s excellent piece entitled Trust the Process: Stewarding the Death of the American Church. DeGroat is a professor at Western Seminary, and writes (and tweets) about abuse and church trauma. His words crystallized further what we’re all witnessing, not only in Evangelicalism but in every branch of the American church right now. DeGroat said: 

In times like this, anxiety reigns. Our instinct to protect and preserve kicks in. Reactive inclinations like scapegoating and polarizing trump unhurried, reflective processes and careful thinking. In our social media age, we take to tactics that resemble mine from a long time ago (and today sometimes!) – efforts to correct and fix and convince – but in a depersonalized, sound-byte fashion.

Our anxiety is mitigated by the cheap drug of certainty. Our strategies become hostile, invasive, and (if you think you’re right, no matter your “side”) justified assholery (you won’t find the word in a theological dictionary, so don’t bother looking.) It seems that if you think you’re right, being a bully is permissible.

I don’t know exactly how this dying will play out. I’m anxious about it. It impacts my longtime call, my livelihood, even my daily mood. I’m trying to resist the urge to fix it or to propose some “this is how we’ll save the church” recipe. I’m learning to attend what I can control in my little sphere and surrender the rest.

We are witnessing the death of a lot of familiar but incredibly unhealthy inclinations in the Church. None of it – the abuse, the denials, the hubris, the edifices to our own vanity, and the cutting-and-pasting of Bible verses to suit our own agendas – looks anything like Jesus. Yes, it needs to die.

But for too many of us, it is the only Jesus we’ve known.

Now, as all that gangrenous flesh is being cut away from the marrow and bone of the Body, we are feeling the shock of it. The truth of the matter is that none of us alive right now will be here to witness what grows from this dying. Over the last generation, many of us have grown accustomed to thinking that #winning, #blessing and #bigcrowds are signs that we must be doing something right in God’s sight. No matter how many times we heard and sang that it’s not about us, the truth is that too much of it has been. 

As I’ve been working on a book about spiritual maturity at midlife and beyond, I’ve had a lot of time to ponder (a) my own seemingly-endless supply of immaturity and (b) what it is we’re passing down to the next generation and the one after that. Perhaps because of (a), I recognize that I’ve often focused on the here and now. A fuller understanding of legacy-creation often accompanies maturity.

To extend this to the Church, we have too often chosen to be held captive by all the trappings of youth, and haven’t thought with any depth about what we’re passing on to our great-great-great grandchildren should the Lord tarry. Oh, we’ve focused like helicopters on our kids, but the stats about the exodus of Millennials from the Church highlight the fact that much of what we’ve created for them in our faith communities doesn’t have much sustenance to it. If it can’t make it to the next generation, it certainly won’t make it to the one after that. 

Nothing has the potential to form us into spiritual adults like death does. As DeGroat noted, it is not too late for us to stop, to let the losses humble us, and to grieve. And not just for a 4-week sermon series. 

We need to sit shiva with Jesus. Part of that process is a call to prayer. Part of it is remembering and reclaiming what has been good from our lives together in the Church – because there has been good. Part of it is recognizing what is dying and needs to be surrendered in repentance. Part of it is presence with one another so that grief doesn’t drive us apart. As counterintuitive as it feels, if we grieve well, we will be creating a legacy of faith that all our Big Programs and brash talk could not. 

Church history tells me that God’s Story is bigger than our failures. And His Word tells me that he only wants the best for his Son – a pure, spotless bride. Before there will be a wedding, we’re invited to a funeral. Let’s sit shiva together, friends. 

 

Cover photo by Anton Darius | @theSollers on Unsplash

Sitting Shiva with Jesus

I’ve always liked the Jewish practice of sitting shiva (shih-vuh) for a week after a funeral instead of cramming all of the goodbyes into a wake and memorial service or funeral. Shiva.com has a good working definition: 

Shiva begins immediately following the burial and lasts for seven days, ending after the morning service on the seventh day. Shiva is not observed on the Sabbath (Friday at sundown through Saturday at sundown) or on holidays. While shiva is the seven-day period following burial – and many mourners do choose to observe shiva for the full seven days – it is common to find that some families may only sit shiva for one-to-three days, depending on many factors, including the family’s level of observance or the deceased’s instructions or wishes.

I am not an expert on the practice, but having gone through truncated and not especially religious versions of shiva after the deaths of both of my parents, I can tell you that the extended time at home given to formal mourning allows the family to connect one-on-one with those coming to express their condolences. People stop by throughout the shiva period, often bringing food (so much food), and there’s a little more time to visit with each of those who come to offer words of comfort than I’ve ever seen at a wake or memorial service. It can be exhausting for mourners to have an open house for a week, but the mourner isn’t supposed to lift a finger. They are to receive, to grieve, and to be held by the prayers and care of others. 

I thought about the ritual of shiva as I reflected on Chuck DeGroat’s excellent piece entitled Trust the Process: Stewarding the Death of the American Church. DeGroat is a professor at Western Seminary, and writes (and tweets) about abuse and church trauma. His words crystallized further what we’re all witnessing, not only in Evangelicalism but in every branch of the American church right now. DeGroat said: 

In times like this, anxiety reigns. Our instinct to protect and preserve kicks in. Reactive inclinations like scapegoating and polarizing trump unhurried, reflective processes and careful thinking. In our social media age, we take to tactics that resemble mine from a long time ago (and today sometimes!) – efforts to correct and fix and convince – but in a depersonalized, sound-byte fashion.

Our anxiety is mitigated by the cheap drug of certainty. Our strategies become hostile, invasive, and (if you think you’re right, no matter your “side”) justified assholery (you won’t find the word in a theological dictionary, so don’t bother looking.) It seems that if you think you’re right, being a bully is permissible.

I don’t know exactly how this dying will play out. I’m anxious about it. It impacts my longtime call, my livelihood, even my daily mood. I’m trying to resist the urge to fix it or to propose some “this is how we’ll save the church” recipe. I’m learning to attend what I can control in my little sphere and surrender the rest.

We are witnessing the death of a lot of familiar but incredibly unhealthy inclinations in the Church. None of it – the abuse, the denials, the hubris, the edifices to our own vanity, and the cutting-and-pasting of Bible verses to suit our own agendas – looks anything like Jesus. Yes, it needs to die.

But for too many of us, it is the only Jesus we’ve known.

Now, as all that gangrenous flesh is being cut away from the marrow and bone of the Body, we are feeling the shock of it. The truth of the matter is that none of us alive right now will be here to witness what grows from this dying. Over the last generation, many of us have grown accustomed to thinking that #winning, #blessing and #bigcrowds are signs that we must be doing something right in God’s sight. No matter how many times we heard and sang that it’s not about us, the truth is that too much of it has been. 

As I’ve been working on a book about spiritual maturity at midlife and beyond, I’ve had a lot of time to ponder (a) my own seemingly-endless supply of immaturity and (b) what it is we’re passing down to the next generation and the one after that. Perhaps because of (a), I recognize that I’ve often focused on the here and now. A fuller understanding of legacy-creation often accompanies maturity.

To extend this to the Church, we have too often chosen to be held captive by all the trappings of youth, and haven’t thought with any depth about what we’re passing on to our great-great-great grandchildren should the Lord tarry. Oh, we’ve focused like helicopters on our kids, but the stats about the exodus of Millennials from the Church highlight the fact that much of what we’ve created for them in our faith communities doesn’t have much sustenance to it. If it can’t make it to the next generation, it certainly won’t make it to the one after that. 

Nothing has the potential to form us into spiritual adults like death does. As DeGroat noted, it is not too late for us to stop, to let the losses humble us, and to grieve. And not just for a 4-week sermon series. 

We need to sit shiva with Jesus. Part of that process is a call to prayer. Part of it is remembering and reclaiming what has been good from our lives together in the Church – because there has been good. Part of it is recognizing what is dying and needs to be surrendered in repentance. Part of it is presence with one another so that grief doesn’t drive us apart. As counterintuitive as it feels, if we grieve well, we will be creating a legacy of faith that all our Big Programs and brash talk could not. 

Church history tells me that God’s Story is bigger than our failures. And His Word tells me that he only wants the best for his Son – a pure, spotless bride. Before there will be a wedding, we’re invited to a funeral. Let’s sit shiva together, friends. 

 

Cover photo by Anton Darius | @theSollers on Unsplash

A vaccine to innoculate against Prosperity-itis

Prosperity preaching is not just for TV preachers. Prosperity-itis has infected us all. One vaccine against it might be found in a very old school source. 

I appreciated this analysis from writer Brandon Peach, who explains that we’ve married American notions of the Good Life with the call to follow Jesus:   

God wants to you be successful and happy.” Do you believe that?

Many of us do, or at least we accept it subconsciously.

Prosperity theology has found its way into modern evangelicalism, and it’s become a dangerous notion to contend with as we seek to know God more fully and experience Him in our personal lives.

The idea that obedience to God, at least in some vague way, results in health and wealth has been present in American Christianity since at least the 1800s. Widely known as the “prosperity gospel” this theological approach to Biblical teaching posits that God’s desire is to bless us with material blessings and a life free from illness and pain. While it has been thoroughly rejected by most mainline schools of Christian thought, prosperity theology is sneaky, having found its way into the worldview accepted by many denominations.

The pursuit of middle-class comfort is, if not uniquely American, woven into the fabric of the American Dream. As Christians, we often fall into the assumption or belief that God desires very much that we be comfortable, when throughout Scripture, this idea is challenged again and again. The “prosperity gospel” would have us believe that God wants us all to be wealthy, self-sufficient, cozy.

Its analog in the wider Church isn’t necessarily that God wants us to be rich, but perhaps a little bit richer. A little bit more successful. A little bit better off.

Christianity as a winning formula is underscored for us in dozens of ways designed to tap into our own aspirations. We cheer attractive Hollywood celebrities who dare to say Jesus-y things every so often while on media tour for their latest movie. We buy books by beachy-waved authors telling us to wash our faces and bootstrap our way to the life we deserve. We fill the stages of larger churches with youthful, talented performers singing the latest Tomlin or Bethel Top 40 almost-crossover hit. In countless conversations, we use words like #blessed to spiritualize our acquisition of new stuff, which not-so-subtly implies that those who can’t keep up with the Joneses might be #cursed. And some of us flinch at or ghost those who suffer, as if their condition is contagious.  

As I wrote here*, 17th century preacher and writer John Bunyan would have been very, very surprised by the way in which we celebrate “winning” in the Church. Bunyan stood against moral compromise in every form, and became a lay preacher during the 1650s. He drew the ire of authorities who heard subversion in his holiness-themed messages, and he landed in prison in England in 1661. Magistrates told him he could go free if he’d lay off the preaching, but he refused. Instead, he remained steadfast in prison for the next twelve years. The prison was his desert. It was the place where he was transformed from cultural exile to spiritual pilgrim. 

While incarcerated, he first penned his autobiography, Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, which offers a compelling snapshot into John’s inner world—a world filled with intense battles with temptation, doubt, and his own pride. After the book’s publication in 1666, he used what he’d mined from his own soul to craft his masterwork, The Pilgrim’s Progress from This World, to That Which Is to Come, the allegory describing the believer’s journey through life.

The book has stood the test of time, though modern readers will find that Separatist preacher Bunyan occasionally takes aim in the text at a few of his religious opponents including Quakers, Catholics, and Anglicans. Even so, generations of readers have been inspired and challenged by his work. For many families, this book was the second one they’d add to their library after they purchased a family Bible. Pilgrim’s Progress has given the church the language to talk about the spiritual journey, It is a 

While I haven’t yet seen the new animated version of Pilgrim’s Progress, which is scheduled to run in theaters on April 18th and 20th, I am encouraged that something of Bunyan’s alternate approach to “winning Christianity” will be out there in the public square, at least for a short while. If we treat the movie as another safe-for-the-whole-family consumer experience, we will miss the point. But if the movie drives us again into Bunyan’s message, that discipleship is a lifelong journey on a rugged, narrow road that will require us to die to ourselves, always fighting various temptations that attempt to hijack or sidetrack us, we may again find a narrative that more accurately reflects the way of Jesus than the Prosperity Gospel  ever will. 

Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. (Matthew 7:13-14) 

Even if you’re not planning to see the movie, I can commend to you a couple of versions of Bunyan’s story that are well worth your time if you are looking for a more accurate companion to help describe what it looks like to follow Jesus on that narrow road: 

Bunyan, John. Edited by Rosalie de Rosset. Pilgrim’s Progress: Moody Classic Edition. A lovely, readable version of this essential text for your library.

Hunkin, Oliver. Dangerous Journey: The Story of Pilgrim’s Progress. This volume is aimed at readers ages ten and up. The gorgeous illustrations make the familiar story come alive.

 

*I devote part of a chapter in Born to Wander: Recovering the Value of our Pilgrim Identity to Bunyan’s work. And I hope it doesn’t sound too self-serving to say that some of you may find this book’s exploration of the themes of exile and pilgrimage through Scripture make it a worthwhile companion to your reading of Pilgrim’s Progress. 

Looking for your input: how do we talk about family in the church?

Typically, I don’t share bits of my writing work-in-progress because…well, it’s in progress, which means it’s not quite ready for prime time.  

But I’m breaking my own rule because I’m looking for some feedback on this snippet of a longer piece discussing the focus in the modern Evangelical church on marriage and family. I’ll first share the bit of writing, then I’ll tell you the kind of feedback I’m hoping to hear from a few of you.   

 * * * * * * *

Imagine with me that you’re a time-traveler who is zapped from the present to a time shortly  after Joseph and his family were reunited in Egypt after more than a decade of separation (Genesis 46). You join the family as they sit over a lingering meal re-telling their family history. They speak of Abram’s family in Ur, and recount with a sense of worshipful wonder Abraham’s call from God and describe the details of his journeys with Sarai and his nephew Lot. They remember their miracle forebear Isaac and their half-uncle, Esau. The patriarch of the gathering, Jacob, regales you all with stories of his youth. You’re struck with the honesty with which the family talks about the stresses and rivalries that tore them apart. Their conversation is marked with a palpable sense of forgiveness and humility. Each one seemed to clearly recognize how God had been at work in their imperfect family. despite their sin and failure.

They ask you to tell them about what life is like in the future. After telling them a Savior for the whole world would be born from their line, you describe the new community, the church, that would be grafted into Israel’s story.

“What does that new community look like?” Joseph asks you. The rest of the group falls silent, waiting to hear what you will say.

You try to summarize the Exodus, the Chosen People’s journey back to the land of Israel, the Babylonian captivity, the journey of some of the Chosen People back to the land of Israel, the birth, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus, and two thousand years of church history as briefly as possible, then explain that the church in your day and time has many different expressions throughout the earth.

“Well, what is it like where you live?” Benjamin asked.

You respond by first describing your own church, and then telling this family that has filled the pages of your Bible that family is the one of the most important emphases in your church culture, too.

“How so?” asked Judah.

You tell them about the coarseness of the culture surrounding you and some of the ways that this culture seems to devalue family. Then you describe all of the books, seminars, camps, and sermons designed to show people how to create a God-honoring marriage and family. You explain that modern couples expect to feel a sense of romantic love (after explaining what that is, as the notion was not common in the Ancient Near East), have happy, well-adjusted children, and shine as perfect exemplars of Jesus the Messiah in a dark and difficult world.  

There was a long pause. Then Judah said, “Sounds like maybe family might be a little like an idol for some of your people.”

Joseph looked at the assembled group said, “I don’t think our family would measure up to your standards.” The rest nodded and laughed. He continued, “I love you all, but I could never make a god of a family like ours. After all, there’s only one true God, blessed be his name.”

 * * * * * * *

So my questions for you are: How does your church or circle of Christian friends view the family? Is there a strong focus on building good marriages and families in those communities? Does the focus seem to match what the Bible portrays of family? Do you think this “time travel” illustration makes sense or stretches the point? 

Fire away in the comments section, friends!  

 

Cover photo by Mike Scheid on Unsplash

What’s Growing In The Soil Of This Town?

The first building in this 13-second video, The Cotillion banquet hall, used to be Willow Creek movie theater in Palatine, IL. It was also the first site of Willow Creek Community Church, which met here from 1975-1981 before moving to their own building in nearby South Barrington. The last building in this video, a hulking gray warehouse just beyond the abandoned gas station and on the far side of the Metra commuter rail tracks, is the first building owned by Harvest Bible Chapel. After renting in a local high school after its launch in 1988, Harvest moved into the old Wickes furniture warehouse in 1995. Though a few hundred feet away, the road and tracks are a boundary line. Harvest’s zip code lies in Rolling Meadows, IL.

Within the last year, the founding pastors of both of these highly visible and influential churches have been the subjects of dramatic exposes of long histories of abuses of power that have included sexual improprieties (Bill Hybels at Willow) and bullying and gross financial mismanagement (James MacDonald at Harvest) resulting in very public downfalls. Bill Hybels of Willow “retired early” as a result. James MacDonald of Harvest is on an “indefinite sabbatical” as the story of the mess at the church continues to unfold. 

I grew up in this area. Before I had kids, I worked for a while in an office building that overlooked both sites. I’ve lived in this area for the last 7 years. And every time I drive by these buildings, I ponder what the significance might be that both of these churches grew – literally – in the same soil. What is it about the spiritual climate and culture of this area that was such excellent fertilizer for two congregations that in their heydays attracted tens of thousands of seekers and worshippers each week? 

My Charismatic friends would say that the rise and fall of two megachurch pastors that had congregations at one time across the street from one another (though not at the same time) is connected to spiritual warfare; specifically, territorial spirits that control a certain geographic area. For those who’ve never heard the term, Wikipedia offers a succinct summary:

“Territorial spirits are national angels, or demons, who rule over certain geographical areas in the world, a concept accepted within the Charismatic movement, Pentecostal traditions, and Kingdom Now theology. This belief has been popularized by the novel, This Present Darkness by Frank Peretti, as well as by the ministry of Peter Wagner. The existence of territorial spirits is viewed as significant in spiritual warfare within these Christian groups.”

I’ve known people who are all-in spiritual warriors, focused entirely on identifying and praying against the demon army they are certain is holding their zip code hostage and keeping the area from revival. I don’t affirm the emphasis or much of the theology behind this thinking, but neither can I dismiss it entirely. We can see throughout the Old Testament prophetic books particular words given to specific cities and nations, naming both sin and promises, and in the New Testament the spiritual personalities of the churches in particular regions reflected their local culture’s values. History, economy, generational sin and power structures all combine to create a local culture that attracts and celebrates some kinds of sinful activities more than it does others. These folks would say that God was doing Big Things through these Big Churches, and that the problem lay in the fact that the enemy wanted to take them down.

My non-Charismatic friends would agree that the devil was at work, but only on an individual basis. Bill Hybels, James MacDonald (and each person in their circle of enablers) succumbed to personal temptation. Sadly, I can report that both men’s were whispered about for years among churchgoers living in this area. For me, the only real surprise about either man’s story was that they were finally exposed after being shielded by their fame and coddled by their inner circle for years. I assumed they were the Evangelical equivalents of business leaders helming institutions deemed too big to fail by their constituents. I believe that there was plenty of individual sin which occurred in the lives of individuals. I also believe that there is a spiritual history and personality in this area that served to nourish the hubris-fueled growth of both megachurches.

And it is the effect of both individual and corporate sin that will continue to shape the way the Gospel is proclaimed here. Unchurched and de-churched people reading the news-grabbing headlines in the local press and are watching the fallout in the lives of their Willow and Harvest friends. The incense of toxic religion perfumes the atmosphere in this area like a giant mound of burning tires. Abuse of power, coverup, and hypocrisy are a noxious black cloud that can obscure a clear view for a not-yet-believer of a Good Shepherd who is walking the streets of the northwest suburbs of Chicago in search of his lost sheep.

Even if we never attended either church, all of us who are followers of Jesus are connected to these congregations whether we like it or not. We in the Church are in a time of exposure of sin and right-sizing of our triumphalist ways. We must accept this discipline as a gift of the One who is in search of a pure, holy Bride for the Son.

As well as seeking the spotlight of the Holy Spirit to reveal sin in our personal lives, I believe it’s a necessary exercise among those guiding churches and ministries to do some periodic, prayerful  reflection around the local culture in which they’ve been planted: 

What is the history of your area? Who settled the area? Were there battles that took place in your town? Were there people uprooted from the land to make way for settlers? Where did the settlers come from – and why?
What is the spiritual history of your area? What churches were planted? What churches have died? Divided? Was there ever a time when your town experienced spiritual renewal?
What is the demographic of your area? Where do people work? Do people move a lot or stay put?
What are the biggest social challenges people are facing in your area – for example, is opioid addiction a major issue in your town?

If we are called to resist the devil, we do it individually and we do it together – eyes open, alert to both our own personal temptations and the story of the place and time in which we live as an expression of the body of Christ: “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.” (1 Peter 5:8-9)

What do you think? Is sin both individual and corporate? How does your church assess and respond to not only the present needs of the place in which it is planted (say, through a food pantry outreach), but does ministry in light of your area’s history and culture? 

 

A word to those in the inner circle of a church

If you see something, say something. 

But if you say something, know it will cost you. 

In the wake of the exposure within the last year of toxic leaders and cultures at Willow Creek and Harvest Bible Chapel, there’s been a quiet self-assessment going on among some of those who enabled these leaders at an earlier stage of the ministry despite experiencing warning signs. I heard it at the GC2 summit at Wheaton college last month from former Willow staffer Nancy Beach when she asked the audience to consider how they might be benefitting from access to power in a church. It might be a job, for example, or a plum ministry position, a sense of significance or of belonging. She said bluntly and confessionally that there’s something in it for those in the inner circles of a church’s power structure, and its very easy to use Christian-y language about service and submitting to authority in order to rationalize the act of muting warning signs about a toxic leader. 

Those sentiments were echoed in a recent Facebook message by former Harvest worship leader Matt Stowell, who wrote about what he gained from being in Pastor James MacDonald’s inner circle at the church a decade ago: 

I think that most of us felt that Harvest was the biggest thing, humanly speaking, that we would all ever be a part of – traveling to cool places; being invited to speak at conferences full of people who actually wanted to really listen to you; hobnobbing with famous people; making six figures as a 32-year-old worship leader… these are all things that are understandably hard to want to give up. They’re the kinds of things that condition you to not rock the boat. Who would be crazy enough to purposely flush an incredibly prosperous career or dare to try and go against the powerful, unspoken Christian cultural ethic of never “speaking poorly” about your church or pastor? It was hard to envision a situation where I could actually confront James without fear of where it might lead. If there was ever a sense that you were out on James, you would soon find yourself literally out.

Though I have had access to power (another way of saying, “been in leadership”) in a couple of congregations, that access has too often placed me in the role of a whistle–blower. Apparently, my need for justice is greater than my need to belong.

But I’m no Joan of Arc. I also recognize that my own deep desire for connection and relationship drove me to seek a place in those circles to begin with. And because I showed up on the periphery of this or that inner circle offering skills, knowledge, and experience, people in leadership were willing to invite me in: “A gift opens the way and ushers the giver into the presence of the great” (Proverbs 18:16). It took me a long time to recognize that my own needy hands were offering those gifts, which meant they weren’t really gifts, but transactions. I believe I truly gave out of love for God – but my motives were not always pure. I also gave at times to get a need met, and so did Nancy Beach and Matt Stowell, and many, many others who’ve turned a blind eye to a rotten but charismatic leader. 

I am watching with great interest and compassion as some former “inner circle” leaders are beginning to come to terms with the shadow side of their service to God, their Big Kahuna pastor, and the church. The still-to-be-written story in the public stories of church leadership failure is the way in which the people surrounding the pastor enabled his little sins to grow into ginormous ones by their silence or complicity. James 3:1 says, “Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.” (3:1) A false teacher, the category which includes someone who teaches wrong doctrine but also includes a teacher who says the right words but lives a hypocrite’s divided life, can cause a world of hurt they can’t even imagine that ripples far beyond what their own eyes can see.  

When Jesus calls us to carry the cross, it might well mean that the parts of you that are wooed by having a place in the inner circle – the parts that justify turning a blind eye to problems because we’re “helping people”, “people are depending on us”, or “we have a ministry reputation to protect” – those parts are going to have to die. Expect that you will be branded the problem, and nothing in the organization may change for a long, long time. At one church where I stumbled upon a leader who was involved in sexual sin and called it out, it took more than a decade before the truth was finally revealed. If you speak up, especially in during a problem pastor’s nascent phase, you’ll probably lose your ministry position, reputation, and some of your friends. It is going to cost you. 

But the cost will be far higher if you chose to do nothing. 

If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell. (Matthew 5:29-30)

Have you ever been a part of a church’s “inner circle” and discovered an unhealthy culture there? Were you seduced by it? Did you hope you could remedy it? Were you successful?

Cover photo by rawpixel on Unsplash

Update: Where In The World Are The Van Loons Going Next?

The short answer to this post’s title query: Still trying to figure it out.

No stumbling pilgrim in the dark / the road to Zion’s in your heart. – Petra, “Road to Zion”

I’ve never seen a book end with a comma. But when you’re writing about the Jesus-follower’s life, it seems as though a comma should be the way in which most books written by living authors should finish. A comma is a pause, a way of telling the reader the thought is not yet fully expressed.

In the months since the July 1, 2018 release of Born to Wander: Recovering the Value of our Pilgrim Identity, my husband and I found in the exhausting and all-too-familiar position of trying to discern where we’re going to be living next. After lots of research and prayer over the last few years, we’ve zeroed in on a central Florida city that does not have Mickey as a neighbor. Based on the fact that our current lease on our quirky rental house ends 2/28/19 and my husband’s I.T. consulting contract ends 6/30/19, we’ve been in home search mode over the last few weeks. We found what looked to us to be an affordable choice with a lovely guest room for family and friends and made an offer. I flew down last week for the inspection, which uncovered beaucoup problems with the place, including A/C, ductwork, mold, plumbing, and a bit of electrical, just to round out the expen$ive list of repairs. The owner wasn’t in a repairing or negotiating frame of mind, so we chose to walk away from the deal. Merry Christmas to us.

I’m not in the best of health, and the thought of having to move twice (first into some sort of short-term housing before we make a second longer-term move out of state) was keeping me up at night more than I usually am. Let’s just say I’ve seen one too many Johnny Carson re-runs on one of the oldies channels on basic cable.

We were grateful that a couple of amazing people reached out to us to offer us shelter if we had to move out of our current house at the end of February and before the end of Bill’s contract in June. The body of Christ is alive and well, despite some rumors to the contrary. But it appears with so much fact-checking, reading of our current lease, and emails to our corporate landlord in another state that we can sign a lease for one+ more year here, and pay a two-months’ penalty to exit that lease early when the right next spot for us comes on to the market. It’s painful, but cheaper than moving twice.

The last couple of weeks, it’s felt like “stumbling in the dark”, to be honest. Despite sermon series’ that imply there are just Four or Seven or Six Easy Keys to Unlock YOUR Successful Christian Life, most of us learn that following Jesus rarely looks like a choreographed set of predictable dance steps. Sometimes, like right now, it feels kind of klutzy.

…even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. (Ps. 139:12) 

I wrote a book of which I am very proud about wandering and pilgrimage, I also recognize that the book ends with a kind of invisible comma as my earthly pilgrimage continues. I don’t yet know where we’re going next. I do know we have a roof over our head today, heat, clothing, food, friends, family, and a God who says of those who love him, “…though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand” (Psalm 37:24).

If you read these words and God leads you to pray for us, we’d value your intercession for the right next place for us (and the visitors we hope to host) and the right timing.

Photo by Austin Scherbarth on Unsplash

Reflections on “Reflections”

Yesterday, I attend the GC2 Summit at Wheaton College, hosted by the Billy Graham Center. The summit was designed to challenge church and organizational leaders to address sexual harassment, abuse, and violence in their midst. Speakers included some well-known names from the Christian community (Beth Moore, Max Lucado) as well as mix of others with expertise to add and stories to tell. Christianity Today offers a good summary of the event here.

A friend asked me to attend, and I decided to do so because of my own experience of spiritual abuse, years of confronting the sexual sins of leaders in some of the churches of which I’ve been a part, and the many treasured relationships I have with those in the survivor community. In addition, I’ve written about these topics as long as I’ve been blogging – now almost 13 years.

I went into yesterday’s summit with a couple of reservations. One of the organizers of the event, Ed Stetzer, has in the past been a supporter of a pastor who has covered up sin in his own camp and created a very toxic environment in his network of churches. And one of the speakers, Christine Caine, recently settled a lawsuit accusing her of plagiarism, and is connected with a pastor who is facing credible charges of coverup of a sexual sin in his church. For these and a variety of other reasons, some in the survivor community were unsupportive of yesterday’s event.

I also attended with great confidence that some of the speakers with whom I’m familiar would not pull any punches. Beth Moore has been a prophetic and powerful voice in recent years. Nancy Beach has been an integral part of the Willow Creek story of the last year. Belinda Bauman was one of those behind the #silenceisnotspiritual response to violence against women. I should note I’ve seen Ed Stetzer willing to speak truth to power, and I’ve appreciated his writing through the years, and hoped for the best from him and others at this event.

Disclaimer: While the Summit was happening yesterday, I was also getting text messages from a realtor in another state as we’re in the middle of maybe trying to buy a small condo. I say this only to note that I wasn’t always able to focus on each speaker. (Pro tip: real estate negotiations and conference attending aren’t a good combination.)

With that note, here are some observations about the day. I appreciated the intentionality behind the speakers and the way the day was organized. Bible teacher Lindsay Olesberg began the day with an exposition of one of the more searing passages in Scripture. Caine, Moore, and Eugene Cho spoke next. Because abuse survivors Caine and Moore found refuge and healing in the church, their stories were canted toward encouraging churches to recognize that they are called to be communities of healing. Eugene Cho (and others throughout the day) pressed leaders to get women’s voices and diverse voices at the table as an essential expression of what the body of Christ is meant to be. From my perspective, the glaring omission in the morning’s lineup was in the fact that there were no speakers who’d survived being abused by a church leader. Those voices are an essential part of this conversation, and it bothered me that none was represented.

Next, a panel of professionals tackled dealing with trauma, Wheaton Provost Margaret Diddams discussed workplace bullying and power dynamics, and preacher R. York Moore closed that section of the day with a message about finding healing in a healthy, full-orbed understanding of what it means to be created in the image of God. No complaints about this section of the day, save that it was just a bare introduction to what is a complex topic.

After lunch, Pentecostal preacher Jeanette Salguero discussed her own abuse and journey toward wholeness, and then we were given time and space to process what we’d heard to that point of the day via a time of silent prayer. Following that, some calls to action from Belinda Bauman (speaking out on issues of violence), protecting children (Kelly Rosati), and listening to the voices of Millennials and Gen Z’ers on these issues (Laurel Bunker). These issues should be what we’re known for as followers of Jesus, but the fact that we had to be reminded of these basics underscores how far many of our institutions have drifted from our mission. One person not present, but who belonged in this part of the day’s speakers is Boz Tchividijan, whose organization, GRACE, does essential work in these areas with churches.

The final section of the day addressed power dynamics in churches. Ed Stetzer issued a call to leaders to humble themselves. Nancy Beach was frank and specific in her remarks asking those surrounding the inner circles of power to consider what they’re getting out of supporting a toxic leader. I had to leave before Max Lucado closed the event, but I learned he revealed his own #metoo story. I think the subject of power dynamics in churches could use about 3,692 summits. It is at the core of every kind of abuse, and only the wounded and disempowered tend to speak about it right now. (I’ll include myself in that number.) A speaker I heard about 30 years ago said, “You can either do it God’s way, or do it God’s way”. He meant we can either choose to surrender to Him, or be required to surrender in the end. Voluntary surrender is what a crucified life looks like, and for leaders, this means taking a good, hard look at the dynamics of power and what it does to their souls – and their followers.

I appreciated that the Billy Graham Center did not pay any of the speakers, and that any profits from the day were being donated to an organization that cares for survivors. I think the event was a worthwhile first step, even with what it lacked, and I’m glad I went. I pray that the people who came (particularly church staff groups) DO SOMETHING with what they heard, and don’t just check it off a list as a staff development day. I hope that Summit organizers will continue to press this issue for the sake of victims, survivors, perpetrators, and the sake of a Church who is called to be a pure, spotless Bride – and will be in the end.

Gun-shy Committing to Church?

My friend Joy and her family relocated to a new state a few months ago. I checked in with her recently, and asked her if they’d found a church yet. There was a long pause before she answered.

“Committing to a new congregation is a lot harder than I thought it would be. We’ve been through so much when it comes to church.”

After he left seminary, Joy’s husband had been on staff at a church full of the familiar buffet of problems and politics. His hopes and ideals crashed headlong into an ingrown church culture that was perpetually teetering on the verge of a split. They ended up leaving the church after several years of trying to prayerfully work toward change and healing.

She continued, “When we attend services at a church that seems to be a good fit, I find myself wondering what dysfunction is going on behind the scenes. I am hyper-vigilant for any whiff of bad teaching or politics. I wish I could be as innocent and trusting of church leaders as I used to be. My husband and I both grew up in the church. We thought we knew what we were getting into after seminary. We didn’t know squat. I can’t forget all the hurt and lies we’ve witnessed. Forgiveness is a process, and I keep working through it. I do believe I’ve forgiven the people in our former church. But I just don’t know what to do with the suspicion that rears its ugly head on Sunday mornings.”

I’ve wished the same thing for myself and my husband. I remember what it was like to become a part of a church for the first time when I was a young adult. The Jesus Movement birthed the young churches of which my husband and I were a part in those early days: a couple of Messianic congregations, then an independent Charismatic church: young congregations led by immature leaders, most of whom saw no need for older mentors or any sort of oversight. All of it was a recipe for spiritual abuse, and that’s precisely what unfolded in our lives during our 20’s and early 30’s.

God has used good counselors, faithful friends, and time to bring a measure of healing to those deep wounds. However, that healing did not restore the trust I once had in my leaders. Like Joy, I’ve had times when I wished I could return to an earlier time in my faith journey, when I believed everything my church leaders said without question. Because I did, and was willing to respond to whatever requests they made of me to serve in the church, I was rewarded with the sense of belonging. When I remember those feelings, I wish I could recapture something of them in my relationship with a local congregation today.

That sense of wistful nostalgia passes when I remember that what I felt during those days was not based in reality. I believed in a lie. Oh, it was blended with truth – enough beautiful truth to connect with what I knew of God and his Word – but was mixed with the rot of the then-hidden sexual sins, greed, and ambition of the leaders I trusted.

However, the healing God has brought in the years since did not restore the kind of innocent confidence I once I had in my leaders. This as a good thing. In their book The Critical Journey: Stages in the Life of Faith, authors Janet Hagberg and Robert Guelich note that when we’re first discovering what it means to live a disciple’s life, we naturally choose to follow the leader. “In this stage we learn the most about God as perceived by others we respect and trust. We are apprentices…Because we are relatively unsure and insecure at first in our growth and in what we believe, it is very useful to include others in this phase. In fact, it is crucial to this phase of the journey.”

This means that as we grow in faith, our relationship will change with our leaders. In a healthy church community, this change will often happen as an organic part of life together. As we become less dependent on the group for our spiritual identity, we can grow more sure of our ability to relate to God and others out of our gifts, strengths, and experience.

On the other hand, a crisis or conflict may catapult some from an unhealthy church – and from church altogether. Others who stay (but switch churches) are often saddled with pain and confusion that can take a long, long time to process. Growth may come in the wake of spiritual trauma, but happens despite dysfunctional leaders or churches.

My friend Joy told me she wished she could reclaim her childlike faith. “There is no going back,” I told her. “Doing so would mean erasing the wisdom and experience God has given you. You will never be the innocent you once were.”

Surviving spiritual abuse means I’ve had to learn to balance my wariness (especially if I sense a leader is practicing those familiar old power games) with a commitment to remain vigilant about allowing bitterness to take root in my soul. I don’t try to silence my internal critic during a church service or gathering, as this voice serves an important role in helping me to remember where I’ve been and what I’ve learned. However, I work to listen for the things that harmonize with that critic by seeking to worship God in community, be present with others he’s placed in my path, and serve without feeling the compulsion I once did to say ‘yes’ to every request. Submission to a leader doesn’t mean blind obedience. It must begin with mutually-respectful fellowship rooted in God’s love.

This post first appeared here. Photo by Artur Rutkowski on Unsplash