Immeasurable: Reflections on the Soul of Ministry in the Age of Church, Inc.

by Skye Jethani

In our enlightened age of metadata and best practices, we believe that ministry—like everything else—can be accomplished through proven principles of control. I call this sub-spiritual, mechanical approach to ministry “Church, Inc.” It is shorthand for ministry devoid of mystery, for pastors who assume that the exercise of their calling is a matter of skill more than the gravity of their soul. It represents the exchange of the transcendent calling of Christian ministry with mere management of religious institutions and services.

Richard Halverson, the former chaplain of the United States Senate, observed: In the beginning the church was a fellowship of men and women centered on the living Christ. Then the church moved to Greece, where it became a philosophy. Then it moved to Rome, where it became an institution. Next, it moved to Europe, where it became a culture. And, finally, it moved to America, where it became an enterprise.1

We have replaced the love of the living God with sacrifices to the Idol of Effectiveness. When we bow to this idol, it steals our joy and replaces it with an unbearable burden. We begin to see everything—our value, our identity, even the absence or presence of sin in our lives—through the lens of effectiveness. But the most tragic lie the Idol of Effectiveness tells us is that a life spent in service for God is the same as a life with God.

There is an important truth that ministers need to hear as much as, if not more than, everyone else: God does not need you. He wants you. He did not send His Son to recruit you to change the world. He sent His Son to reconcile you to Himself. Your value to God is not in your effectiveness, but in your presence.

We condemn our culture for devaluing human life it deems useless—the unborn, the elderly, the mentally disabled, the immigrant, the poor, etc.—yet the same utilitarian values of efficiency and practicality that fuel these societal sins are no less common within the church. As ministers of the gospel of Christ, we must stand boldly against the popular belief that everything and everyone exists to be useful. We must remember that in His grace God has created some things not to be used, but simply to behold. After all, the Lord not only created a garden for the man and woman with every tree that was useful for food, but also every tree that was beautiful to the eye (Gen. 2:9). Sometimes we are the most like God when we are being the most impractical.

True worship can never be wasteful because it seeks no return on investment. True worship is never a transaction. It is always a gift—an extravagant, “wasteful” gift.

To really grasp Paul’s point here, we need to look back at the context. Paul places the discussion of Christ’s gifts to the church, leaders, and their task of equipping the saints within the larger, cosmic mission of Jesus to rule over everything. The question Paul is addressing here is, How does Jesus extend His rule over all things? The answer: By giving the church leaders, filled with His power, to equip His people to serve Him and manifest His rule everywhere.

Leaders within the church are called to equip us to serve Jesus everywhere, every day, and in every aspect of our lives.

Rather than empowering people to manifest God’s reign in the world, vampire churches seek to use people to advance the goals of the institutional church. Success, therefore, is reached when a person is plugged into the apparatus of the church institution rather than released to serve God’s people and their neighbors out in the world, through their vocations, and in communion with Christ. This drive to use people rather than empower them is what drains the life out of them.

1. The church is the community of God’s redeemed and empowered people. 2. The church institution exists to equip God’s people. God’s people do not exist to equip the institution. 3. Ministry is not limited to what we do within the church institution, but should include what we do to manifest the reign of Christ in the world.

Our instinct to protect the sheep under our care is a good one; heaven knows they need someone to keep them safe. But when feeding and tending becomes controlling, we’ve overstepped our role as a shepherd. We may think it’s our job to call as many people into ministry, missions, or church work as possible, but a disciple’s specific calling always comes from Christ. Our task is to lead disciples into deeper communion with Him. Christ’s sheep need a shepherd. They already have a Lord.

Most pastors and church leaders, as well as the resources created to help them, are primarily concerned with these two dramas—the practical and the theoretical. What should I do and what should I think? But we deceive ourselves if we believe these two dramas comprise the bulk of our life or motivation. Because behind the drama of the practical, and far deeper than the drama of the theoretical, there lies a third drama more powerful than either, and whose silent movements control them both—the drama of the eternal.

Likewise, our energetic and often frenzied pace in ministry (the drama of the practical) finds its headwaters in the drama of the eternal. Do our actions, even the busy ones, flow from a soul at peace in the presence of the Lord, or are we accomplishing objectives from an idolatrous desire to serve our ego? The

Jesus lived and served from a soul at one with the Father and an identity secure in His love. From this inner place He drew the strength to do mighty works (drama of the practical) and teach profound truths (drama of the theoretical), but more importantly He found the courage to endure outward failure, ridicule, and abandonment. The drama of the eternal, His inner communion with the Father, defined and determined the outward drama of His life. Unfortunately, too many of us in ministry have it the other way around.

our communities are littered with the debris left by destructive spiritual forces: divorce, addiction, injustice, racism, materialism, dishonesty, abuse. If your community is soiled by any of these (and how could it not be?), you are engaged in a spiritual battle with unseen forces. Remember, the New Testament doesn’t just present spiritual warfare as a cinematic battle between angels and demons. Scripture speaks about the systems of “the world” as corrupt and destructive. In other words, spiritual battle isn’t just with demons, but with dehumanizing systems, too. For Paul they are one and the same.

the Bible and history have taught us anything, it’s that God is notoriously uncooperative at our attempts at controlling Him. We want to contain Him, institutionalize Him, and systematize Him so that we can ultimately understand, predict, and control Him. So, when the Lord does something unexpected, when He complicates our life or our world, it’s a reminder that control is an illusion. We never had it, and we never will. That awareness is a gift.

There is no question that churches, denominations, and missions organizations are facing challenging times, but we have a calling higher than maintaining those institutions. We have a goal greater than keeping control of resources. The entire purpose of churches, denominations, and missions organizations is to empower God’s people.

Engineering a ministry to be antifragile with redundancy is not efficient, but that shouldn’t stop us from investigating its other benefits.

Only after people have a vision of God (the love, beauty, justice, and power of His kingdom) will they be ready to intentionally seek and employ the means to experience him through obedience—an aspect of spiritual formation that occurs most effectively in smaller settings through the medium of relationship. Preaching

One way this happened in my church was a ten- or fifteen-minute segment of our Sunday gatherings we called “Offerings of Worship.” People in the congregation are invited to stand and share a story, a prayer, a passage of Scripture, a song, or a piece of art—anything they wish to give as worship to God and encouragement to the community.

I may have come more prepared than Kathy, Michael, Paul, or Timothy, and my content may have focused more on Scripture than personal experience, but my purpose was the same—to enrapture my brothers and sisters with the beauty of God and His kingdom, inspiring them toward faith and good works.

I used to believe the best communication was crystal clear, simple, and easy to listen to. For this reason, like many other preachers, I was persuaded by advocates of PowerPoint and multimedia to use visual aids in order to make my communication easier. But is easier the right goal, or should we be seeking engagement, which requires more work of our listeners rather than less? I’ve largely stopped using slides or pre-written notes. If someone is going to “get” something from my sermon, I now want them to have to work for it—at least a little.

our cultural drive for comfort and accessibility may have unintended side effects. All of us, just like pilots, drivers, and athletes, do not thrive by being underchallenged, but by turning off the autopilot and engaging in their own journey.

Ignoring work or condemning our culture’s idolatry of it is not enough. Instead we have the challenging task of affirming the original goodness of work as a God-ordained part of our humanity without falling into the culture’s trap of making work into an idol. We must cultivate a redeemed vision of work.

redeeming work requires an orderly rhythm of work and rest. Without regular periods of rest, our work loses its meaning and value and deteriorates into chaotic toil.

What our culture has lost is a rhythm of work and rest in a frantic pursuit of achievement.

Discerning our specific callings comes through a mature communion with the Holy Spirit. In other words, a theology of vocation is contingent upon a practical theology of prayer. But if we do not slow down, cease from our work, and learn to commune deeply with God, we will not be equipped to hear His call.

Without a robust communion with God through which we discern His call, we revert to the autonomous self. We think that our work in the world is determined by ourselves. We ask, “What do I want to do?” rather than, “What is God calling me to do?” The former is predicated on personal preference or self-awareness, the latter on prayer and self-surrender.

Isn’t Sunday supposed to be a time to cease from our work, gaze out the capsule window, and contemplate our lives and calling from a cosmic perspective? Aren’t the songs, sacraments, and sermons supposed to reveal the wonder of God’s kingdom amid the chaos of our world, and prepare us to reenter the atmosphere on Monday with a renewed sense of meaning? How did the goal on Sunday shift from feeding sheep to recruiting them?

Talk with your leaders about what a daily, weekly, and annual rhythm of rest could look like within your ministry. How can you prevent the dehumanizing, mechanical drive of Church, Inc. from drawing you and your people away from a flourishing and abundant life in Christ?

Sadly, as our culture’s capacity to engage and maintain meaningful relationships has deteriorated, we have seen a rise in popularity-based rather than proximity-based authority. And the same trend is evident within the church. Just because someone has a large ministry or has sold millions of books doesn’t mean we should automatically grant him authority over our life, faith, or congregation. As many entertainers, politicians, and church leaders have proven, it is possible to build a large platform and yet lack the character or competency to faithfully wield it.

The antidote to popularity-based authority is the quiet power of pastoral presence.

ministry requires us to know and engage those we seek to shepherd.

My concern is not materialism, strictly speaking, or even the consumption of goods—as contingent beings we must consume resources to survive. The problem is not consuming to live, but rather living to consume.

When we approach Christianity as consumers rather than seeing it as a comprehensive way of life, an interpretive set of beliefs and values, Christianity becomes just one more brand I consume, along with Gap, Apple, and Starbucks, to express my identity. And the demotion of Jesus Christ from Lord to label means to live as a Christian no longer carries an expectation of obedience and good works, but rather the perpetual consumption of Christian merchandise and experiences—music, books, T-shirts, conferences, and jewelry. Approaching Christianity as a brand (rather than a worldview) explains why the majority of people who identify themselves as born-again Christians live no differently than other Americans.

Under consumerism, the fulfillment of desire has become the highest good and final arbiter when making decisions—even when deciding where to worship.

Scripture champions contentment and self-control, not the endless pursuit of personal desires. Unfortunately, teaching and modeling these increasingly un-American values is not a high priority for Church, Inc. In fact, many churches are using the same desire-inducing marketing techniques pioneered by consumerism to draw people through their doors.

One of the core values of consumerism is choice. With each additional option, the shopper is better equipped to construct their unique identity.

Whether we’re ordering a latte, downloading music, or worshiping God, consumers demand options. But this poses a problem. Scripture and tradition tell us that formation into the likeness of Christ is not accomplished by always getting what we want. In ages past, choice was not heralded as a Christian’s right. In fact, relinquishing our choices by submitting to a spiritual mentor or community was seen as a prerequisite for growth in Christ. Shepherds guided believers through formative and corrective disciplines, most of them activities we would never choose to engage in if left to our desires. But surrendering control ensured we received what we needed to mature in Christ, not simply what we wanted.

In consumer-Christianity, however, church leaders function as divine baristas, supplying spiritual goods and services for people to choose from based on their personal desires. And our concern becomes not whether people are growing, but whether they are satisfied—often measured by attendance and giving. An unhappy member, like an unhappy customer, will find satisfaction someplace else.

In our society, the only value an object has is the value I give it. A commodity exists to satisfy my desire and supply my needs—nothing more. Because consumerism has formed us to engage both goods and people this way, it should surprise no one that in our culture God also has no value apart from what He can do for me.

the core values of consumerism were incongruent with the Christian life. The satisfaction of our desires is not the goal of life. The church does not exist to supply spiritual goods and services to religious consumers. And God is not a commodity that exists to make you feel better.

In the economy of God’s kingdom, there is not a single thought, feeling, or moment that is lost. Nothing is unseen or unrecorded. God is our witness. But as church leaders, we are tempted, perhaps more than others, to believe that our value is defined by the visible, quantifiable, and tweet-able aspects of our lives. How many came? How many followed? How many liked? This is a soul-crushing mistake, and is perhaps why we struggle with prayer. Prayer, which is our private communion with God, is not something others can see. In prayer only God is our witness, and in prayer only God is our reward.

Learning the way of Jesus means accepting, and even embracing, our embodied limitations. It means emptying ourselves of the desire to be everywhere, do everything, and engage everyone, and instead be fully present for the spectacle of redemption happening right where we are.

Stott came to recognize that forcing every facet of the Christian life into a mission or evangelism framework simply wouldn’t stand, and asking whether evangelism or justice matters more misses the point entirely. Instead he concluded that social justice and evangelism “belong to each other and yet are independent of each other. Each stands on its own feet in its own right alongside the other. Neither is a means to the other, or even a manifestation of the other. For each is an end in itself.” Therefore, according to Stott, our participation in social action is not fueled by a missional imperative, evangelistic pragmatism, or even theological certitude, “but rather simple, uncomplicated compassion. Love has no need to justify itself.”

To put it simply, many church leaders unknowingly replace the transcendent vitality of a life with God for the ego satisfaction they derive from a life for God.

we’ve already seen how a deep fear of insignificance can fuel great achievement. It may be presented to the world as godly ambition and a passionate desire for God’s mission, but in truth we are desperately trying to win the praise and approval of both God and people. This intermingling of God’s mission with prideful ambition (when well hidden) can win a person great acclaim within Christian communities, and it can produce genuine good in the world as people are aided by the works we accomplish. However, when we are motivated by fear more than love, and driven by our ego more than Christ’s Spirit, a never ending drive to prove our value can consume us.

The temptation within activist streams of Christianity is to put the good mission of God into the place God alone should occupy. The irony is that in our desire to draw people away from the selfishness of consumer Christianity, we may simply be replacing one idol with another.

The older son was devoted to his work, to his achievement, to his father’s business and mission. And for his faithful effort the older son was expecting a reward; a public acknowledgment of his hard work and the esteem of the whole community for his service. In this regard he was the same as the younger son. Neither boy was primarily focused upon a relationship with the father; instead both were focused on what they might get from him.

Jesus is not condemning commitment to God’s mission, but he was warning about the dangers of finding our significance and value in it rather than in God Himself. Jesus is not diminishing the older son’s service, just as He is not endorsing the younger son’s sinfulness. Rather, He is showing that both religious consumerism and religious activism fail to capture what God truly desires for His people.