Fix This

One of the biggest changes in my thinking this past year has to do with my philosophy of ministry. The change was building up slowly, but it didn’t truly confront me until listening to The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill.

Just about every episode related to my experience in ministry, but as someone far away from the action and the movements tied to it, affected as though by waves from a massive ship over a great distance. But I did feel convicted in one area: the desire to fix the church.

You see, before I had even set my sights on ministry, I had the sense that the church was in trouble and needed help. And for my whole adult life, it occurs to me that I have been following people who feel the same way. They are often passionate and frustrated members of Gen Z. As I reflected on my life, I realized that it wasn’t just chance that put them in my path. I had been drawn to them. They got it.

So these leaders and influential friends fueled the fire in my soul, but they didn’t cause it. The roots went back further, into my childhood. Yes, you could probably pin some part of it on the whole late 20th century in general with its emphasis on end times and fear that the church was a lukewarm Laodicea on the verge of being spat out by God. But I believe the way it mostly came to me was through youth group revivalist culture.

What I mean by this is the Bible lessons and songs that I remember from my elementary years may have focused on fighting evil sometimes, but mostly we sang about God and learned about the Bible. Even in junior high, the songs we were singing were focused on God and very Scriptural. (I actually transcribed the lyrics from the transparencies we used on our overhead projector, and I transcribed those to the computer sometime in college.)

But the change did begin in junior high. It may have been in some of the lessons. I confess, I don’t remember most of them, even though I know they influenced me. But I know for sure that’s when I was introduced to CCM. Songs like “Jesus Freak” and “Love Song for a Savior” were now part of my repertoire, and they were only the beginning.

And it’s there that I can trace the roots of my thinking most clearly. I remember rewinding the tape on Jesus Freak to listen carefully to what was being said right after the title track: “the greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, and then walk out the door and then on with their lifestyles. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” (Quoted from memory. The actual text may have minor differences.)

That was just the beginning. There was “Gomer’s Theme” from Third Day (“she’s forgotten her first love”), “Lost the Plot” by the Newsboys (“once we could follow / now we cannot / you would not fit our image / so we lost the plot”), and more.

One that has really stopped me in my tracks is “Unite!” by the O. C. Supertones (again, quoting from memory; double-check to see for yourself):

Ooh yeah, got a beef with the fence-sitters
Tares among the wheat, the cop-outs, the quitters
Cut from the branch, fruitless, no good
Only one use and that’s firewood
…
The problem’s not Washington,
The problem’s not Hollywood,
The problem’s a weak, divided church of schismed Christians

I’m choosing to quote from memory to demonstrate the deep marks they left on my soul. Lyrics stay with you. It was mid-90s Christian rock that taught me the church was falling apart and needed saving by the faithful.

As a high schooler, having switched to a different church, we began singing Vineyard songs that were much more revivalistic. The church services at the time also included regular altar calls. It was then that I was also starting to read Christian publishing like Josh McDowell, the Left Behind series, and Chuck Colson.

My point is this: my desire to fix the church came from the church itself.

I’m calling it “youth group revivalist culture” because I see my experiences are part of a broader movement. Many churches target teenagers with the call to revival, using everything they can to create an environment that pressures them to commit more deeply and cast off the sins that hinder. Because no one is perfect, there is always something new to confess, some area where you could do more, and the fear that there is some clue in your life that reveals you aren’t as “on fire” or “sold out” as you could be, or even as you thought you were.

And if you take all this more seriously than your neighbor, then it’s awfully tempting to prove your passion by distancing yourself from them, calling them out.

I’m so glad I didn’t experience more of this. But I did experience more than enough. And with friends leaving the faith, church leaders fighting amongst themselves, and a steady decline in Christian influence over Western culture, the choice was clear. God wanted me to step up.

God was counting on me to fix this.

And right from the beginning, it caused trouble. You see, everybody thinks the problem is somewhere else, so when you start trying to fix the church, the leaders get edgy. At best it’s misguided, but at worst it’s divisive. Church leaders, it turns out, don’t really want you to fix the church; they want you to follow them.

Which is exactly what we should do! Except no one is perfect. And sometimes people get really far off track without realizing it. How do you help them?

A lot of people leave and start their own thing, which shouldn’t surprise anyone. After all, in low church Christianity, you don’t need permission to start a church; you just need enough people following you to give you credibility and enough money coming in to fund your projects.

What has kept me from going that route, by the grace of God, are two things in particular: first, a love for the local church, and second, a love for church history.

The secular pop song may say, “if you love them, set them free,” but the reality is more like “if you love them, swallow your pride.” However zealous I have been to fix the local church, I am more zealous for unity and healing. As a good Baptist, I know that church is fundamentally the people, not the organizations or possessions associated with them. A revival that destroys God’s church is no revival at all. You can’t fix the church and leave its people broken.

Church history has taught me to question my assumptions about the way things ought to be, my ideas of progress as opposed to what should never change. It has kept me grounded in beliefs and practices that aren’t rooted in 20th century America or evangelicalism or even Protestantism. They are rooted in the early church. That’s not to say that I’m always right, or that the early church was always right (there was a lot of diversity even then). But church history has helped me gain perspective through conversation partners outside of my world.

And so my desire to fix the church and my desire not to fix the church that way both stem from a love for the church. It all boils down to one thing.

As a result of listening to The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill and recognizing how deep this passion to fix the church goes, I can see more of the pattern in my own life. I got a hint when watching LOST and Jack told his wife “I’m going to fix you.” That was a punch in the gut. That was me. Someone has a bit of messiah complex.

It also struck me, much later, listening to an interview with Mark Noll. He said that the people who often change the world aren’t the ones who set out to change the world. He was talking to me. I was trying to change the world, looking for the best foothold I could. Some people want to change the world by fixing America. I reasoned back in college that you couldn’t fix America unless you fixed the church, and so I have been working there ever since.

But assuming Noll is right, that means there is a trap there for people who want to make a difference. They will spend their lives trying to get more influence, believing that God will be disappointed with them if they don’t. How many souls do you have to save? How big the audience? How many books do you have to write? If your goal is to change the world, what could ever be enough?

And so I am trying to let go of all of that. I have come to realize that whenever I walk through the doors of a church, the Holy Spirit was there first. He loves the church more, and He is the one who builds her up. I am blessed any given day to simply be close at hand.

Yes, there are many problems. And yes, we should address them. I am in no way excusing or condoning any kind of unfaithfulness. But I’m convinced that the old ways I thought about this are wrong, and I’m still learning what the new ways should be.

I’m stuck on one phrase that I think might be a clue: “. . . do you love Me? . . . Feed my sheep.”