Reappearing Church

If we endured a global flu pandemic, like the one in the early part of the twentieth century that killed millions of people across the world, how we view and process our personal potentials and possibilities would be deeply shaken.

Peter Senge observes that “vision without systems thinking ends up painting lovely pictures of the future with no deep understanding of the forces that must be mastered to move from here to there.”

Joshua Ryan Butler says, “The heart of the problem is the problem of the heart.”4

The concept of transitions is essential to understanding renewal. George Hunter, writing of the potential for renewal in the secular West, notes that when it comes to openness to the gospel, “persons experiencing important life transitions are more receptive than persons in stable periods of life.” Such transition “tends to ‘unfreeze’ their lives and makes change possible.”1 Individuals in the midst of a life transition are thus more open to the gospel. Transitions open up new potentials for renewal. They move us into a new phase, opening up the possibility of renewal. This is true not just of the unbelievers of whom Hunter was writing, but also for those of us who hunger for renewal.

To many, such a time as this seems foreboding, unknown, and unsafe. If we measure what is happening through the metrics of success the world offers, it can seem worrying. Yet, examining our moment through spiritual lenses, we will discover this transition opens up all kinds of new possibilities.

To the contrite of heart, the humble, the meek in spirit, God’s presence is received as waves of love. Yet for the proud, the rebellious, the autonomous, the individuals and systems that wish to continue Adam and Eve’s rebellion to reanimate the project of Babylon, to reach for progress without presence—for such people and systems, those same waves of love that are God’s presence are experienced as judgment.

We cannot escape from the promise that we can have it all. We also cannot escape from the truth that we can’t have it all.

That we live in systems, and our dissatisfaction or, indeed, satisfaction in life flows from the health of the systems in which we live in.

A gnawing sense of resentment and discontent, and an accompanying failure to flourish, is a sure sign the system of Western culture is failing and ill.

“Shalom refers to something that’s complex with lots of pieces that’s in a state of completeness, wholeness,”

The hardware of the West—our roads, our hospitals, our safety initiatives, our institutions—is good hardware, which creates the possibility of living lives of flourishing. Yet we are running infected software in our system—a vision of individual life, freedom, and happiness that undermines the benefits of our hardware.

Both the contemporary left and right seek to expand personal freedom as the solution to the human condition.

A feedback loop is at play; our radical individualism and culture of deconstruction have rejected many of the cultural resources—such as community, traditions of moderation and restraint, and even the valuing of routine—with which we historically absorbed social anxiety.

progress without presence.

The human life is only a functioning life system when we live as temples filled with the presence.

Mission with suspicion, and holiness with a holier-than-thou facade. Faith is thrown back into a pre-Christian posture, back into the flesh. Even after Christ has come, the failings of Israel can be repeated by those who, like Lot’s wife, look backward.

Yet soon, chasing our God-given purposes without the power of His presence, our churches, our services, and our lives are packed full. Those empty spaces, in which we wait on Him, His leadings, and His voice disappear. We lose the capacity for voice recognition because we have fully and unquestionably given over to the high-achievement performance lifestyle of the twenty-first-century West.

The surface may appear presentable, but underneath, the flesh still reigns; thus such people may seem to be good Christian folk, leading reputable lives, visibly advocating for causes of justice, volunteering, and even leading, yet underneath lies not the presence, but a humanly powered engine. Such people, while appearing as functional and even faithful believers, unwittingly work against the flourishing of the vital church. “Their pharisaism defends them both against full involvement in the church’s mission and against full subjection of their inner lives to the authority of Christ.”9 Their agreement with the tenets of good biblical faith masks that one of their feet is in the camp of the Pharisees.

It is important to understand that many who are disillusioned with, or even repelled by, Christianity are in reality only disillusioned with or repelled by dead orthodoxy, worldly Christianity, or cultural Christianity.

renewal occurs when people get to the end of themselves, when the social bonds that have kept us strong begin to break, when the stories we have told to explain the world no longer make sense.

We religiously point the finger at others while jealously guarding our own right to do as we please.

We must make the decision to no longer tolerate our low level of faith, our personal dysfunction, and give ourselves over to God’s burning desire to remake us in Christlikeness.

Only Christ can change us, but we must take responsibility for choosing to be changed.

Our culture of digital consumption constantly forms us into a posture of passivity. Our drive to ever-increasing individual autonomy ironically leads us to herdlike behavior.

We cycle between running ourselves ragged and then retreating to the couch to binge on Netflix and Uber Eats. Never working well, nor resting well. Passive-aggressive because we never confront our frustrations directly. Instead we become trapped in our own feelings and anxiety of getting it wrong, protecting ourselves with a brittle veneer of confidence. Unconsciously, we continually shift blame to others for our own lack of growth, then circle back to condemning ourselves for our inability to achieve the lifestyle we desire.

The Christian caught in consumer Christianity shifts blame for their lack of growth to God, their leaders, the church, their friends, spouse, or family, insulating themselves against renewal. We fool ourselves that someone else will solve the problem of our lack of discipleship.

Contending is choosing to step into the hard places with God,

Consumer culture disciples us to change our external situation through purchasing to bring pleasure, meaning, and happiness to our inner world. Contending takes the opposite approach. Personal renewals begin in the hidden places, often driven by solitary prayer and self-examination, communion with God, fasting and the habits of secrecy, the uprooting of sinful patterns, and confessions with trusted leaders and pastors. Eventually this inner change of the heart will overflow out into our external lives, creating a potential for renewal in the social world around us.

Contenders refuse to accept opinion without responsibility, commentary without action. They choose to count the cost. They dive deep into commitment. They know that Christ is with them and that His renewal is the only truly safe place in the world.

Arthur Wallis writes, We must be miniature forerunners, each in our own sphere. It is not enough to prepare the way in our own hearts; we must prepare the way in the hearts of others. This is a ministry which demands steadfastness of purpose, desire and expectancy, for it is fraught with disappointments. Some seem to catch the vision at once, but setbacks, delays or opposition take their toll, and they lose that vision.7

Spiritual authority is God-given influence, an ability to move others toward God’s purposes, not through human powers of motivation, but through a holy life that flows outward. As we surrender our wills, we become tools in His hands, agents of His influence.

Western culture, then, is a kind of giant secular cathedral, a globalizing mega-temple oriented around post-Christian worship, which shapes us at profound, and unconscious levels, leading us away from renewal, and toward personal and corporate decline.

We therefore are also created to shape the world while we are reshaped ourselves for God’s purposes. God achieves this through the patterns of worship in our lives.

These realities present significant challenges to our model of church as those who enter our communities and systems struggle with basic issues of life functionality.

It doesn’t matter if it is a megachurch filled with programs, a liturgical high church, or a missional house church—if those walking into your community see physical presence at your activities as a low priority, if they lack the emotional resilience to receive gentle instruction, or find it normal to pull out of a volunteer leadership task via text message with half an hour’s notice—any church will struggle to function as growing numbers of people professing faith, yet shaped by the anti-renewal machine, join their community.

The reality that we must face is that so much of the functionality and fruitfulness in the church and Christian world is emerging from people living out life patterns from a previous era,

Renewals emerge from leaders who are positionally weak but spiritually powerful. Revivals burst from groups that are small in number but strong in God’s presence.

Napoleon described those within his army, known as his “Thirds,” in which he noted that a first third of his army would welcome change, the middle third would move as the first third embraced change, and the last third would resist it. By concentrating on the first third, like a worm inching forward, the whole army would progress.6

Our lives are designed to be in intimate relationship and friendship with God. When we don’t pray, we become spiritually dehydrated. Understanding now that the challenges of life are to be met not with futile human striving but on the bended knee, prayer becomes indispensable to living.

To, as the book of Ezekiel states, “Stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land” (22:30).