As one might expect, a recent New York Times article covering the firing of Hillsong Church East Coast pastor Carl Lentz caught my eye. I’m very interested in how power and celebrity affect the Christian church, especially the American brand, and Lentz at Hillsong is a beautiful model of how that works. So of course, it was no surprise when the article’s red flags started popping out at me: “[Hillsong’s] great innovation was to offer urban Christians a religious environment that did not clash with the rest of their lives.” And later, when the article describes a “reserved seating section for V.I.P.s” that appeared at the front of the church, eventually expanding to take up several rows.
I see things like this and can’t help but wonder what it would be like for aliens to come to earth and be given a Bible. What would an honest reading of that book yield for someone who has never seen nor heard of its contents (or seen the results of what we humans have drawn from it – both good and bad)?
Some of it would be easy pickings, I’m sure. A “reserved seating section for V.I.P.s” would be right out (if you read James 2:1-9, you’d think it was addressed to Hillsong specifically). Offering anyone “a religious environment that did not clash with the rest of their lives” would be pretty easy too (read what Jesus says in Luke 14:33 (and elsewhere) to answer this one). I could keep going: Private jets? No. And not because they didn’t have jets in Jesus’s day. Mega-rallies where carefully selected and manipulated people are “healed”? Sure, people came to Jesus and later the apostles to be healed (certainly not in the mega-business manner it’s done today by the likes of Benny Hinn), but this wasn’t the focus of their ministry. Far from it.
But then we get into a few things that aren’t quite so clear. Jesus, and later some of the apostles, spoke to huge crowds. So, are we good with megachurches (context helps here – were the crowds the Church? Not really when you look at what the church is later in Acts.)? Paul talks about being supported by those to whom he is preaching the gospel. So just how rich should our pastors be?
For clarity though, we still have to ask the question, “where does it all come from?” How much of what the Church does squares with the Bible and how much of it is cultural? Where in the Bible do we see some of the traditions we now hold as vital to running a church? What defines things like Church government, membership, or hierarchy in leadership? I’m not saying they shouldn’t be there, and there are sound arguments for much of it in some form or other. But how much of what we see in place now has been influenced by the way things are done in the secular world?
There’s plenty of evidence out there to show us that when the Church is persecuted and driven underground, it flourishes. And in these cases, outside of the primary reason being that a persecuted church turns first to God for its strength, we can also see a large part of it depending on that which grew the Church in the first place. It is here we see the work of the Holy Spirit and the Word in building and strengthening the community. We see a sense of responsibility and an investment in the people on a deeply personal level. In some cases, we even see a reemergence of the miraculous as a source of comfort. One thing we don’t see though are the structures and governments that “managed” the Church’s existence when times were good.
But still, we know that a sense of organization and structure is indeed biblical. Elders are appointed. Deacons are selected. But the Bible doesn’t take us beyond those first few moments of the Church. It doesn’t take us to a point just a few hundred years later, when Christianity was finally accepted by the ruling authorities and so became politically attractive to those seeking power. And yet, it’s been shown again and again that the Church functions brilliantly where it is small and structurally powerless in the face of the world. It is then that it doesn’t try to be like the world, but relies rather on the root of what truly matters to it.
It’s a state of affairs backed by centuries of empirical evidence – once political power is injected into a movement, organizers step in and become a major part of what makes the movement “work.” This isn’t always a bad thing – we need organization. But not at the expense of the truth. Not in this matter. We cannot let a desire to fit into the culture of the times overcome what the Church must teach. The gospel isn’t an optional sideline. It is the heart of the matter – the main event. Without it, the government of the church is completely meaningless. When what’s being done in the Church becomes the end to which the means must bend, it has lost its purpose. Those in the Church cannot let the survival of the building and the governing structure within it become primary while what is actually taught within the walls is treated as just one of many offerings on the menu.
And that’s what it is sometimes. Churches become so busy trying to make sure everyone is comfortable – that they have the right nursery, the right children’s programs, a good men’s ministry, great music, etc. – that they forget that all it takes is the faithful preaching of the word and a clear application of its consequences to the lives of those who gather there to make all of the difference that matters. It is then that people step up and run a nursery, or teach a Sunday school, or hold a men’s breakfast. Not out of obligation. Not out of a means to keep a program going. But out of a love for God and a desire to make him known to the world.
The Gospel is portable. It doesn’t rely on a building. It doesn’t even rely on the person proclaiming it – especially a man in a suit, elevated and up front to draw a crowd. It’s well past the time when the people of the American Christian Church start living like that. On top of that, I say this preemptively, because within the next few decades, they very well may have no choice.
And what I’m really saying here is that’s not a bad thing.
