23 May 2025

Stop reducing your statement of faith to fit on your front marquee

There are many legitimate reasons to leave an organization.  Where I've been planted for over a decade, it would take quite a change of culture, ministry philosophy, or vision -- or a specific calling from the Lord -- for me to uproot.  However, I have made it clear to the team with whom I serve that there is one hypothetical situation that would unquestionably send me packing...

One of my biggest pet peeves is church marquees.  To borrow a friend's analogy, they are like the worst of Twitter (X).  The example included here (courtesy of ChatGPT) is far less offensive than some actual ones I've seen in my area recently.  But even this attempt at wordplay, though adopting a humorous posture, is nevertheless offering commentary about this imaginary congregation's not-so-generous view of other faith traditions.

Digital, screen-printed, or old-school plastic, marquees come in a variety of distasteful flavors.  In no particular order, here are just a few types of content that especially make me cringe, groan, and/or low-key rage every time I drive by:

  • Dad jokes
  • Political commentary or patriotic slogans
  • Clunky attempts to make faith pithy
  • Sappy invitations that presume to know the audience
  • Out-of-context Bible verses or phrases
  • Inflammatory or mean-spirited statements presenting one-dimensional theology
  • Sadly out-of-touch attempts to be culturally relevant
  • Weak efforts to de-legitimize other churches, faiths, or denominations

Who doesn't love a good dad joke, right?  I'm a dad.  It's like my emotional currency with my kids.  But is the church marquee where I want to unload those classic groaners, particularly in association with ideas that I believe are sourced from divine and timeless truth?

How imperative is it that passersby know that the unborn right to life is the capstone of your church's statement of faith, and why does that precede the gospel as the thing of first importance for the community to know about your belief system?

Is it truly helpful to encapsulate in simple catchphrases complex Scriptural teachings that entire volumes have been written to address and expound?

While the inspired words of the Bible have great power, and even an excerpt can be a mechanism the Holy Spirit might use to open eyes to the truth of the gospel, should we continue to feed into soundbyte culture that wants everything condensed into pill form?  Or should we instead make it our practice to be inviting them to participate in a much larger, longer, and richer conversation?

I'm just asking questions.  I may, in fact, share a church's viewpoint on a particular issue, and yet I cannot align myself with their manner of communication.

As far as I'm concerned, there is only one reason for a church to have a marquee, and that is to communicate relevant information about times for gathering.  Even then, I'd still be a proponent of ripping that thing out of the ground and planting a shrubbery instead.

Now that I've complained, let me do some explaining.

Everything communicates, and first impressions are often the most enduring (not the most endearing).  The Church's purpose -- being salt and light, a city on a hill, a redeemed and anointed priesthood to the nations -- does not mean we have to take an aggressively outspoken and public stand on every divisive cultural issue.  How helpful is it to proclaim what we stand against?  Shouldn't we strive to be known only by our love for the simple, uncluttered gospel of Jesus Christ: God Himself freely offered for sinners?  Those outside our gatherings need only the invitation to come.  There, they will hear from us -- personally and over time! -- our particular views on and practices of all other matter of ethics, faith, and theology, where they can be more fully treated and understood.

There is no possible way to encapsulate a rich and nuanced theological point in the amount of characters available on a marquee.  One-liners are a butchers knife or a cudgel while truly pastoral teaching requires a scalpel, wielded with laser-focused precision.  Churches should never prefer bluntness over carefulness, especially not in their most forward and exposed statements to the community around them.  It's easier than ever to be misunderstood in a TikTok-trained, media-saturated, ADHD soundbyte culture, so why feed into the trend?

Attempts at cleverness directly undermine compassion and care.  Is it really a good thing for people to get the sense that your church is "down-to-earth" and "doesn't take itself too seriously?"  Do we not cheapen or tarnish something precious and of infinite value by making light of it?  Are not the things pertaining to following Christ of eternal importance?  Is not the gospel a message of hope and rescue to hurting and needy people?  We should adopt the Apostle Paul's sincerity: he insisted that believers must not be like street peddlers of worthless trinkets, just trying to make a buck for themselves, but rather present ourselves as ambassadors of the New Covenant, proclaiming the triumph of Christ over sin and death, and inviting the lost into an eternal Kingdom of healing and hope (2 Cor 2.17).

Loud political opinions reflect poorly examined and badly applied theology.  It's worth remembering that there are genuine, grace-covered followers of Jesus Christ on both sides of almost every single issue that divides us.  After all, Jesus called both Matthew (a tax-collecting stooge for Rome) and Simon (an anti-imperialist Jewish zealot) to walk together with Him in their shared ministry to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.  Even if you can argue your view from Scripture as the "right" one, truth cannot be properly articulated without grace, because our beliefs are not isolated or disconnected from our conduct.  Our manner of speech, verbal or in print, should always reflect Christ's heart of compassion for those who are lost, and a willingness to pursue unity even in our various perspectives.  Broadcasted marquee opinions are, by their very nature, devoid of tact and opposed to the spiritual discipline of good listening (Jas 1.19).

Personal invitation is always more gospel-centric than enticement or provocation.  By their messaging, some churches seem to favor luring the spiritually curious into their services.  The marquee is like a movie teaser for the jaw-dropping blockbuster release of the sermon.  Others use intentionally divisive language as a challenge to outsiders, daring them to react.  Either approach reeks of arrogance.  If our goal is to be mysterious and coy, we reveal our pride over our own spiritual insight and imply that we delight to make theologically uneducated people feel small.  Faithful preaching is neither entertainment, nor should it be an opportunity to flex our spiritual muscles.  On the other hand, if our intent is to use our marquee to spout fire and brimstone, it may as well be a bullet-riddled "No Trespassing" sign, declaring to the community that anyone holding a different viewpoint is unwelcome and beyond the saving hope of the gospel.

Bottom line: it's problematic for a church to misrepresent Christ, the gospel, and God's intent for His people.  As churches, God's people should strive to be as clear, thoughtful, and intentional as possible in all of their communication efforts, especially those targeting the community outside, who have no context to understand our levity or passion.  As individual followers of Christ, it's likewise critical that we be purposeful and winsome in how we communicate.  Everything from bumper stickers to t-shirts to social media posts must be weighed carefully.  These things don't nearly point to Christ as much as we might think they do.  More often, they just serve to highlight our own ideas and opinions, not the gospel.

So!  I'm routinely grateful that our church doesn't have a marquee out front.  If we ever do get one, well...

05 July 2024

You can't have your cake and eat it too

I think I've put my finger on one of the most terrible effects of the Fall.  I'm sure I'm not the first.

I sense it on a long holiday weekend, when the enjoyment of anticipated rest time is overshadowed by the knowledge that the next day will be a return to routine.

I sense it when I'm sitting in my home library, looking at all my unread books, and all the books I've read but want to re-read, and also the 7 or so I'm currently in the middle of, and find myself paralyzed by the options and by the needling sense that I really only have 20 minutes to sit, and the seconds are ticking even as I peruse the titles.  I find myself wondering if it's even worth opening a volume, because by the time I'm engrossed in the subject matter, it will be time to move on to the next task.

I sense it when the glorious quiet of a Friday afternoon has arrived, when Zeke is at school and the girls are down for naps, and an hour's worth of productivity or rest is before us... and yet there is this acute awareness of the seconds passing even as we try to enjoy them, this persistent sense of the finite nature of the moment.  With or without interruptions, it often feels like those minutes have passed before we've even had the opportunity to enjoy them.

I sense it when, for whatever reason, I find myself awake in the middle of the night (usually because a child has made an unscheduled visit to our room).  I first check the time, let out a deep, relieved breath that there are still hours until dawn, but then immediately start doing the math: "Even if I fall asleep right now, that still only gives me x hours until the alarm goes off..."  The next day's weariness sets in right then and there, before the sun has even had the opportunity to rise.

I feel it in the conflicted desires I feel to run screaming and wild with the kids, but also sit with Tara and listen to our records and sip our coffee and talk... but what about the stack of books I want to get through (see above)?  And what about all the house stuff that has to get done, that we've been putting off because it isn't urgent?  And when are we ever going to clean out the cars and the garage?  And what about exercising (pfft!)?  There is simply not enough time to do all of these things.  Tara and I complain about our energy and productivity levels, and the frustration we experience of wanting to be home and resting on the days when our schedules are exploding, and of feeling productive and motivated on the days when all of our plans are falling through.  I desire to sit and write daily, but typically when I have time to actually do some uninterrupted typing, that cursed muse just doesn't want to provide any creative juices.  On the other hand, when we're scrambling to get out the door by a certain time, I am chock full of ideas that will all get lost in everyday errand-running and calendar-keeping.  Our desires resist our attempts to schedule them.

I sense it during the seasons when I have a full ministry calendar, chocked with great opportunities to preach, study, disciple, and meet with other believers.  And yet there's always a home I'm leaving to accomplish these things.  I am so energized by worship rehearsals and conferences and weekends away with brothers in Christ, but all of these things represent late nights, travel, and things that keep me from precious time with the kids.  Home with my family is my absolute favorite place to be.  And yet, I have a privileged calling to serve God's people, and I am truly fulfilled in carrying out that role to the best of my abilities, even if it means sacrificing much time to do so.

I feel it when I consider the places I would love to visit -- Greece, England, Israel, the national parks, etc -- and (cost notwithstanding) realize the unlikelihood that I will ever be able to put my feet on any of those soils and also be a financially responsible adult.  Even if we started planning yearly trips now, we will reach but a small fraction of the globe before our lifetime expires.

Maybe all of this strikes you as cushy and simple.  Selfish, even.  It feels that way to me too.  And doubtless, lots of privilege is being exposed here.  Maybe it's just the product of getting older or being a parent, or maybe I've lost my ability to be truly and fully present in any given moment.  Whatever the root cause, I sense such a heaviness around time passing that I don't remember feeling in years past.  And so, I keep coming back to that tired old adage that it's impossible to hold on to the things we want to enjoy, and that by trying to hold onto them so tightly we make it impossible to truly enjoy them.  We shouldn't cling to what is meant to be enjoyed in the present.  Cake is meant to be eaten, savored even, but consumed soon after the baking -- not stored in a poorly ventilated English basement for 6 decades (see Seinfeld, S9 E18).  Display cases keep us from meaningful appreciation, and are ultimately just one more thing to be dusted.

I was also recently reacquainted with the famous journal entry by missionary Jim Elliot, who would give his life in Ecuador for the sake of the gospel: "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose."  Jesus' words clearly meant much to this faithful disciple (compare Matt 16.26; Mark 8.36; Luke 9.25; John 12.25).  It yields no benefit for a man to lose his soul to gain the whole world, in all of its temporary glory, when surrendering the best this life has to offer is the route taken by those who have entrusted their souls to the Lifegiver for eternal safe-keeping.  There is rich and abiding wisdom in differentiating the myriad things we can't keep anyway from the one singular thing that can't be taken: that one thing which we could never do anything to earn, and which is not ours not because of our power to hold it.

Further, there's ancient truth in the realization that God has put eternity into the hearts of His image-bearers (Ecc 3.11).  With sin in the picture, that means we will constantly experience the tension between what is eternal and what is transitive, what is passing and what is yet to be.  To have both this current minute and to anticipate the next one, but to know from the evidence of the minute past just how fleeting is the present one...  This is the problem of being finite.  Of being temporary and knowing it.  It's the desire to relish each and every grain of sand falling through the hourglass, to pause the flow, to reverse it.

I started by calling this knowledge one of the worst effects of the fall.  Other disastrous effects of sin in the world are nothing to diminish.  I can't say from experience what carrying a cancer diagnosis or severe bodily impairment is like.  I also can't personally describe the depths of loneliness and isolation that have defined the lives of others.  For some in these positions, the brevity of time might seem like a blessing, or perhaps their perception of time is that, in the suffering, it slows to an unbearable crawl.  When things like grief, sickness, guilt, and fear are all rampant in the fabric of our existence, it's difficult to seriously quantify any other negative experience as being more terrible.  And yet, when I consider this subtle undercurrent that gives an inescapable context to all mortal experience, it feels like a heavy, sorrowful thing that manifests in every small moment.

In the end, these persistent things are intended to point our affections and hopes toward New Heavens and New Earth, where moth and rust and time and all other corrosive forces have been permanently barred from touching the Lord's Beloved or anything that is theirs by virtue of the atonement and a new birthright.  What peace to know that we stand in the ranks of the redeemed, the unworthy ones elevated to sons and daughters of the Holy King of Righteousness and lifted above the power of the curse!  Therefore, instead of the thorn, we may enjoy the myrtle and the cypress, and trade all empty, temporary substitutes for bread and wine and living water that truly satisfy. 

Maranatha!

10 May 2024

12 "church-goer" tropes


Throw a stone just about anywhere in America and you might hit a church.  Even for those raised outside of church culture, Judeo-Christian ethics and norms are well documented, and the average American may even be able to differentiate some of the theological particulars between denominations.  This makes sense, since only 28% of American citizens report being religious "nones" -- that is, those who hold an atheistic / agnostic perspective and lifestyle with no religious affinity whatsoever (stat per Pew Research).  However, if the 72% remainder do identify with a particular religion, that's a lot of people who at some stage have gone or are currently going to church.  This data begs a lot of questions.  For me, I'm particularly curious in knowing why people go to church, and how they define what "church" actually is.  What is it they are looking to accomplish by attending?  What are the practices of those counted in that 72% who consider themselves "spiritual" but not "religious" (i.e. believing in God, praying, etc, but not actively practicing their faith as part of a group)?

Ecclesiology (i.e. how to understand and define "church") is a rich and nuanced topic.  Most Christian schools of thought will agree that "church" is less a place than a community -- the people of God gathered, as opposed to the four walls in which they congregate.  However, all sorts of commercial Western notions have introduced subtle variations to this definition, such as viewing the church more as a 501(c)3 non-profit; as a group of majority voters ("shareholders") governed by a board of directors; as a thing legally quantifiable by its financial holdings, monthly giving totals, and number of available pews.

Depending on which view of "church" is held, I've found that church-goers more or less fall into 12 general types of church-goer.  I'm obviously coming at this from a Protestant's lens, though these definitely will find parallels in Catholicism and Judaism.  There are obviously too many nuances to capture all prototypes, so I've opted to focus on four areas commonly associated with religious observance: 1) attendance, 2)  official membership, 3) serving, and 4) giving.

Before diving in, here are a few contextual notes and definitions for those 4 qualifiers.

1. Attendance.  A 2022 survey found that only about a fifth of Americans attended church or synagogue on a weekly basis (per statista.com).  I've found it to be the case that even those who are officially registered members of their churches only average twice a month Sunday morning attendance.  Since most churches offer midweek services, programs, and other gatherings, the once a week stat probably still holds true for the average congregation.

2. Official membership.  Each church operates under a different philosophy for membership.  Many Protestant churches eschew the concept altogether, since all believers are members of the universal Body of Christ by virtue of faith in Him.  Other churches insist on membership as an arbitrary mechanism that comes along with tithing (giving).  Others still utilize it as a process as a teaching and protection mechanism for their congregations.  In the tropes below, I've mostly assumed official membership as a volitional commitment on the part of the church-goer.

3. Serving. This is the act of volunteering time, skills, and resources to the ministries of the church.  Those church-goers who are especially committed to these things might also be asked to serve in an official capacity as church deacon or elder.

4. Giving.  Commonly called "tithing," this for many churches is the sign of official commitment to the local body, and may be the act on which official membership hangs.  Many of the 72% of Americans who identify as religious practice tithing without actually attending their church.

Onto my tropes.  Are you in this list?  Am I?  Maybe even twice?

  1. The “Creaster” -- This first one is obligatory and obviously not original to me.  Regardless, this church attender is the one who only darkens the doors of their church on the major holidays and for special life events (family baptisms, funerals, holiday services, etc).  They probably still consider the local church they visit "their" church and may even be an official member there.  They possibly support this church by giving, likely in larger but infrequent amounts.
  2. The Streamer -- This church "attender" type originated in the mid 2010s with the advent of streaming technology, but which truly began to flourish in the Covid era.  This church "goer" rarely to never sets foot physically inside a church building, but probably considers the church whose services they view "their" church.  They possibly support this church financially and may even be an official member (from the time back before they stopped physically participating).
  3. The Jetter -- This church attender participates in services at their local church, but keeps interactions with other members of that church to a minimum -- beyond "hello" and "goodbye" in the parking lot, or brief conversation with the small circle of friends with whom they tend to sit.  This individual likely considers the church they attend "their" church and may even be an official member. They likely support this church through giving and consider that financial support their due input, as opposed to serving.
  4. The Hopper -- This church-goer attends church regularly, but in many different local church communities, either chasing interesting sermon topics or avoiding the ones that might get too personal.  They show up for a time with one local church gathering, then disappear to another, never setting down roots anywhere.  This individual likely gives and serves in the same manner, as they feel compelled, wherever they happen to be currently attending, but finds it impossible to become an official, committed member anywhere.
  5. The “Common Law” Member -- This church-goer has been faithfully attending, giving, and serving at the same home church for years but has never gone through any official membership channels, likely a) because they were burned in the past by a previous church family, or b) because they insist on a chapter/verse prooftext for membership practices.  They claim that higher membership to the Universal Body of Christ and demand (when asked) to know what privileges they don't already possess (or what responsibilities they aren't already fulfilling) that becoming a member would grant them.
  6. The Emergent Hippie -- This church-goer likely doesn't have a church they consider home, because they "follow Jesus," aren't really into "organized religion," and take issue with the way the whole 501(c)3 thing originated anyway.  They don't participate in giving, abhor membership, and don't pay attention to any church's programs or serving opportunities.  Like the "Common Law" Member, this individual may have also witnessed the ugliness of church politics or endured a church split, and now differentiates him/herself by considering him/herself "liberated" from church.  They may frequent various local bodies, but more likely worships God on hikes or in coffee houses and considers the homeless community they serve on Sunday mornings "their church."  This individual is almost certainly an outspoken evangelist in the wild.
  7. The Self-Flagellant -- This church-goer is involved in everything, all the time: if the doors of the church facility are unlocked, they're present (and if they happen to be elderly and/or retired, they are likely on-campus 15+ minutes early).  Serving is just what they do.  Their commitment to be so heavily involved may be in lieu of giving (because they believe they can't afford to contribute), or they may consider every available cent they have to be the property of the church.  They are almost certainly an official member.  Because of these patterns, they likely have a poor theology of rest and often seem frazzled at their normal post.
  8. The Suit and Tie -- This regular attender, giver, and probable member is punctual and upbeat and always "blessed," refusing to acknowledge the existence of any hardship or burden even if it is public knowledge.  They serve often and may frequently cross paths with the Self-Flagellant, but whereas the former may be willing to give voice to their challenges, the Suit and Tie would rather seek spiritual help outside of their church (if at all), to avoid the discomfort of being vulnerable.
  9. The Clan Member -- Every church (it seems) has that one last name that dominates the church directory (oftentimes, by sheer coincidence, it just so happens to also be the last name of one of the pastors, go figure).  This individual attends the same church with their parents, siblings, cousins, and more; if one family decides its time to pack up and leave, the rest will follow.  The Clan Member likely checks all the boxes of attending, serving, and giving, because the rest of the clan will give them grief if the norms are not observed.
  10. The Sunday-to-Sunday -- This individual can't miss a Sunday gathering because each time is like a new salvation experience after the steady emotional and spiritual desert of the regular work week.  This individual is a member almost without fail, likely checks the tithing box, but only serves if there are weektime ministry opportunities, because they could never bear to miss being present for the worship service.
  11. The Weektimer -- The opposite of the Sunday-to-Sunday, this individual is never present on a Sunday morning, but never misses midweek Bible study and may even be engaged in one of their church's connection groups.  Because they are never present with the whole church family, they may give occasionally out of a sense of guilt; however, due to work obligations or lifestyle, they consider themselves never available to serve and postpone official membership indefinitely for a time when their patterns have changed.
  12. The Influencer -- This individual is a part-time attendee and part-time livestream-viewer, but they will always find some way to share their opinions about all things good, bad, and ugly.  Their propensity to be vocal about the way things should or shouldn't be only goes up the more committed they are to giving.  Likely, this individual serves only in one-off kinds of capacities, because they find it hard to follow the instructions of a team leader, and are annoyed by the inability of fellow team members to do things the right way.

Amusing?  Or too close to home?  Are there tropes I missed that you've seen far too regularly?  What does a “perfect” church-goer look like, anyway?  Is there an ideal persona in the above list that we should be aiming for?

I write this post not just to poke fun.  I think there are several things each of us "church-goers" needs to do, especially if we take our faith seriously.

First, we need to evaluate how we view church.  Is it an arbitrary or familial responsibility?  Is it a place to go to keep me out of trouble?  Is it a place to grow and to serve?  Is it a more wholesome form of entertainment, and if so, can't I just safely consume that from behind a screen?  Is it a place to rack up community service hours?  Is it place for refreshment and spiritual nourishment?  Is it a commitment to something outside of myself?  Is it on specific gathering of believers, or a timeless, universal entity encompassing all believers everywhere?  Is it an identity, a community with which I am spiritually and corporately joined by virtue of my personal union with that body's Head, which is Christ?

The definition on which I land provides me with a bit of a vision statement, impacting and guiding all of my religious priorities and practices.  Where we find ourselves on the spectrum of ecclesiology likely dictates our sense of responsibility to the body, the importance it takes in our lives, and whether we come to it primarily as consumers or as contributors, constituents or benefactors.

When was the last time you tried to answer some of those questions above?

Second, when it comes to church practices, we need to be in a state of continual growth.  Whether we admit it or not, we all hate change.  Even those who claim to want to change things up all the time only want to do that by their moderation and approval.  So we all secretly (or not so secretly) want a church that doesn't ask too much, where we can sneak in and out when we don't want to be noticed, and that caters to our preferences.  But existing perpetually at that kind of equilibrium is the equivalent of spiritual stagnation.  Growth is a lifelong process of maturation.  Whether we are actively investing in our growth or not, we are always learning -- sometimes we are learning bad habits that harden our hearts and hone our practices in such a way that we become increasingly resistant to being moved in the future.  All of this means we need to be in the business of regular self-evaluation.  What is my current relationship to God and how is He calling me to go deeper?  What are my current church-going practices?  What needs to change?

For some, a period of intentional rest is critical, but not indefinite.  For others, a greater financial commitment to the local body that is ministering to them is the important next step.  For others still, getting out of the pew or off of the couch to be truly relational with their local body is not only necessary, but critical and life-giving.  Christian fellowship is not merely sharing a potluck meal on occasion.  Rather, it is living out our faith in community with other like-minded believers who will altogether sharpen one another by asking good questions and bear up under each other's burdens together when the going gets tough.

We need to combat our tendency to drift into perfunctory religiousness that makes us feel good about ourselves.  Ironically enough (as far as this post is concerned), the church attendance calendar, official membership, the tithing box, and the serving regimen are NOT the most effective metric for evaluating the quality of our spiritual lives.  In fact, those things by themselves profit nothing for eternity.  Their emphasis in an individual's life reveals one of two things: either a) a rich appreciation for the gospel, or b) the general human tendency to assume a works-based model for eternal security.  Religion that is truly effective does things, absolutely, but it originates from legitimate, heart-changing faith (see James 1 and 2).  Salvation is a work of God, not of our piety or innate goodness (see Ephesians 2).  Robust works must follow robust grace!  Religiousness might be good in many ways for society, but in and of itself has no power to grant any practitioner entrance to heaven.  Therefore, if we are merely appeasing our sense of guilt, keeping face with other church-goers, or just carrying out our parents' wishes, we are truly missing out.  Our salvation is for the joint purpose of knowing God intimately, celebrating His greatness, being transformed to be more like Him... and in so doing, also becoming more effective ministers to others.

So let's keep going to church, but let's not do it out of guilt or habit.

Let's go so we can be reminded weekly about the truth of the gospel, the power of the Scriptures, and the ongoing work of the Spirit within the lives of true believers.

Let's go and be fully present and vulnerable so we can increase our sense of interdependence within the community of faith.

Let's go and be fully committed to doing all the things that mark effective religion, because we've been rescued by a Savior who eternally committed Himself to us.

Let's go, but without a consumer mindset that assumes church is primarily about the spiritual ideas I receive and more about an opportunity to grow in my faith while I also contribute to helping others grow in theirs.

And frankly, let's go to a new church and put down roots there instead if the values expressed above are just not present in your current faith community.