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...

The "no, yeahs" and the "yeah, nos" of modern communication

Tara and I were recently laughing with some friends about a strange phenomenon that exists in American conversations.  There are plenty, of course, but I'm talking specifically about the "Yeah, no," "No, yeah" thing that we all unconsciously do when we're conversing.

No, it's not just Californians or Miami natives as the memes suggest.  It's all of us.

On one hand, this is an amusing artifact of speech, much like the "ums" or the "you knows" that proliferate within our conversations (though grammarians might twitch a little bit when we hear other people speaking this way, or realize that we ourselves are doing it!).  To some degree, these habits are just sentence filler.  We don't know what to say, so we say something to keep the conversation from lapsing into awkward breaks of silence while we connect thoughts together.

On the other hand, I think there's something fascinatingly complex about this "nervous tick" of language that we all employ.  It has everything to do with a zealous and ingrained sensitivity to the ways we relate to others.

"Yeah...  No."

TRANSLATION: The answer is no, but I understand where you're coming from and affirm that perspective as a logical, reasoned, and perfectly appropriate way to think.  I in no way intend to convey, by my opposite perspective, that you are in any way to doubt your own position or feel insecure in holding that perspective.  However, I am going to present my alternate point of view.

"No, yeah!"

TRANSLATION: The answer is yes, but let me begin by diffusing any possibility that you might think I disapprove of or disagree with your opinion, which you are perfectly entitled to hold.  I in no way want to misconstrue your original idea or present it as something negative or inferior to my own.  The fact that I am about to supplement your idea with my own thought should not in any way be taken as an argument.

Doesn't that sound like legal jargon to you -- the fine print at the bottom of a bill of sale, or the preface to your tax return agreement?  Ironically, while we are saying a whole lot with very little, we're also doing exactly what all legal documentation does: expressing a simple idea in complex and nuanced language to prevent all possibility of the message being misrepresented.

And in doing so, we of course make it far more confusing than it needs to be.

Americans are in the business of affirming and apologizing.  Even if we are going to unabashedly speak our minds, we're still -- at least in word -- "letting the other guy down easy."  You and I are products of a culture that thinks with the heart it brazenly wears on its sleeve, yet dresses in incredibly thin skin.  We sense the danger in our balancing act of fitting in with our society yet standing out in some way -- a practice amplified to such degrees by the modern, social media lifestyle that it is far easier to retreat to the safety of a 5-inch screen for "real" interaction than it is to hold face-to-face conversation.  We are unabashedly who we are on Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat, but when it comes to in-person interaction, we timorously distance ourselves from the possibility of conflict.

"No, yeah"/"Yeah, no" is pacifying language.  It's verbally tiptoeing around the feelings and sensibilities of others.

I think we've reached a point in our tolerance-based culture where we are in a constant apologetic state.  We apologize for asserting ourselves, for taking our turns, for expressing our opinions.  We are terrified of being seen as bigots when it comes to our religious and social views, and so we are incapable of even disagreeing on sandwich preferences without being neurotically apologetic.

That said, I'm still torn on whether or not to label the mentality behind this as completely negative, because I think it's of the utmost importance for us to know how to be sensitive and thoughtful toward other human beings.  There's no point for Christians to argue the sanctity of life from the Bible if we are just going to treat one another like garbage.  Maybe this quirky habit of language can help communicate our underlying concern for other people's sensitivity.

After all, Paul's epistles are chock full of commentary on the ways in which Christians are to go out of their way to be kind and edifying (Eph 4.29; Col 4.6); to live in harmony with believer and non-believer alike, despite the inevitable differences of opinion that arise between all human beings (Rom 12.18); and to surrender our own preferences on peripheral issues in order to preserve unity within the body of Christ (Rom 14.13; 1 Cor 8.13).  If it's truly important from a Biblical standpoint to prioritize the needs of others (John 13.34; Phil 2.4), then gentle, nuanced, and understanding communication with others is key.

Here's my concern, however.  All believers still need to prioritize integrity and honesty, speaking unabashed truth tempered with loving compassion (Eph 4.15; Titus 2.8).  Just because the world in which we live doesn't want to hear our message doesn't mean we should swallow it and keep it to ourselves.  We certainly shouldn't be characterized by arrogant, in-your-face condemnation.  But we also shouldn't be characterized by the kind of hesitancy that is born out of fearing to challenge others' perspectives.

Affirmations and apologies (in this context) are petty and largely self-interested.

"No, yeah" -- TRANSLATION: I affirm you so you, in turn, will affirm me.

"Yeah, no" -- TRANSLATION: I affirm you so you don't get angry with me for saying what I really think.

In other words, let's avoid conflict at all cost and just give each other shots of validation.  Let's bring the "live and let live" philosophy of tolerance to its only logical conclusion: isolationism, because tolerance can really only result in uniformity, and uniformity -- while equalizing -- is deeply alienating.  The only other alternative is to crush others' individuality with our own and even more dramatically expose the inherent paradox in the coexist philosophy: insisting on my right to think and speak a certain way when it conflicts with another individual's right to think another way means I'm just as intolerant as I claim the other guy is.  Rather than reveal this structural flaw, we hunker down behind barricades of disarming language, affirming and apologizing so none of the landmines ever go off.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life ducking disagreements in everyday conversation.  I intend to be a peacemaker, sure -- whether speaking in-person or commenting back on Facebook.  But being a peacemaker and being a pacifist are two entirely different things.  I want to speak truth boldly to my neighbor, communicating from my heart with kindness and concern, yet seeking even in disagreement to be respectful and understanding and non-confrontational.

So am I using "No, yeah"/"Yeah, no" in my speech because I'm attempting to be considerate, or am I just being a conversational pacifist?    Being conscious of the habitual ways in which we speak to others, and intentionally working toward communicating with clear purpose, can only improve our ability to relate to those around us as we communicate the vital gospel of Jesus Christ to lost and needy people.