Is the church dying?

“I’m leading a worship and music group,” she said.

“Really? I didn’t see you as the type to attend a church,” I said, referring to the slightly unconventional way she has explored her faith since becoming a Christian.  “Where are you going?”

“Oh, I’m not going to a church,” she replied. “Me and some members of my support group started getting together once a week.  We sing hymns and songs, and devote some time to quiet prayer.  You know…”, as she hesitated for a moment, “…it just seems more like church than…church. You know?”

“Where two or more are gathered together in my name…” I affirmed, while nodding silently.

“I wanted to go back to that church,” she began again, after a moment of silence.  “I even thought about singing there…”

“You always had a great singing voice,” I interjected.

“…but not after what they did to you,” she finished.  She paused for a moment, as she searched for the right words. “I miss the preacher, and I miss the worship part of the service, but there’s something missing there, and I don’t like it.”

Even though she couldn’t find the words, I knew what she meant.  The “thing” she couldn’t name is missing in many churches today, and it’s the single biggest reason the church is dying.

The sleeping sickness

Christian literature, music, and preaching is a thriving cottage industry these days.

Every Sunday (and certain select weeknights), it’s always the same: the masses tune-in to their favorite church service, Bible study, Christian author, television-celebrity preacher, etc; listening to the latest message for elevation of soul and feelings of spiritual ecstasy.  By exhorting others to listen, they become a viral word-of-mouth marketing campaign, and the cottage industry thrives.  For those needing a more frequent fix, our information-addicted culture obliges, since every lesson, every kernel of knowledge, and every pearl of wisdom is just a few mouse clicks away.

With such a worldwide society of churchgoers and Christian faithful going to and fro in search of knowledge,  you would think that heaven-on-earth is right around the corner.  Surely, with so many listening to the Word, there should be an explosion of evangelism, discipleship, charitable works, and community outreach, right?

And yet, only the weeds continue to multiply and grow…

Blessed are the peacemakers

“Dude, puff-puff-GIVE!”

Steve awakens from his stupor.  “Sorry, bro, I was spacing,” he says with an embarrassed grin.  He holds out the pipe to me.

“What, I gotta go over there and get it?!” I ask in mock insult.

“You think I’m getting up and going over there?” he replies, his grin widening ridiculously.  “Bro, I am way too stoned to move!”

“What if I’m too stoned to get it?” I ask

“Then I guess you ain’t getting any…”, he trails off, as he pulls the pipe back in, pretending to light it again.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say as I drag my butt out of my chair.  Snatching the pipe out of his hand, I look at him for a moment and shake my head, continuing my mock disgust.  “F**king stoner,” I say.  We laugh uproariously at this, more because of our wasted state than any inherent humor.

As I put the flame to the greenery in the pipe bowl, Steve nods towards me and says, “We should probably lay off.  We’re almost out.”

I snap the lighter closed and pull my lips away from the mouthpiece.  “Dude, don’t worry,” I say through held breath.  “Jack’s coming with more,” I manage to choke out while still holding my breath, referring to my roommate.  When I can hold it no longer, I blow a plume of smoke into the room and proceed to hack up a lung, making Steve grin again. As I hand the pipe back to him, I grab the front of his shirt and quote one of my favorite movie lines.

“SMOKE UP JOHNNY!”

Steve grins while trying to make a serious face.  “You touch me with that hand again and I’ll break it off.”

The worries of this life

Boxes?  Check.  Clothes?  Check.  Dishes never came out of their boxes, so that’s a check.  Let’s see, what else…

It’s moving day.  As I gather my meager possessions, I contemplate how fast life changes.  One moment, you’re working at a job while settled in a new place, and enjoying a new romantic interest.  The next, you’ve lost the job, the romantic interest is gone, and you’re relocating to a new city.  For many, if this were to happen in the course of just a few months, it would be dramatic and upsetting. 

For me, it happened in the course of just two weeks.

Am I scared?  A little.  Am I worried?  Not a bit.  Yes, change is exciting and intimidating.  But I’m not worried, for I know something, a little secret that keeps me smiling…

The science behind pre-marital sex

Image by Nottingham Vet School via Flickr

Time to delve deeper…

So why did it hurt so bad?  This was another question that occurred to me as I unpacked the lessons learned from this broken love affair.  After all, it wasn’t like we were together for a long time.  Maybe you’ve seen it, or experienced it: a new relationship, with barely formed roots, that is suddenly discarded, leaving one of the participants far more broken-hearted than something so short-term deserves.  As anybody involved in both short and long-term relationship will tell you, although having one’s hopes and dreams suddenly dashed without warning is painful, it is far worse when you add history and time.

As it turns out, there is an ancient teaching which explains why such short-term relationships can still hurt so terribly.  It’s a teaching scoffed at in today’s culture, but proving to be more wise than anybody knew.  The proof is not found in the vaulted ceilings of the church; it is found in scientific discovery.