I got a photo from a friend of mine, Myles Bristowe.  Myles sent me the photo and asked if I’d blog my response to it.  If you’ve been paying attention, you remember Myles from a previous blog post.  Myles sent me this photo as a type of offshoot of a conversation we’ve been having about the Church.  You can see that conversation in the comment section of this post.

Here’s the photo he sent me.  Take a good look at it and then I’ll tell you what I think of it.

First of all, its true.  I can’t argue the fact that technically speaking, there will be all of these kinds of people (listed on the sign) that will indeed be in hell.  It’s not pleasant to think about, but its nonetheless true.

But please don’t stop reading here and not let me add my own labels to the list:

Accountants, Teachers, Nurses, Consultants, Software Programmers, Marketing Specialists, Exterminators, Car salesmen, Insurance underwriters, Authors, Pastors, Construction workers, Gas station attendants, Cashiers…you get the idea.

But here’s where this particular church makes its fatal error: They seem to be saying that its THESE people who will go to hell because they have THESE labels.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.  This simply couldn’t be more disastrously wrong than it is.  And it breaks the heart of God for those who represent Him to do so in such a way that makes Him seem like the kind of God who would say, “Welcome to heav—-oh, wait—is that a skateboard under your arm?!? Well then, in that case:  Depart from Me, I never knew you were one of THOSE people.”

Those who inhabit hell will be those who do not receive the free grace gift of forgiveness that only Jesus has the right to give.  THAT’S who will be in hell.  And believe me, I know how unpopular that message is, but simply because a message is unpopular, doesn’t mean its not true.

Also, whoever put this sign up needs to get a better grasp on the word “repent”.  Of course, our response to the message of the Gospel has repentance as a critical piece, but it must come from a heart of brokenness, not from responding to a proverbial gun to your head.  I have a handful of really close friends.  None of those friendships started when I pulled out a handgun, pointed it at them, and said, “We’re gonna be friends aren’t we?  AREN’T WE???”

Of course repentance is necessary. I’ve read the Bible and I understand that.  But in my opinion this sign puts this local church on the same level as the Westboro kooks who tote their “God Hates Fags” signs and who protest at the funerals of fallen soldiers (the same soldiers who died defending their freedom to protest at their funerals).

My conversation with Myles centered around the importance and role of the Church.  The Church is the people of God, surrendered to Him, following Jesus, giving grace as freely as they’ve received it, and following the commands of God in the power of His Holy Spirit.  When we say “church” we often think “church service” and I’ve seen plenty of church services that quite honestly need to be tied to the nearest tree and have a bullet put in their head because they are neither drawing people to Christ nor are they “equipping the saints for the work of service.” (Eph. 4:12)  Believe me, I know “church people” can be condescending, judgmental, bigoted, and hypocritical to name a few adjectives.  And so can atheists, Roman Catholics, Buddhists, mechanics, alcoholics, and Muslims.  Its the human condition to be flawed, and a common mistake non-Christians make is to expect Christians to be perfect.  Trust me–I KNOW better than you how imperfect I am. I’m flawed, broken, messed up, and prone to sin.  I do not ever want to perpetuate the farce that I’ve got anything together.

But that’s the glory of the cross.  I, you, we, ANYONE can go to foot of the cross of Christ and find forgiveness, full and free.  There is NO ONE outside the reach of God’s gracious redemption of mankind.  Many will turn from that offer for a myriad of reasons, but not one of them is a good reason.  Many will point their finger at flawed “Christians” and say, “If that’s what God does, I’ll take my chances on my own.”  Many will consider their sin so deep, so encompassing that there simply isn’t anyway out.  Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

As much as I hate this church sign and the completely inaccurate perception of God it perpetuates, I hate even more to think that people will see it and decide that it accurately represents the God of the Bible, His love, His Son, His Church, and their mission.

So, what do you think?  I’d love to hear your thoughts and I’d even love to hear/see other church signs that leave you scratching and shaking your head.

Here’s a well-known Bible verse you’ve likely heard.  It was spoken from Jesus to Peter and Andrew by the Sea of Galilee:

“Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.”  (Matthew 4:19)

Did you catch that? It’s subtle so maybe you didn’t notice.  If you squint, you’ll see it.  It’s between “Follow” and “Me”.  It’s the fine print.  Its the “catch”.  And in this verse, it’s saying: “You’re going to end up martyred. That means killed for following Me.  Dead.”

A few nights ago as I met with my not-so-small small group of high school students, one of them asked if he could share something that’s been on his heart.  I said “Sure.”  So, a few minutes after getting our Bible study underway, I turned it over the him.  For the next several minutes, he shared from his heart what God has been teaching him recently.  It couldn’t have been more transparent, authentic, and piercing than it was.  To summarize, he wanted to make sure everyone knew and understood that to follow Jesus isn’t all that we as Christians (especially American Christians) sometimes make it out to be.  Often times, we dress it up in an effort to make being a disciple more palatable.  We soften it and water it down.  He talked about the proverbial “contract” that we signed when we committed our lives to Christ.  The problem is, it looks like many of us didn’t really understand what we were getting into.

But let’s never forget: Following Jesus is a matter of welcoming death. Are you willing to die?

*Its not so much “fine print” as it is faded print.  Over the years, we have forsaken and even forgotten that in order to receive the life Jesus offers we must “take up our cross” and follow Him (Luke 9:23).  But we’ve translated it as “hang a cross from your rear view mirror, ‘cuz that’s good enough” to follow Him.

I fear hearing Jesus say upon His return, “That’s not what I meant.”

All throughout His earthly ministry, Jesus shook people up with statements that seemed outlandish and radical.  He seemingly turned His back on His own family, He promised problems when we follow Him, and He said His followers would be hated and put to death for following Him.  He essentially told His boys: If you ain’t got a sword, sell some stuff and buy one, ‘cuz it’s about to go down (Luke 22:36).  What happened to the meek Jesus? What happened to the Swedish, fair-skinned, gorgeous-lipped man we’re so comfortable with?  What happened to the afternoon tea party Jesus that doesn’t expect much of those who come along?  What happened to the Jesus I love so much because He agrees with me?

For many of us, I don’t think the Jesus we’ve imagined or the Jesus we think we’re following ever existed.  The true Jesus is a powerhouse of passion for the mission of finding and saving lost souls.  The Jesus that sits today on heaven’s throne is a God bent on the utter annihilation of sin, and total redemption of creation.  He’s already destroyed sin’s power, and will soon destroy any trace of it ever existing.  And He’ll do it all with one single word.  The Jesus that walked the earth some 2,000 years ago didn’t and still doesn’t accept part-time applicants.

As we enter into this most holy of weekends–the 3 days that changed EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE FOR EVERYONE, let’s not be confused on who is calling us into the revolutionary love affair with Him and with His Kingdom.

I’ve heard it said that “there’s a God-shaped hole in all of us”.  Maybe that’s true.  Not sure what shape that might be, but from what I’ve seen after living 38 years–oops, I mean 25 years–on the planet, and talking to lots of people, I’ve found something else to be even more true than the whole “God-hole theory”.

People want answers.

There are 3 questions that every human being wants answers to.  And by the way, you can ask any of these questions in a non-spiritual, non-religious, non-threatening way to anyone.  Of course as with anything, the better acquainted you are with the person, the more natural the conversation will likely go.

1. Where do you think we came from?

This question addresses our origin.  And while most people believe in a “higher power”, few people are sure of who/what he/she/it is.

2. What do you think is the purpose of our lives on earth?

Prediction: Most people will answer with something along the lines of: “To be good to others, to do more good than bad, to be happy, to leave the world a better place, etc.”  All nice things.  No wonder we can agree on them.

3. What do you think happens when you die?

Statistically speaking, most people believe in an afterlife but aren’t confident at all as to the details of what it is, where it is, or how to get in to any generic “heaven” that probably exists.  Again, the majority of people you ask will likely think they’re going to heaven based on their good outweighing their bad.

These are all great questions, aren’t they?  No wonder people want answers.  And I’d submit that the trajectory of our lives hinge on our answers to each of them.  The way we view ourselves, our world, and those around us are hinged on our direct or indirect answers to these questions.

What’s another question you think most/all people want an answer to?

When I was in elementary school, middle school, and high school I (and maybe you too) endured the “Presidential Physical Fitness Award” testing.  To this day, I don’t think the results to those tests get anywhere near the White House.  I don’t think Mr. President ever pours over the results and decides who gets recognized and who gets wedgied.  I always silently thought it was some scam, created by gym teachers who don’t have anything else planned because…well…they’re gym teachers.

No offense to all the gym teachers out there–oops–I mean Physical Education Specialists out there, but my high school gym teacher was the biggest pot head in the school.

Every year in high school, there was the long trek from our gymnasium to the workout room on the other side of the building.  The air in the workout room was thick with the stale aroma of football player funk.  Poorly ventilated, poorly lit, and I’m sure a hotbed of juicing, we went in there once a year for one purpose: the pull-up test.  I hated the pull-up test.  My personal best was 8.  That’s right.  8.  I was always jealous of the girl version because all they had to do was hang there.  With my pronounced jawbone, I could have done that all day with no hands.  Yep, pull-ups were my nemesis and the glaring light that shone on my physical weakness for all to see.  But here’s the thing about the pull-up bar: The only way to do more pull-ups is to do more pull-ups.

Today I’m grabbing the pull-up bar of blog writing and for better or worse, I’m giving it a go.  Right here, right now (I’m nearly shaking while typing this), I’m going to blog regularly.  (I wrote and deleted the word “daily” 4 times.)  Why do I want to increase production on my blog writing, you ask?  Here’s why:

1. I’m inspired.  My friend and yours, Myles Bristowe started a new venture just today.  He’s committed to blogging about marketing (his field of expertise) everyday.  His muse? A fortune cookie he’ll crack open every morning, read, and somehow connect to the world of marketing.  Brilliant idea.

2. More and more, I want this writing thing to go somewhere.  Lots of people have asked me if I’ve written any books, and the simple answer is “no.”  I’ve been told that I should and that’s really nice, but as Jon Acuff puts it, “Writing a book is like a marathon, and blogging is like training.”  So, if I’d like to one day have a book out there, I’d better get intent on training, right?

3. Finally, I enjoy writing more than I enjoy doing most things.  I don’t know why and I’m not ready to psychoanalyze myself to figure it out.  Just do me a favor, okay?  Tell me if I shouldn’t be doing this.  I’ve sat in way too many church services listening to someone sing because they “love to sing”.  They should have first conferred with those of us who have to hear them sing.

So there.  In a non-committed, committal kind of way, I’m saying that I’m taking it up a notch.  It won’t always be perfect, it won’t be always polished, but it will always be flowing.

The way our office is set up, if you call the church phone number, you get Dee who is the best phone answerer on God’s green earth.  I’m not kidding.  This lady was born to answer the phone.  Not only is she a veritable abyss of useful information, but I defy you to talk to her for 3 seconds without sensing her smile on the other end of the line.  No joke.  Dee rocks.

If Dee steps away from her desk, the incoming call gets rolled over to someone else’s desk.  If that person isn’t there, the call goes to another person’s desk (Both desks have a specific person at them, but I’m not telling you who they are.  Move on.)  After that, apparently the call just goes up for grabs and flies to the nearest extension.  In this case: mine.

My desk phone rings. I see an unfamiliar number on the screen.  No name.  I pick up the phone and give my standard, “Hello, this is Jerry.”  

“Um….Yes…..Umm….is this a pastor?” the voice asked. (Imagine a voice crossed between Slingblade and Forrest Gump)

I reply with confidence, “Yes, I’m a pastor.”

“Um…yes…hello. I’m wondering what time your church service is.”

“Well, we have a Saturday night service at 6, then 2 more services on Sunday at 9 and 11 a.m.”

“Um…yes…I’d like to come there and I’d like to come to a service.”

“Wonderful! You’re always welcome.”

“Um…yes…thank you. You see, I have an interview at Philip Morris this week and I’d like somebody to pray for me.”

Pastorally I answer, “I’d be happy to pray for you about that.”

Another voice bursts in.  This time, its a woman’s voice.  (This voice crossed between Pearl from 227 and a pitbull.)

“Um, yes. Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m Jerry. I was just talking to a gentleman about praying for an interview he has this week at Philip Morris.”

“He told you what?!?  Look. He’s sick.  He’s been throwing up 3 times already today.  Look, we out here at a motel and we ain’t got nothing and they ’bout to put us out.  We can’t get bus fare and we can’t even get nobody to give us a dollar fifty for bus fare so we can get on out of here.  We’re not from here and there’s a Red Roof Inn across the street and we need somebody to come out here and just put us up over there ‘cuz over there is 47 a night and we just need somebody to help us out.  We ain’t eaten for 2 days and I’m not even lying about that. I don’t have to lie.  That’s the truth. We had to share a McDonald’s double cheeseburger and we can’t even get bus fare now.  And we need somebody to come out there and give us bus fare so we can get out of here. And we need you to come and maybe get us something to eat and maybe put us up over at that Red Roof Inn for a couple nights or more.  Cain’t you come and do that?  We been on the phone since 8 o’clock this morning here in this lobby and they ain’t going to put up with us being here much longer. We ain’t from around here and we need somebody to come and get us bus fare, get us something to eat, and put us up for a few nights at the Red Roof Inn across the street cuz its 47 a night over there…..you postuh be doing the Lord’s work, ain’t you?”

And there it was.  The guilt card.  She slapped that card down on the table with a scowl on her face I could hear through the phone.

And in that moment, I could feel the weight rest down upon my chest.  It was the weight of guilt that had been shifted from this woman’s dire situation (alleged) onto me; brought on by the indictment: “You’re supposed to be doing the Lord’s work, ain’t you?”

My answer to that question?  Absolutely.  

But friends, guilt is the devil’s work.  Never mistake guilt for the Spirit’s leading.  The Spirit brings life, freedom, and joy—not one of which was present in that phone conversation.  The devil brings guilt, shame, and shackles.  Now, I’m not talking my way out of not driving a half an hour to give this woman $1.50, $3, money for a meal or two, or a few nights at the Red Roof Inn.  But when I got off that phone, I did what I could do for them–in fact, I did the BEST thing I could do for them.

Has guilt been at work in your life?  Have you found its crushing weight resting on your chest lately?

There’s no mistake then where it came from.  Turn to the One strong enough to lift from you the heaviest of weights that the enemy can seek to shackle you with.  And in the deepest sense of conviction, hope, peace, and joy celebrate the freedom to do “the Lord’s work” the Lord’s way!

I’m in the middle of my day and the turntable needle of my brain is stuck in the groove that goes: “Gottawritegottawritegottawritegottawritegottawrite…”  So, here’s something I’ve been thinking about lately.  This will be quick, so read it quick and then comment quick…

I’ve been in fulltime ministry for well over a decade and a half, and I’ve noticed that most people have one of three views of the purpose of the Church.  Two of them make sense at least on some level.

The Church is like a treehouse:

This is where the club members meet.  It’s elevated, it’s away from “them”, and it’s just for “us”.  We hang a sign on the door that says “No girls allowed” but depending on the church,  it looks more like “No messy people allowed”, “No problems allowed”, “No loud music allowed”, “No flip-flops allowed”, “No riff-raff allowed”.  Basically, the treehouse is our protection from the outside world. It’s our haven, our safe place, our treehouse.  We’ll be back down soon, but until we do, don’t bother us.

The Church is a lighthouse.

This view sounds right on, but its not entirely so.  The lighthouse is what alerts those in the dark of the dangers hiding in the dark by shining the light on them.  This is the kind of church that reaches out to the lost, while reaching right past the found.  Now, don’t hear me say what I’m not saying. I know that each Christian is ultimately responsible for their own spiritual growth, but the Bible is clear that the pastor is charged to “equip the saints for the work of service.”  That sounds like discipleship should be present, doesn’t it?  But in some churches, “new souls saved” trump “old  souls sanctified” every time.

The Church is a warehouse.

There seem to be even some Christians that neither want to reach out NOR grow up.  Apparently to them, the Church is a warehouse where they can just be stored away until Jesus returns.  Things are dusty, the same they were 50 years ago, and there is no visible sign of life.  This church does what they do because it’s always been what they do.  Change would be welcomed if it didn’t involve changing anything at all.  And that’s what this church is dead set against.  Operative word: dead.

Is there another category?  Is there another “house” we could add?

I had some family in town yesterday.  More specifically: my Dad, my Mom, her sister (Auntie K), and her sister’s husband (Uncle Ed)…(his real name is Earl, but we call him Ed. Long story. But so funny. Another time perhaps.)

I went with my dad and uncle to The Museum of the Confederacy in Richmond, VA.  I’d never been there on purpose, but my dad paid for my ticket, so I was game.  While meandering through the displays of swords, pistols, knee boots and canteens, I couldn’t help but hear a rather loud-talking gentleman several feet behind us.  He was there with another fella to whom he was talking rather loudly.  Did I mention his booming voice?  Now, there’s no stated rule on a metal plaque on the wall, but I think we can all agree that museums are meant to have more of a library-type atmosphere than a monter-truck-rally-type atmosphere.  But alas, somebody forgot to tell Screamy McWaytooloud over there.

But I’m glad he was so loud because he unwittingly created this blog post in my brain.  As he went from glass case to glass case, I heard him sharing his theory with his friend as to why all these confederate soldiers signed up to fight.  Essentially, “it was so bad living back then, they just didn’t have anything else to live for.”  I silently disagreed with him as I continued to peruse blood-stained hankies.

What kind of reason for fighting and dying for something is having nothing better to live for?  If you’ll forgive that last question’s structure, I’d like to actually pull a point from this blog post.  Or die trying.

I can’t imagine a Southerner sipping his mint julip on the back porch when he finally decides he’s so bored of life on the homestead that being run through with a yankee’s bayonette sounded preferable.  I can’t imagine a line of young men enlisting for the Confederate army, discussing how there was “nothing better to do today”, so they decided to give their lives for some vague or flimsy cause.  I can’t imagine that.

No, it was–it HAD to be–something more than that.  It had to be a proud defense.  It had to be a deep sense of honor.  It had to be a steel-spine resolve to stand and fight for what they knew as the blessed life they lived.  It had to be.

Did you know that Jesus’ disciples locked themselves in a room right after his crucifixion?  They were fearful that they were next on the list, and that sooner than later THEY’D be the one’ s hanging on a cross.  After all, their rabbi had gotten it so they’d be next, right?  In short, they didn’t want to die.  A group of men who formerly followed Jesus were now fearing for their lives, undoubtedly asking “I’m gonna die for THIS?!?”

But take a look at what happened to each of these men.  All but one of them carried on in carrying out the Gospel message and over time, one by one were martyred for their unshaking faith in the power of Christ to save.  Not because they didn’t have anything better to do, but because there isn’t anything better to do.  And the last one of them earned himself a nice island exile getaway where he was led by God to write what we know as the simple, cute little book of Revelation.

What can you learn from all this?  What possibly can come from a brief stroll through The Museum of the Confederacy?  Nothing, really.  Nothing but a reminder that I’m not living this life for Christ because I haven’t found anything better to do.  I’m living this life for Christ because based on His love for me, there’s simply no other response that makes any sense.