Counted Worthy of Suffering

 

Many of my brothers and sisters have justified our dubious political alliances as unfortunate “necessities.” “We must use political power,” we say, “to fight the rise of religious persecution so that we can get on with the important business of declaring the Gospel.” But we forget that the Gospel is most powerfully demonstrated in our suffering, through our patient endurance, when we refuse to strike back or avenge ourselves, as we relinquish our rights, and instead say “Father forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing” (“the victory of the cross will be implemented through the means of the cross,” explains N.T. Wright). We can’t accomplish our calling by seeking to evade it, and we can't expect to retaliate against our cultural and political adversaries and then afterwards effectively share with them a message of grace and forgiveness. A Gospel declaration without a clear Gospel demonstration always rings hollow to the hearer.

The current sociopolitical climate is characterized by fear, bitterness, and a reckless quest for vengeance that is dressed as righteous indignation. It has all the polarizing tribal “us” and “them” hallmarks of a genocidal civil war in the making. It seems the American branch of the “royal priesthood” would benefit from a reminder of our calling to be peace-makers, ministers of reconciliation, and faithful ambassadors of his cross and kingdom. Perhaps we could use a hearty refresher on the theology of suffering (what much of our family around the world lives so well). Lest we forget the counterintuitive genius of God, who bested Pilate, Herod, Caesar, and the unseen rulers behind them, disarming and subjecting them all to public shame with a bloodied Galilean who willingly hung naked on a cross (Colossians 2:15). And the ancient world was "turned upside down," not by political prowess or military might, but by the power of his Gospel as beautifully displayed in the blood-soaked Colosseum of Rome where an unstoppable Spirit-filled army of his offspring said in word and deed "I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." We don't seek out suffering, but it will certainly find us (John 15:18-21). And when it does, we mustn't compromise the Gospel which we claim to represent in our efforts to escape (no matter how good our intentions may be). To paraphrase Wright: Our suffering is not an unfortunate side effect of following Christ; it is the primary means by which he conveys his good news to a broken world.

“Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!” - John 12:27-28a

“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” - Mark 8:34b

“The apostles left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name.” - Acts 5:41

“Now I rejoice in what I am suffering for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church. I have become its servant by the commission God gave me to present to you the word of God in its fullness—the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the Lord’s people. To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery,

which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” - Colossians 1:24-27

Don't Shoot the Messenger: The Art of Receiving a Rebuke (From Anyone)

 
 



I've written elsewhere about how difficult it is to receive a rebuke of any kind. Universal human pride often cripples us in this regard, rendering us impervious to many hard truths that we are in some cases desperately needing to hear. Now if we add to our natural resistance to criticism an unwelcome or “unqualified” messenger, we generally get a perfect storm of indignant rage and outright rejection. More often than not we'll dig our heels in, gnash our teeth, and look for the nearest proverbial stones to hurl at our “attacker.” This happened to Stephen, the 1^st Century deacon who dared rebuke the religious establishment (only the stones were real), and it certainly happened to our fearless leader, a formally uneducated, penniless, backwoods, thirty-something, upstart Galilean who had the audacity to not only publicly deconstruct the prevailing cultural, political, and religious narratives but to also promote his own subversive counter-kingdom in their place. Jesus often accomplished this by telling stories, many of which intentionally featured the least likely of messengers (people of other religions, minorities, immigrants, collaborators, racial adversaries, oppressors, and women) to not only expose his audiences' preconceptions and prejudices but to also humble us to the necessary starting point of a gospel-centric, disciple who is finally ready to fall to our knees, beat our chest, and cry out “God, have mercy on me, a sinner!”

God regularly chooses unqualified agents to deliver his rebuke. The ancient kingdoms of Israel and Judah, for example, were overrun by nations that were more wicked than they. Receiving a rebuke from an enemy, or someone we think is “beneath us,” has to be the hardest pill to swallow. An ancient Israelite could reasonably respond to Assyria and Babylon with, “who are you to rebuke us for our idolatry, sexual misconduct, neglect for the poor, materialism, and numerous injustices?!” It would be like receiving a lecture on the destructive nature of lust from none other than Hugh Hefner.

When we're wrong, we're wrong. It doesn't really matter who points it out.

I once saw a conservative meme that said something like, “I don't listen to lectures about gun control from people who kill babies.” The sentiment “I will only receive advice or correction from a source that I deem worthy of my attention” is arrogant and almost certainly guarantees that God will send a messenger of the sort that we would hate to have knocking on our door. I'm certainly not saying that all criticism is true or helpful. Most criticism will be a mixture of truth and distortion. A good friend of mine often says we must “eat the meat, and spit out the bones.” I am reminded of King David’s humility as he was running for his life from his treasonous son Absalom (2 Samuel 16). A man named Shimei, who had obviously been holding a grudge, seized on this opportunity to pelt David with insults and stones as the king fled Jerusalem. David could have responded to Shimei’s attack with an explanation (though David was certainly a murderer and an adulterer, he wasn’t guilty of the false accusations that Shimei was hurling at him) or even retribution, but he instead chose to silently endure it, knowing that God may be using this unqualified messenger to deliver a rebuke. Say what you like about David, the man knew how to take a rebuke. It may take work to sort through criticism that's full of bones, but it is time well spent to hear the voice of God and to be humbly set back in step with his heart. Who will be the next to expose our blind spots, I wonder? Who will God use to shed light on our inconsistencies, the areas of our heart over which he intends to rule unrivaled? I think that largely depends on how “dull of hearing” we have become. Perhaps it will be a Muslim; a transgendered person; an atheist; a grizzly, old, foul-mouthed, racist neighbor; or a pretentious, tatted up, man-bun-wearing, hipster. Will we disregard the rebuke due to our low opinion of the source, or will we earnestly examine ourselves to see where we may be off course?

The multigenerational nature of the Church is truly a blessing from God. We must never be so proud as to reject Godly counsel or a rebuke from a messenger that we have deemed too young or too old to have anything helpful to convey. We are reminded throughout Scripture of the wisdom that often comes with many years and also warned against looking down or disregarding someone because of their youth (knowing that God amuses himself by frequently utilizing the unqualified and ill-equipped). Young and old followers of Christ need each other. The impetuousness of youth is tempered by the prudence of experience, and the stagnation of weathered pragmatism can be reinvigorated with youthful passion and reckless faith.

I have often received invaluable counsel and constructive criticism from older Christ-followers. In the interest of full disclosure, I was born in '81 (which generally makes me a young Gen Xer, but some estimations count me as an old Millennial). It is primarily Boomers (along with saints now deceased, like Towzer and Lewis) who have informed my worldview and led me to an understanding of God. We have benefited greatly from our spiritual mothers and fathers in the faith (from the Silent Generation and Boomers). They have largely made us what we now are. But I believe there are some sweeping generational blind spots that are being manifested throughout the American Church, things that we can no longer ignore, things that younger generations are in a unique position to expose. There are many ways in which the old guard (I'm of course speaking in a very general sense here) has apparently settled into arguably unbiblical trends toward safety, comfort, and pragmatism (at the expense of God's upside down kingdom and unavoidably dangerous agenda). I don't know that the generations have ever been so divided in their approach to local and world politics. The old guard is dumbfounded by the younger generation's perceived lack of patriotism and financial responsibility. Millennials are often seen as reckless and naive idealists. Their lack of interest in pursuing political solutions and legislation to achieve desired kingdom outcomes seems “irresponsible” and “lazy” to Boomers. Their growing disengagement from many of the established, Western, ecclesiological models is seen as a great apostasy. But I've got to hand it to Millennials. I think they are largely misunderstood by the old guard (and I'm sure the opposite is also true) but actually have some very helpful contributions to many of these pressing issues.

Before we proceed, I will state emphatically that I know many Boomers and Millennials that do not conform to these broad characterizations. This discussion merely highlights some overarching trends that noticeably vary by generation. Even with this preface, I’m sure I will still regrettably manage to offend those to whom these trends do not apply. If you find no meat, no sustenance—spit it out. And forgive me for offering you a plate of bones.

The Millennial rebuke to an older American generations' materialism, nationalism, closeted xenophobia, reliance on political power, and tendencies toward safety is mostly coming in the form of a largely silent yet powerful counter-example. Many Millennial Christ-followers are abandoning safe and practical career paths (often to the chagrin of their concerned parents) in favor of pursuing risky domestic and international kingdom endeavors: proclaiming freedom to those trapped in poverty, seeking justice for the exploited, sex trafficked, and hungry and hurting immigrants and refugees, declaring and demonstrating the good news of God's kingdom in costly and innovative ways. I believe Millennial Christ-followers have been doing more to address noticeable inconsistencies (“noticeable” to our ideological adversaries, anyway) in our shared “pro-life” position than past generations (recognizing that black lives, the LGBT community, undocumented immigrants and refugees, and even our enemies also and equally bear the Imago Dei, which is the basis for affirming and defending the sanctity of human life). Millennials are rejecting the brand of nationalism and exceptionalism that has characterized the old guard in favor of fearlessly embracing an increasingly interconnected world as a means to more effectively pursuing the Great Commission. They are serving the multicultural, global community of Christ in new and sacrificial ways, and they are recognizing and speaking up about the damage done when the American Church marries itself to political candidates who tout nativism and isolationism. They are less likely to grasp for political power and more likely to lay down their rights and accept “persecution” in an effort to obey Christ's command to willingly “go the extra mile.” Millennials are also more interested in pursuing authentic, incarnational ministry and organic church life outside the walls of church buildings and established programs and processes. I find their rejection of rote religion, spawned by their pure hunger for a living God and his better kingdom, admirable and refreshing.

If you’ve ever had your sin brought to your attention by your 5-year-old (I’m speaking hypothetically, of course), then you know how difficult it can be to acknowledge an error under less than ideal circumstances. Our knee-jerk reaction is to “explain,” excuse, retaliate, or change the subject. But the Spirit of God within us urges us to confess, repent, and move forward in his strength.

Do Christian Millennials have blind spots? Of course they do. And I've seen numerous articles and heard endless rants about what is “wrong” with them. I’m not suggesting that Boomers must fully embrace a Millennial reformation. My purpose here is not to demean or retire past generations or to drive a further wedge between young and old members of the family of God. My purpose is to encourage an atmosphere in which Spirit-led instruction, when appropriate, can potentially come from anywhere. We must regularly compare our personal and generational values and priorities to the values and priorities of Christ. If there is anything that doesn’t line up, we must let it go—no, we must crucify it! I would suggest to the Boomers that if they can get past their younger counterparts' inexplicable preoccupation with Pokémon GO, lumberjack beards, and covering every last inch of their bodies with tattoo art, they may see the image of Christ beautifully displayed through many of these upstart, whippersnappers. In spite of their harsher characterizations as suffering from “Peter Pan syndrome,” being “uninformed,” “over-sensitive,” and “self-important,” I am obviously very hopeful about Christian Millennials. In many ways they are boldly leading the way, but they are still in need of the acquired wisdom of older Christ-followers who were once regarded as “rebels” in their own right.

One of the greatest obstacles preventing Jesus' adversaries from accepting the LIFE he freely offered was that their proud hearts refused to receive instruction from such a humble source. Who did this young, uneducated and unemployed, outspoken, ragged, revolutionary from Nazareth of all places think he was that he could trample on their most deeply held traditions? And Jesus was not in any way gentle with their treasured and time-honored values and institutions either. He knew that their misconceptions about reality were keeping them from God. If we are of the sort that gets our feathers ruffled easily, we should not so quickly presume that we would be on the right side of the cultural, political, and religious clash between Jesus and many of his contemporaries. After all, coming around to Jesus’ way of thinking requires a miraculous Spirit-empowered act of suicide on our part—his new LIFE offered in exchange for our willing death. If we as broken human beings are set on becoming like Jesus, then we must be prepared for constant course adjustments, frequent death to ourselves in both small and large ways, as the Spirit leads. We must have pliable and humble hearts that are ready to receive his correction, rebukes, and instruction, channeled through even the most unwelcome and unlikely conduits. He may be sending a Samaritan, IRS agent, hooker, or a hipster your way.

“Those who disregard discipline despise themselves, but the one who heeds correction gains understanding” (Proverbs 15:32).

Colorblind

 

Many people believe that racial tensions would quickly subside in our country if we simply stopped noting and talking about our differences. Apparently it's thought that recognizing and discussing our distinctions inevitably creates a negative “us” and “them” mentality which leads to fear, conflict, and exploitation. We frequently embrace this ideology when we say, “I don’t really notice skin color,” or “I don’t have ‘black/white/Asian friends’—only ‘friends.’” It's true that, biologically speaking, there’s only one race—the human race. So couldn’t we all just agree to be colorblind? While this popular approach to race is well intentioned, it tragically misdiagnoses the true source of the tension. What's more, it completely disregards God's purpose and pleasure in our human distinctions. As such, it is counterproductive for the people of God, the church, to be “colorblind.”

Even though race is best understood as a subjective cultural construct and not a biological fact, it still remains a powerful and present feature of the human experience (especially for minorities). Race and ethnicity unite us to shared stories, songs, hopes, fears, and cultural values. Rightly or wrongly humans index and cross reference all this information in order to understand ourselves and make sense of the world.

The notion that we can eliminate strife by ignoring or extinguishing our differences is certainly not new. Many sociopolitical movements seeking to address various societal injustices have been built precisely on this flawed approach. Whether we are seeking to eradicate gender distinctions or signs of economic disparities by embracing uniformed clothing, language, etc. we are in the end failing to address the real issue. Jesus points out the flaw and backwardness of this superficial approach to managing sin when he explains to the Pharisees that they have done a bang-up job on the exterior but inside they're as corrupted as they've ever been, maybe even more so (Luke 11:39). It is our universal brokenness, our rejection of God and his goodness, that prompts us to fear, hate, envy, and seek to exploit each other's God-given differences. Therefore, misidentifying our differences as the source of our interpersonal and societal tension simply allows the real cancer to persist unnoticed.

Uniformity must not be confused with unity, and unity is what we're after if our goal is to be the sort of church that Jesus prayed for (John 17:20-21). In fact, diversity is a necessary component in order for unity to even exist. We can't very well boast about how great we all get along, for example, if we're all exactly alike. There must be the potential for fear, conflict, and exploitation if unity and grace are to emerge triumphant.

Paul's sentiment, “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” is sometimes used to advocate for an extinguishing of gender, race/ethnicity, etc. within the church (Galatians 3:28). But this simply can't be what he is describing. Paul writes extensively about gender and ethnicity elsewhere in his epistles. As a cross-cultural minister of the Gospel, one of Paul's greatest contributions to Jesus' infant church stemmed from his heart for the full inclusion of the once-marginalized, non-Jewish Christ-followers. He was also keenly aware of his own ethnicity as a Jewish man, as was Jesus. Our ethnicity, class, and gender—all of our human distinctions—are certainly superseded by our identity in Christ, as the Galatians passage points out, but are never erased or rendered meaningless. 
 

Americans, including American Christians, are largely racially illiterate (perhaps due to our “colorblindness”). Yet Americans, including American Christians, are frequently among the most racially opinionated folks. In lieu of firsthand information, we tend to form our deeply held perspectives about race within our own racial/ethnic groups based on our own limited outsider observations (after all, it's “rude” to discuss such things in public or in mixed company). The truth is, humans can never really be colorblind. We weren't meant to be.

 

Our human distinctions are by God's express design. His fondness for variety can be seen in every crevice of his vast and varied universe. He has created human beings in his image, male and female, with a near infinite range and endless potential for combinations of skin tones, textures, body frames and forms. Denying that it is so is a heresy of sorts, a rebellion against his clear intentions. Let us instead, like him, delight in his beautiful and vibrant creation. After all, his endgame involves a multiethnic, multicultural, multilingual, family of God, worshipping together in glorious harmony (Revelation 7:9-10).
 

By the grace of God, transformed, kingdom-centric people are capable of recognizing and appreciating their own human distinctions without being threatened, envious, demeaning or domineering of others. We can also engage other image-bearers from every people group, color, and creed with a Spirit-filled curiosity and admiration. It is ultimately the people of God who have been uniquely equipped through the redemptive ministry of Jesus to be ministers of reconciliation. If not us, then who? True and abiding racial reconciliation will only take place in our culture when we, the church, embrace and passionately pursue our God-given role. Let's not be afraid to press into socially awkward and taboo conversations about race within a racially diverse body of Christ. Let's become good at asking questions and great at listening. We have much to learn about ourselves, our brothers and sisters, and our Creator (since we collectively bear his image) as we compassionately explore our human distinctions rather than shying away from them. I've received many scriptural insights from brothers and sisters of color, for example, things only they could illuminate to me, aspects of the heart of God that were previously unseen to my colorblind eyes. There are pains that I can only feel—if I am willing to feel—vicariously through a brother or sister's tears. There are songs now unknown to me. There is beauty that I can only see through borrowed eyes. There are many ways in which we will never be the same, and yet, through the miraculous power of the Gospel, we are made “one.” What a disservice we do to ourselves, Jesus' church, and the clearly articulated heart of God when we instead adopt the majority culture's colorblindness.

 

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” -Romans 12:2

 

The House that Jesus Built (is Building)

 

 

If you grew up in church culture like I did, chances are you had a moment in which you were instilled with awe for “God's house.” Maybe it was when you were maniacally running through the “sanctuary” (not really sure why we call it that, by the way) or “worship center.” Perhaps you were gently instructed to show proper respect for “the house of the Lord.” My family and I would “go to church” every Sunday morning and at various other times throughout the week for midweek Bible studies, youth group, potlucks, game nights, Awana, VBS, rummage sales and so on. God loved having people over. If you knew someone who needed to meet Jesus, you would bring them to church too. Of course I understood through Biblical teaching that God was everywhere and lived in my heart, but it was also strongly implied through our behavior that the building was where we were the church and where all important church stuff took place. Don't misunderstand me; I'm not a bitter ex-church kid. I loved hanging out at “God's house.” I think there are a lot of good things going on—genuinely redemptive activities—in the typical, building-centric, church model. As I look through Scripture, though, I can't help but wonder if there could be another model that more closely embodies Jesus' intent for His Church.

“You are not the one to build me a house to dwell in,” was God's response to King David's well-intentioned offer to build Him a sweet pad (1 Chronicles 17:4b). Ever since the tragedy of Eden, God has given us glimpses of His endgame to once again dwell among humanity. He symbolically represented His presence among His people, for example, with various structures and artifacts. The first God-house was designed by Him to be extremely mobile. He is a God on the go, after all. By the time of David's reign, the people of Israel had been in the promised land for generations. It seemed like the perfect time to go all out with an upgrade to God's house. After God politely declined David's offer, He made the shepherd king a significant counter-offer. “I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, one of your own sons, and I will establish his kingdom. He is the one who will build a house for me, and I will establish his throne forever. I will be his father, and he will be my son” (1 Chronicles 17:11b-13a). On the one hand God is apparently giving the green light for David's son Solomon to build the proposed structure, but there is also a sense in which God is looking through Solomon to another “Son of David” and to another “house” to be built. Solomon himself seemed to recognize the limitations of the beautiful building he constructed. “The heavens, even the highest heavens, cannot contain you,” he says to God, “How much less this temple I have built!” (2 Chronicles 6:18b).

Centuries after Solomon's death, David's other Son arrived on the scene ready to get to work. In the second chapter of John's gospel, Jesus referred to His own body as the true temple of God. “For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form” (Colossians 2:9). And when His disciples commented on how beautiful the man-made building appeared, He was quick to remind them that its days were now numbered. It had become obsolete, as the “shadow” is supplanted by the “substance” (Colossians 2:17). Jesus elaborated in a conversation with a Samaritan woman in John chapter 4. He had just described the new Spirit-filled life, which is made possible by His good news. She asks Him to clarify where she should go to worship God. She presupposes that His answer will be one of two possible locations. He, of course, chooses neither. Instead He says, “A time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks” (John 4:21, 23).

The author of Hebrews explains, “Jesus has been found worthy of greater honor than Moses, just as the builder of a house has greater honor than the house itself...Christ is faithful as the Son over God’s house. And,” get this, “we are his house” (Hebrews 3:3, 6a). Peter says it like this, “As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 2:4-5). And Paul adds, “You are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit” (Ephesians 2:19-22). We get a prophetic look at Jesus' completed structure, made from “living stones,” in His revelation to John. “Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb,” says John's angelic escort, “And he carried me away in the Spirit to a mountain great and high, and showed me the Holy City, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God” (Revelation 21:9b-10). “And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God’” (Revelation 21:3).

So what does all this talk about the structure Jesus is assembling have to do with our church buildings and the emphasis we typically place on them? Well, the key ideas that I take away from these passages are as follows: First off, God wants to dwell among His people, the Church! How awesome is that?! Secondly, and this is obvious but hugely important, Jesus builds the Church. Thirdly, the Church is not a brick and mortar building. It is comprised of “living stones,” who are pulled from the rubble and made suitable by the finished work of the Cornerstone. Jesus is the true temple, and it is only by the grace of God that we participate in the structure as an extension of His body. And finally, Jesus' Church is not confined to a building or tied to a geographic location. He means for us to fill the earth with His glory as we collectively declare and demonstrate His Gospel in everyday life. Yet the building-centric model of church often corrals and occupies the Church with its perpetual onsite programs and extensive overhead (measured in both time and resources). I've heard it rightly said that our buildings say “come” while our Jesus tells us to “go.”

I'm not saying the Church shouldn't gather. It's imperative that we do. I'm not even saying that churches shouldn't build worship centers. There is no biblical mandate or prohibition either way. It is documented that the First Century Church met in homes and public spaces, but, in fairness to the current model, there was nothing else available to them. And while he was in Ephesus, Paul seemed to have rented or borrowed a lecture hall for ministry purposes (Acts 19:9). Ultimately, if we become dogmatic about gathering exclusively in living rooms and coffee shops over traditional church buildings we have completely missed the point. Where we worship isn't the issue (to paraphrase Jesus' comments to the woman at the well). Furthermore, I would never want to jeopardize the positive elements currently found in the prevalent model with a mass exodus to nothing. There is a growing counter movement to the building-centric model, for example, that casts off all submission and structure in favor of an undefined and individualistic Christian anarchy of sorts. This is not the “progress” that I am suggesting. Whatever model we embrace, the Church is to be a family, a community, with accompanying obligations of accountability, submission, and service. Given some of the alternate models, I can understand why many Christians passionately defend a continued reliance on our church buildings and their accompanying programs. It's all many of us have known. Numerous people who pass through our doors meet Jesus, are often discipled, and can become genuine followers of Christ. And I certainly don't mean to disparage the numerous hours, resources, blood, sweat, and tears that untold American Christ-followers have poured into the current centralized model. It pains me to think that the questions I’m raising are often seen as most threatening and hurtful to those who are very invested in the current model—faithful brothers and sisters who love and serve Jesus’ Church with all that they are. But if we aim to be faithful representatives of our incarnational King, then we must be brave enough to question some of our arbitrary traditions. More than this, we must be willing to die to our preferences and preconceptions if need be.

The American Church is increasingly living in a post-Christian culture. Statistics show the number of our friends, co-workers, and neighbors who will never set foot in our buildings—regardless of how “current” or “relevant” we make them—is growing exponentially. We need to figure out how to take everything that's going right in the current model (declaration and demonstration of the Gospel: confession/repentance, baptisms, celebrating the last supper together, worship, teaching, discipleship/modeling) and move it into our neighborhoods, common areas, and places of business. It seems that most American Christians believe that faithfully attending and contributing to the weekly gathering(s) encompasses all or most of what it is to be an active member of a church. Our frustrated and exhausted pastors and elders may be preaching “go,” “love,” and “serve,” but the prevalent building-centric model is silently contradicting them with “come,” “sit,” and “spectate.” Or at best, “come and participate in all that goes into our Sunday gathering and midweek programs so that others can come, sit, and spectate.” The less than 10% of church members that typically answer the second invitation and dedicate more than 90% of the time and resources required to maintain the building and programs are often left with so little time or energy that they are unlikely to invite their Muslim neighbors over for dinner or to join a bowling league or book club with Gospel intentions. We have in many ways unintentionally crafted a system that leaves no time or energy for what we most want—what God most wants—to see: That is redemption and restoration, up close and in everyday life, in our neighborhoods and workplaces through the Gospel of Jesus Christ. If only we could place less emphasis on our gatherings and put more energy into our goings. We are not called to congregate in “sacred spaces.” We are called to be a sacred people who, like Jesus, bring the good news of the kingdom of God into the midst of a hurting and broken world. This is the nature and function of the house that Jesus built and is building. This is the sort of house that God will dwell in.