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The Perfect Church

I was browsing through local church websites the other day, looking at their statements of faith. That’s basically a list of what they believe. Most had predictable statements about believing in one God, Jesus is His Son, and the Bible is God’s Word, etc. You know, traditional Christian theology.

But I did stumble upon one church that really caught my attention. Here’s a sample of their beliefs:

“God is divine energy, continually creating, expressing and sustaining all creation.”

Um, ok. I already feel my legs involuntarily folding into the lotus position.

“We believe that Jesus expressed his divine potential and sought to show humankind how to express ours as well.”

Well, I’m really glad Jesus lived up to His “divine potential”. Would have been a real disappointment if he’d skipped class too often and flunked out of Divinity High School before He got His diploma. But this church believes nothing about Him being God, His cross or His resurrection.

THE BIBLE –  “We study the Bible as history and allegory and interpret it as a metaphysical representation of humankind’s evolutionary journey toward spiritual awakening.”

Uh…I’m looking for my thesaurus. I know I’ve got one here somewhere…

Although this church represents itself as Christian, it’s anything but. In fact, from these and the other statements on its webpage, it has much more in common with Buddhism and Eastern Philosophy than Biblical Christianity.

So why does this place bother to call themselves a “church”? Well, you don’t get as many people coming for Sunday services if you announce, “Hi, we’re a new age cult in total opposition to traditional Biblical Christianity”. Instead, you take Christian terminology and symbols and “reinterpret” them in light of what you think is truth. And you sucker well-meaning people looking for Jesus into the doors, though they’ll never find Him there.

No, when you say “Jesus”, you don’t actually mean the one and only Son of God (big “S”, big “G”) who said “No one comes to the Father but by me”. Instead, you mean a hippie guru jesus (a son of god) of your own construction who’s just one of many possible paths to God.

This reminds me of a restaurant downtown that’s now closed. They rehabbed an old church building into a swanky eatery. There had music playing there, but it was no longer hymns from when it was a church. The platform that Billy Graham once preached from is gone, and busboys took his place. And they were not serving up the spiritual meat of the Word, but instead something much more temporal and common.

Just like that restaurant, there’s a lot of places in your town that look like churches, but they truly aren’t. They may look like a church, talk like a church, and even sing the same hymns. But according to the definitions set down by the Bible they are not churches at all but just quasi-religious social gatherings.

So what should you look for when searching for a real church?

Find a church that proclaims God’s Truth, not its own guesses

I had lunch once with a former pastor who’d just visited my church the previous Sunday. As a fellow minister, I was interested to know his reaction to our service. What he told me came as a shock…

“Dave, I like your church because it’s one of the few I’ve visited here that actually preaches from the Bible.”

With a curious expression, I asked, “Just what do they preach about then?”

“Oh, they may throw in a Bible verse or two along the way. But most of the pastors came up with a positive thinking, pop psychology message they knew people would like and then stuck some Bible verses on top just to validate what they said. Few of the churches I’ve visited so far used a Biblical passage and then extracted the message from the text.”

More than being flattered by what he’d said, I was stunned and horrified that we were the exception to the rule.

Let me say this clearly: the Bible is the Christian’s sole authority for understanding the world, others, and themselves. All things are to be interpreted in the light of Scripture, not the other way around. When the Bible contradicts how I think, my job is to change how I think, NOT to try and change the Bible!

Times change, culture fluctuates, opinions vary. But God’s Word is the Truth, the Whole Truth, and Nothing But the Truth. It is the only source that can hold the full weight of my trust. It’s eternal Truth is unchanging, regardless of the whims of culture or waves of human sentiments.

Honestly, if I want to go to a real heaven when I die, I want something more than just some guy’s opinion. I’ll only trust what God Himself has told me with something that eternally important.

Find a church where you’ll attend faithfully, not occasionally

Some argue church attendance is not important. They say, “The church is not a building, it is people.” However, while God gives no requirement about what kind of building we visit, He in fact commands that we be faithful to a weekly assembly of ourselves somewhere together with believing Christians. This is not optional.

And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as you see the Day approaching. – Hebrews 10:24-25

This was written because some Jewish Christians were avoiding going to worship together in the 1st century because of harsh persecution. The writer of Hebrews is warning them to continue going to church, even though their lives and property are being threatened.

What do you think his response would be then to those of us who skip church not because we fear for our lives, but because we’ve found something more fun to do that weekend? You know, “Sunday Funday”? If believers were supposed to attend church even under fear of death, how does God look at it when we miss because we’re “just not feeling up to it today”?

Regular weekly worship attendance is essential for a growing Christian. True, you can be a Christian and not go to church each Sunday – I know several who don’t. However, you cannot be a growing and faithful Christian without attending. The Bible simply does not give you that option.

Before you accuse me of being a legalist, think about how little influence God gets during your own week. Just speaking for myself, I’m around people every day who don’t hold to Christian values. They talk about things that mock Christian teaching, they accept lifestyles which blatantly contradict Scriptural teaching. And to be honest, after a while it starts to influence me, even though I’m a pastor and know better.

I start to look lightly at things God says are evil. I lower my standards of what I’ll watch for entertainment, because I want to know everything everyone else is talking about. Like my lost friends, I begin saying, “Sure it’s sin, but everybody’s doing it. What’s the big deal?”

It’s only because I have a weekly Sunday assault on my conscience by God’s Word that I am jarred back into the reality of what God says is right and acceptable. Every Sunday I’m reminded…

…that I really should have been studying my Bible every single day

…that the problem that dogged my mind for days should have been prayed over and released to God

…that the burden I’m struggling beneath could have been given into God’s hands

In midst of other believers who’ve walked out the same faith last week, I see I’m not alone.  And in the sweet presence of God’s Spirit which comes in like a flood when His children are gathered together, I finally see my problems from God’s perspective. Every care melts away as insignificant, and “the things of earth grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace”.

Find a church that’s a true family, not an audience

Lots of folks walk in a church building every Sunday. They sit at the back of the room, shake a couple of hands, mumble through a few songs and endure a 30 minute sermon. As they look at their watches, they know from experience they’ll be walking out the door soon. From there it’s a stock car race with the Methodists to see who gets to the lunch buffet first.

Tipping the hat to God on Sunday? Check! Now you’re good to go.

Church was never supposed to be winnowed down to the lowest common denominator: mere attendance. And sure, at least they got up, got dressed and made it to a church. I guess that much is commendable.

But in the Bible, church is also about “fellowship”. That means there’s supposed to be a give and take, an interaction with other believers. It’s not just attendance at a religious concert and lecture. If not, we could all just sit home and watch it on the internet…which unfortunately is all some people do now, and think they’ve “been to church”.

The reason some think attendance is all that’s required is they’ve believed wrong reasons for going to church.

They think we go to church to learn the Bible. Sure, that should happen at a church service. But couldn’t you actually learn the Bible better by staying home and studying Bible commentaries by learned theologians? Couldn’t you google a bazillion sources and learn everything ever written about a particular Bible passage or doctrine?

They think we go to church to worship, but can’t you worship alone? Surely there’s better worship music on iTunes than anything my church produces on a Sunday. Just head out into nature, put on a set a headphones and have your own private worship time, right?

They think we go to church to make us good people. But don’t we all know people who don’t go to church who are actually much better human beings than some we’ve known at church? I sure do. Some of the lousiest humans I’ve ever encountered sat in a pew every Sunday…and never changed! So if church attendance makes you better, how did it not affect them?

None of those are valid reasons alone for going to church. Biblically, we should go to church because God says we need it. We need a Christian community.

In church, we “stir up love and good works”, like the passage earlier said. We go through our lives together, like a real family of faith. We take care of each other spiritually. When someone’s absent for a few Sundays, we check in on them to see if they’re sick or depressed, or God forbid that they are straying from God.

And that’s when we do the other thing in that passage: we “exhort” each other. That word can mean encourage, but it also implies kicking someone’s butt when they’re not doing what they ought. I’ve noticed when a fellow believer starts failing to follow Christ, it usually shows up in their church attendance. That’s because most of us don’t want to hear about following Christ if we’re currently running from Him.

So as believers, since we know we are weak, we hold each other accountable for living right. Not in a judgy, hateful way. But in a way where we say, “I know it’s tough, and I’ve screwed up just like you’re doing. But I know you can do it, so get up and let’s try again!”

No TV preacher can do that for you, and he’s certainly not going to visit you in the hospital when you’re sick. No internet meme is going to be enough when your loved one has died, or your kids have done something stupid and life-altering. For the big-ticket trials of life, you need a real church. Anything short of that, and you’ll go through a world of pain prone and alone.

And by the way, Satan will do everything to make you stay home.

One Sunday while I was in the midst of preaching a sermon on this very subject, I saw a friend through the window walking toward the front door of our church. She’d been before a few years back, but stopped coming. I was so thrilled to see her returning, I’m sure I grinned while I was preaching.

As I tried to keep my mind on my sermon, I watched as she walked on. I expected then to see the door open and her take a seat. But instead, I watched sadly as she turned and suddenly walked the opposite direction back to her car. She never came in the door.

This woman had taken the trouble to get up and get dressed on a Sunday morning. She had driven all the way to church, parked and exited her vehicle only to then turn and drive away. She did this even though she knew she’d have a warm welcome from friends inside, thrilled to see her.

THIS is how hard Satan will work to keep you away from church. He will give you every excuse, every possible diversion.

He will make your boss give you hours on Sundays, and then guilt trip you when you ask off to worship.

He will make your kids act out and whine to stay home and watch tv. They will want to invite friends to stay over on Saturday nights, and then make you feel like a religious fanatic if you suggest they get up the next day and get ready for church.

He will put recreational events almost exclusively on Sundays. Every 5K run, brunch, or community event will be purposely scheduled on a Sunday morning. It is absolutely not a coincidence.

And he will put voices in your head from the past – a mother who told you that walking into a Christian church made you a traitor to your heritage and family, a father who said all church members were hypocrites, and why on earth would you want to be one too.

He will put every possible obstacle in your way, every excuse in your own mouth, and every distraction in your mind to keep you from God’s House.

If he’s working that hard to keep you away, shouldn’t that tell you just how important church really is?

So…stop the excuses. Clear your calendar. Push aside all the many “good” things in order to make room for what God calls the “greatest” thing you can do on a Sunday.

Get up, be the Church, and go to a real church!

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Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.