A Visit to the Village: Part II

Some days have passed, and I am still angry. I know I am at risk of sounding uncharitable, but I cannot keep silent.  

They say the Church is "alive and well" because "we had a pancake breakfast last week and everyone smiled." They say "the Spirit is moving" because "the choir sounded good," and we are "growing" because there are children in the building, never mind if Christ is in their hearts.

And I-- I am supposed to be polite. I am supposed to say, “Yes, fellowship is a blessing,” when what I want to say is: “This is not a fellowship. This is a funeral parlor with coffee.”

I have seen and written the letters-- those notices that name every pie sale and trivia night with breathless joy, but cannot once say repent. Sin. Redemption. People praise the “variety” of people in the pews, but I have yet to hear a truly different voice speak a word that disrupts the ocean cruise.

We are drowning in "friendliness," and starving for fire; mistaking activity for anointing, and attendance for obedience. We have mistaken familiarity for faithfulness. And most of all, we have mistaken the absence of conflict for the presence of God.

Those who profess to be a part of the Bride have amnesia over who she waits for, or that she is waiting for anyone at all. 

Oh, my heart...

But that is why there is a difference between the church as an institution, and the actual body of believers. There are so many... that come on Sundays because it’s familiar. Because it’s habit. Because they "like the people," not because they encountered the living Christ, were pierced to the heart, or because they were humbled-- desperate to hear a word that would heal, convict, or command.

And they wonder why their churches are dying. 

What else could it do but die, when it is so obsessed with not being uncomfortable?

If holiness returned, it would offend half the average congregation, and confuse the rest.
If Jesus came in person, I’m not convinced He’d be allowed to speak. 

I cannot put on a church-smile and water down the Gospel to make it go down easier for those who refuse to chew... but I do not yet feel prepared, or know how. What I can do is see; I can see that there are many, many tables that need to be overturned. The temple is sick... though when has it ever had much of a run? I wonder if it can be cleansed. Surely only God can do that-- and perhaps this is part of it. Let the false peace be broken, and the Bride rise over the ashes.

This lukewarm religion simply will not do.