echoes of redemption

I read a stat yesterday that I honestly don’t know what to do with.

“While 40 million people died of starvation in the last decade, chuches spent $10 billion on campuses.”

Anger was the first emotion.

Then disappointment.

Followed quickly by frustration.

And then I remembered the line that the article started with: “Thirty-four million Americans have given up on organized religion…”

And I thought: if that’s how organized religion is caring for the oppressed, maybe that’s not so bad.

After all, this was personal to the author:

“I went to seminary, and after several years of study, I began my career as a professional minister. It wasn’t long, however, before I discovered that the church was more lost than the world it was trying to save.

“Go into many churches today, and instead of finding an institution interested in saving the world, what you may find is an institution vastly more interested in saving itself.”

I’m pretty heartbroken – only because his words ring so true. (You can read the rest here.)

We have to change things. We have to abandon the old way of doing things. We have to bring the freedom found in Jesus to the world. We have to raise up communities of people – churches – that are connected to one another, to their cities and to the world.

We have to dis-organize, de-centralize and de-construct what we have come to know as church.

We need to rediscover the path of Jesus.

It’s easy to get wrapped up in the institution of church. There are programs, teams and systems to run.

For me, when I heard of hungry people, I thought: we have a team that handles them.

I wasn’t engaged (or even aware) of the global water crises.

I really wasn’t welcoming strangers (outside of them coming to a weekend service).

Providing for those who need clothing wasn’t high on my list… or on it at all.

Caring for the sick was something someone else handled (because I told myself I wasn’t “gifted” to do it).

Connecting to those in prison was for the fringe ministry people, not me.

And based off Jesus words in Matthew 25:41, my actions were those of a pastor who is going to hell.

Jesus also said, Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.

For, I was hungry and you gave me food.

I was thirsty and you gave me drink,

I was a stranger and you welcomed me.

I was naked and you clothed me,

I was sick and you visited me.

I was in prison and you came to me.

So maybe I need the oppressed more than they need me. Maybe in serving I find redemption for my own soul. Restoration for my own heart.

Maybe in serving them I meet the God of the oppressed in real, tangible ways.

And maybe, when it comes to the church, all the systems, the programs, the teams, the services – all of it is peripheral. Maybe instead of giving our lives to the church, we should give them to Jesus – feeding the hungry, providing water for the thirsty, welcoming the rejected, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and filling prisons with the hope of Christ.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said it best: If you want to build a ship, don’t summon people to buy wood, prepare tools, distribute jobs and organize the work, rather teach people the yearning for the wide, boundless ocean.

About two years ago I was totally and completely burned out as a pastor.

It’s a horrible place to find yourself, because you have one of the greatest jobs on the planet, and you basically work for God, so you’re not supposed to be able to burnout. But I found myself physically, emotionally and (worst of all) spiritually empty.

After a week of decompression, I worked with some people around me to craft a year-long recovery plan. And launched on a journey that ultimately lead me back into deeper relationship with Jesus and healthier rhythms of living here in this world.

When my friend Michael Chanley emailed a few months ago and asked me to write a chapter in a book on how the church can reach families, I immediately thought of my journey.

Because as I’ve talked to pastors around the country, I’ve realized that I’m not alone when it comes to working myself into a spiritual and emotional deficit. And my theory is that if the church wants to reach families, then it’s going to need pastors who aren’t burnt out.

So, i joined with over 30 other pastors to write a book called Collaborate. It’s a multi-faceted view of how we, as the church, can work together to reach the families in our communities. My story of recovery is just one of the many practical chapters on how to design your life and ministry to connect with this generation.

Our prayer is that this book would unite churches together and that our crowd-sourced ideas would lead to life change in the next generation.

Collaborate is available today and to celebrate, I am giving away two free copies – one on Twitter and one on Facebook.

Tweet this to win on Twitter: Excited to check out #CollaborateBook. @ardentvox joined 34 others to write it! Win a copy & find out more here: http://bit.ly/aD9CCH

Post the link to the Collaborate FB Page with this text to win on Facebook: Excited to check out this new book. My friend, Steven Dilla, joined 34 others to write it! Win a copy & find out more here: http://bit.ly/aD9CCH