Lifebridge Church Blog

This past Sunday in church I shared a blog from Hal Hammons that had particularly touched me this week — especially given all that is going on with our Haiti relief effort. Several have asked for a copy of it, so I thought I’d simply include it on my blog. Here it is:

MESSY

Some people are absolutely comfortable in their church home. They know their seats will be empty and waiting for them every week. Everyone knows everyone, and always has. The preacher will preach the same sort of lessons he always preaches, the same sort they’ve always heard. Everything is neat and tidy. Everything is in its place.

I feel sorry for those people. I really do.

I prefer messy churches. I want to be surprised constantly. I want to be inconvenienced. I want a different stranger to steal my seat every week. I want to trip over kids. I want to have to speak up so an older person can hear me. I want to battle through tough accents, burrow into tough Bible texts, field questions that have no easy answers. I want personal, social and spiritual challenges.

I know some of the issues in messy churches will be bad; some will even be tragic. Factions will arise and require exposure (1 Corinthians 11:19). Morality will grow lax and require correction (Galatians 5:16-21). It’s a hassle, no doubt about it. Lots of angst, lots of disappointment. But at least messy churches are alive. At least they have growth potential. I’d rather try to stave off false doctrine in a church than try to raise a church from the dead.

Proverbs 14:4 reads, “Where no oxen are, the manger is clean, but much revenue comes by the strength of the ox.” A lifeless church is a lot less trouble than a lively one, but you aren’t going to get much spiritual reward from working with a group like that. If I have the choice, I’ll exchange a clean manger for a sloppy one any day.

When a recent cold snap brought Houston temperatures down near 20 degrees for three nights in a row, the local Christian radio station started issuing pleas for listeners to bring coats, blankets, etc to the downtown shelters for all the homeless who would be seeking refuge. When my wife heard of their plight, she asked me “what are we going to DO to help these people?” I had already responded to several other needs that day, so in noble pastoral fashion, I responded, “Right now I’m tired of helping people. We’re not the only ones in the world. Let somebody else help them.”

Thankfully, my more Godly side won out and after a few phone calls, we ended up with a 7 month pregnant woman and her three sons who stayed in our home for several days until the cold had passed. They had no electricity, their car heater didn’t work, and they were in a pretty desperate situation.

Considering what it meant to this family, our sacrifice was well worth it. We spent a little money, prepared a bit more food, and the kids gave up their bedrooms for a weekend. No big deal. But the lessons we learned were invaluable. Lesson #1 — it’s not our house. God owns this house, and He has been good enough to let us stay here for a while. We’re just travelers passing through on our way to heaven anyway. So, if the house is His, what better way to use it than to help care for those that He cares about.

What if I viewed all my possessions that way? It’s not my car . . . it’s His. How does God want to use His car? To shuttle me back and forth to work — Yes. But how else? And that new lawnmower — it’s great for cutting my lawn . . . but does God have even bigger plans for it?

What would it look like if I’d tithe not only “my” paycheck, but “my” house and “my” car and “my” time as well? Food for thought . . .