What's The Point, Anyway?

If someone were to ask me what the Christian Church in the United States has most gotten wrong in the last fifty years, I suppose I could answer that we were unconscionably slow in responding to the fight against segregation epitomized in the Civil Rights era of the 1960s, that we've let the likes of Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson assume far greater prominence than they deserve, that we've crafted a Christianity that's too much like the Republican Party's every platform, or even that we appear to be utterly, relentlessly focused on sins of the bedroom -- fighting against abortion and gay rights -- and virtually ignored the sins more easily practiced, perhaps, by all of us: materialism, greed, bigotry, indifference to the poor, accommodation to culture, and identifying with military might in the name of the Prince of Peace. These all are horrific examples of a corporate lack of discernment, lack of maturity, lack of Biblical perspective, and lack of Christlike love, and each has resulted in very real, very painful blows inflicted on society in Christ's name.

I'm convinced, however, that each of these and every other example of the Church getting it wrong has at its root what I believe to be the greatest error embraced by the post-World War II Church -- the idea that the object of, the greatest realization of, Christian faith is avoidance of sin. The idea that the essence of the believer's walk with Christ is to not sin has caused the Body of Christ to wither on its Vine, flailing impotently at a dying culture like so many dead thornbushes while failing powerfully to echo the prophetic voice of the Word. We've determined that the best use of our time as Christians is to studiously avoid sinning, and it not only hasn't worked for us as individuals, but it's resulted in the studious avoidance of sinners. That has lead not only to the ills and evils above, but it's crippled the witness of the only Way through which sin can ever be eradicated, both in people and in the world they live in.

There is, certainly, a genuine fear of the unknown -- of people we see as way different from us -- and the real fact of messy lives can becoming overwhelming in ministry. I know this well; I also know that the cure isn't to pull away, but to establish boundaries that clearly reflect respect, not barbed-wire fences of fear, surrender, distaste or smugness. But God's perfect love casts out fear; dislike, on the other hand, has a remarkable way of casting out perfect love, and too often our discomfort at real-life suffering and sin announces a real-life discomfort around non-Christian sinners -- the very people we once were without the Lord Jesus, and people with whom we still have much more in common with than we'd care to acknowledge. The maxim that "you're known by the company you keep," when applied to Jesus, gives us comfort. Applied to us, it too often sanctifies our social discomfort, even our prejudices.

If sin is bad, we've reasoned, then sinners must be bad, too, like hosts carrying a noxious virus easily spread upon contact. So good Christians, terrified at catching something -- we call it judiciously avoiding temptation -- structure their lives around "Christian" activities and "Christian" contacts, scurrying from one safe haven to another, ducking for cover at any obstacles in their paths and arriving, safe and untouched, at places where their godly walks can be lauded and protected by others spent from finding their own safe havens. We keep busy with other Christians, banding together to decry this activity or that, gaining strength from being found on the right side and professing concern for the fate of those on the other. We don't open up our schedules and our homes, much less our hearts, to them; our testimonies might be harmed, we think, either from actual giving in to other influences or, more likely, the presumption among others that we already have.

That we call worship services, Bible studies, and fellowship groups "ministry" is particularly difficult to understand, given that they're largely comprised of other believers, believers who no doubt need to be ministered to, but whose likelihood of receiving care grows in proportion to the dissimilarity between their problems and those of the struggling folks outside. And, by the way, when was the last time you attended a Bible study that was not only made up of both sexes, but also discussed issues that equipped you to go out to a fallen world with no protection at all but the promises of God?

The Christian, a sinner, ought never fear any contaminating influence from the non-Christian, also a sinner. Our righteousness is secure in Christ Jesus, and God help us if we lean on our own efforts to be good, clean and shiny. We'll fail, and if we avoid people who aren't "good," who aren't clean and shiny, in the hope of keeping our own walks gleaming, I think we'll not only dull that walk with the haze of pride and arrogance, but will commit a far greater sin than any that might rub off from those who sin freely. Idolatry can be a lofty place that our sin-free walks often land, and casting our eyes up there instead of reaching down here is no less spiritual adultery than lavishing our worship and trust on a gleaming bronze calf.

Scurry from Christian safehouse to safehouse, and you'll sin just in the doing. Walk freely with God and exuberantly embrace those He loves, and any nicks and cuts, sinful failures, along the way will soon be wiped away by a growing love that models His and fears nothing but our own trust in our goodness.