It is no secret that I have many grievances with the institutional church. I have few reservations in saying that I think it barely breaks even in doing good, versus doing harm to its own and the world who needs to hear the Gospel.

As I read in Romans 15 tonight, Paul talks about his freedom to now come and visit the church in Rome since his doors for service in his own region were coming to a close. So, to better understand the passage, I read from Matthew-Henry’s classic commentary on the text. And one short phrase stood out and left a very bitter taste in my mouth.

It is justly expected from all Christians, that they should promote every good work, especially that blessed work, the conversion of souls. Christian society is a heaven upon earth, an earnest of our gathering together unto Christ at the great day.

Christian society is a ‘heaven upon earth’. In other words, the corporate church is a heaven upon earth.

Well, yes, perhaps in isolated places. Perhaps even in Matthew-Henry’s time this was true. It’s hard to say, really. But for me, in my experience and the experience of many others, this sentiment does not resonate whatsoever. There is little more charity in the institutional church than in the world at large. But, in the church, there is far less acceptance or ‘love’—even patience or forgiveness.

But I do notice that Matthew-Henry deliberately uses the word ‘a’ in order to describe this present ‘heaven’. Of course we cannot attain here what we will truly have with Christ, there.

Nonetheless, the church ought to be something like a heaven on earth, in certain respects. And while the institution will never be perfect, we cannot accept the flaws by that virtue. Much like our own personal pursuits of Christ, we have to continue to tear down the flawed structures and at least attempt to rebuild stronger, more effective ones—regardless of the ‘cost’.

In the chapter of Tim Keller’s book Counterfeit Gods, Keller argues that money is among the most dangerous idols. This is a sentiment that I’ve agreed with for a long time. Something that often sends waves of potent distasted through me when I see it in the church at large. But, I have always had difficulty articulating the real problem. But I think Keller hits it on the head—or at least comes close.

“It is because greed and avarice are especially hard to see in ourselves.”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes. As Keller rightly points out, everyone seems to agree that the world is a flagrantly greedy place. It’s virtually everywhere we look. But, regardless of its prevalence, virtually no one sees themselves as ‘greedy’. So, the problem spins out of control, but no one can tell.

Keller, later, continues to explain in more detail what’s really going on.

“Once you are able to afford to live in a particular neighborhood, send your children to its schools, and participate in its social life, you will find yourself surrounded by quite a number of people who have more money than you.”

We live with all-things-relative. Greed is less about how much you spend, but the heart you have when you spend it. There’s almost always someone who’s spent more then you have and this leaves us feeling justified in our actions. Whether they are objectively right or not. In effect, it makes our own greed invisible to us.

On a corporate level, greed would seem to be on the elder’s board of many churches. Certainly our new building is bigger than we need it to be, but have you seen the cathedral down the street? Sure, we could have easily gotten by without buying that bus for our church, but at least we didn’t buy a fleet of busses like that church over there! Simply because the church culture in a given geographic area spends money in a certain way doesn’t make it right or okay.

Here in Annapolis, people are very wealthy. Simply because some church members drive $60,000 vehicles, doesn’t mean the pastors are justified in purchasing $40,000 vehicles.

I personally have never felt that I was a greedy person. But, Keller’s analysis of the problem is wrought with logic and demands that I reconsider myself and my heart. Even some basic reflections on myself reveal that there is greed hiding that I justify by the more privileged around me.

I pray that can and will change.

Abraham had this unfortunate habit of telling people that Sarah was his sister, not his wife. Twice in scripture he allows the people of the land that he is dwelling in to believe this. Because of Sarah’s beauty, both times a ruler took Sarah as his wife and the wrath of God began to fall on that leader and nation.

In this case, it was Abimelech, the king of Geber. But listen to what happens. Genesis 20:4-6:

[Abimelech] said, "Lord, will you kill an innocent people? Did he not himself say to me, ‘She is my sister’? And she herself said, ‘He is my brother.’ In the integrity of my heart and the innocence of my hands I have done this." 6Then God said to him in the dream, "Yes, I know that you have done this in the integrity of your heart, and it was I who kept you from sinning against me. Therefore I did not let you touch her.

Abimelech did something wicked in ignorance. Honest ignorance—and God took note. He kept Abimelech from consummating their marriage and it was merciful. Matthew-Henry says it well.

If our consciences witness, that, however we may have been cheated into a snare, we have not knowingly sinned against God, it will be our rejoicing in the day of evil. It is matter of comfort to those who are honest, that God knows their honesty, and will acknowledge it. It is a great mercy to be hindered from committing sin; of this God must have the glory.

God was merciful on Abimelech when his wrong doing really was an honest mistake. I wonder, why does the church have so much difficulty extending that kind of mercy?

As I have been in a season of self-examination and reconsideration, I found this quotation from the puritan author Thomas Watson (among my favorites) to be very encouraging.

“Make up your spiritual accounts daily; see how matters stand between God and your souls (Psalm 77:6). Often reckonings keep God and conscience friends. Do with your hearts as you do with you watches, wind them up every morning by prayer and at night examine whether your hearts have gone true all that  day, whether the wheels of your affections have moved swiftly toward heaven.”

Watson is encouraging us (me) to make self-examination not something that we do in seasons of change and reflection, but something we do as a regular part of our day. Much like reading scripture and prayer should be a regular discipline that we don’t grow out of, so should self-examination be something that is a disciplined part of our daily lives.

For me, this is something that I realize has always been clearly missing from my regular prayer times. Not that self-examination is something missing from my life altogether. In fact, I feel in general, I’m fairly good at it. Rather, it’s missing from my discourse with the Father.

When I pray, I pray for myself, for friends, family, social issues and anything else that may graze my mind at the time. But a conversational examination of self with God isn’t something that I habitually work into my prayer times.

I would like to see this change. And I hope that when I do, I will see me change as well.

I have recently been provoked to reassess my convictions on various things. This is good. Introspection and reconsideration are good. Willingness to be proven wrong are good. We either come out the other side more attuned to our convictions, or realizing that we were in error.

This is where I am, although I will not dive into specifics. At least not right now.

But at the same time as I am seeking the scriptures to better understand the way I ought or ought not live, I am also being challenge not to allow myself to read more into scripture than is really there. Personally, when I am thoroughly challenged in my conviction (particularly by a respected brother or sister), I will have the tendency to either produce the fault in myself and so win back their approval. Or, for my own conceit, find the justification for my conviction in scripture, whether it’s there to be found or not.

But reading in 1 Corinthians today, I’m challenged particularly by what Paul writes, using Apollos and himself as an example for the church.

1 Corinthians 4:3-5:

“But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself. For I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me. Therefore do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart. Then each one will receive his commendation from God.”

Paul has established that in spite of what others might say about him, his conscience is clean—however, that is not evidence enough in itself to to ‘acquit’ him of guilt. Rather, he explains that it is God who is the only one who can truly judge. For us this means God’s Word.

I find myself in a similar position to the one Paul describes here. Although I have a clean conscience, I cannot be confident on that alone. When I am challenged by a brother, I must accept that perhaps I have misunderstood, misread, or misinterpreted the only right foundation for a clean conscience.

But it’s in Paul’s next words that I’m particularly struck.

1 Corinthians 4:6:

“I have applied all these things to myself and Apollos for your benefit, brothers, that you may learn by us not to go beyond what is written, that none of you may be puffed up in favor of one against another.”

Whether in vindicating myself, or in seeking another’s approval, I should be especially careful “not to go beyond what is written”. I must allow no part of myself to be sacred. Instead, faithfully seek God’s word to establish a right conviction—whether it find me affirmed in the area I was challenged, or find me convicted and repentant of some sin.

But all the while, I rest assure that God’s grace in the blood of Jesus Christ is greater than all and he will guide me to truth, eventually. And in that there will be glory and satisfaction.

I finished reading 2 Timothy yesterday. In Paul’s closing thoughts, he exhorts Timothy 4:1-2):

I charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by his appearing and his kingdom: preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching.

I’ve always found this to be an interesting exhortation. Why not just say, “Always be ready to preach the word”? Why did he choose to be specific and refer to seasons? As I’ve thought about it, I think there’s probably a lot of reasons. But I think of two in particular.

1. Seasons of the soul. People ebb and flow and there’s no way around it. A lot can change from one emotional state to another, even the way we choose to interpret things. I think it’s possible that Paul was telling Timothy that regardless of what season he found himself in emotionally, or physically or socially or whatever, he should remember that his duty is to preach the word and he needs to be ready for it. And,

2. Seasons of ministry. I think that this one is probably a bit more likely since it seems to agree more with the context—particularly the statement immediately following it. There are times that are for ministry (missions trips, church, youth group, whatever) and there are times that are not for ministry (like going to the movies or out for dinner). But I think that Paul was telling Timothy that he needs to be prepared for ministry even in the times that are ‘not’ for ministry.

The Church could take a queue from Paul’s exhortation here. We’re in a time where almost no one is ready ‘out of season’. Especially not ministers, most of whom are too wrapped up in their gigantic labyrinth of a church system.

I think that’s pretty bad. Especially when most people in our culture don’t want anything to do with our ministers ‘seasons’.

I just read the story of Josiah in 2 Kings a couple days ago. You probably recognize it. Josiah is the king who sets out to repair the temple. So he sends a priest into the treasury to get money out to pay the workmen. But while they’re there, the priest stumbles on the Book of the Law. He takes it back to Josiah and reads it to him. When Josiah hears what’s been written, he realizes that Judah is living in sin. He tears his clothes and mourns for Judah.

Then, he gathers all the people together and has the Book of the Law read to all of them, “great and small”. Through Josiah’s leadership, the people reform their ways and for the first time in many, many years they celebrate the Passover.

In the narrative timeline of 2 Kings, this is a really positive turn. The kind of moment that makes you say, “Yes!”. After reading, “so-and-so reigned in Israel so-many years and did evil in the sight of the Lord…” over and over again, things start to look bleak. Then Josiah comes along and you almost breath a sigh of relief—or you would if it were you first time reading the narrative.

But, the truth is that it didn’t last. Josiah is unexpectedly killed in battle and is succeeded by Johoahaz. Who, guess what, “did what was evil in the sight of the Lord”.

What a let-down. But I think the truth is that most Christians who’ve been walking for more than a few years can really relate to this—whether they recognize it or not. Life is made up of times of great spiritual strength and times of questioning where that strength went. Of course, both are guided by God and, in both, God is the defending agent. As soon as someone is met with their first time of spiritual trouble, they’re also sure to be met with false starts.

By that I mean a temporary resurgence in spiritual fervor. Like all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, there is fresh spiritual vigor. But, whatever was a bring down in the first place probably hasn’t finished causing trouble and the spark of energy is gone almost as quickly as it came.

I’m no foreigner to these ups and downs—and especially not the false start. For me, if I’m not aware of what’s going on, the discouragement can leave me in worse shape than I was in to start with. I’ve found that managing my expectations is fundamental in keeping myself from even deeper discouragement. It’s important to remember that the Spirit is never “business as usual”. He deals with us differently at different times out our life. I have to understand that any “start” could easily be a false start, but even if it is, it is for a reason and I should be patient and not give up hope during that time—whether it lasts or not. God is working all things for my ultimate good.

So, if you’re one who experiences the false starts frequently, or are experiencing one now, or just experienced one, or whatever—keep up hope. God is the defending agent and that’s a lot better than business-as-usual.