The Wake-up Call

I’ve mentioned several times that we’ve been doing house church for about eight years now. But for most of those eight years I have admittedly been straddling the fence. I knew that house church was something God wanted us to keep doing–and I wanted to be involved with a fresh approach to practicing our faith–but I also still wanted to belong to the “club”, if you catch my meaning. I wanted to be seen by the institutional church (and especially the church leadership) as valid and viable, even as I walked untrodden paths. I mistakenly saw myself as one who could “get along” in a wide range of camps and expressions of faith, as I chanted the mantra of church unity.

Then something happened that let me know, in no uncertain terms, that we were no longer in the club.

We were launching a new worship-based ministry that at the time was called “The Tabernacle”. It was during the kickoff phase of this ministry that we were invited by a local pastor’s wife (who liked our worship expressions, particularly The Wild One’s teachings on dance) to teach some of her girls for a few weeks and end it with a three-day worship conference that would introduce people to The Tabernacle. We thought it was a great opportunity and show of favor, and we jumped at the chance. The Wild One agreed to teach a once-a-week class for 8 weeks in preparation for the event.

But something began to change after the first class. Very little was verbalized to us, but it became increasingly apparent that there was talk among both the dancers and the leadership as we went forward–an increasing undercurrent of hostility. The pastor’s wife, after such a warm invitation, began to backpedal and distance herself, as though she herself had been “talked to”. The pastor (whom I considered a friend from other events we’d participated in together) remained aloof pretty much the entire time. By the time the actual conference took place, even bystanders could detect something was amuck. But we had been invited, and we believed it was a divine appointment; so we purposed to go through with it and see what happened.

The last night of the event, I closed the conference with a prophetic message that dealt with seeing beyond our local church programs to embrace a larger picture of the Body of Christ. It was direct, but Biblical (and according to our eldership who was present, a timely message). At the end of the meeting, the pastor came up and publicly rebuked me in front of my own conference guests. He was not specific about what he disagreed with; instead, he chose to claim that he had not given me permission to prophesy in his house, that he was the prophet of the house–something he said repeatedly. And this was how the conference ended. (Not the big finish most of us hope for, is it?)

Since some of our eldership was there to witness the whole thing (thankfully), I immediately appealed to them for accountability, asking for a fair assessment of whether I had done anything that deserved this reaction. The pastor, who initially had agreed to a meeting to discuss our differences, would not return phone calls. When I emailed an apology, he merely replied with more venom, making more non-specific accusations, and ending it with a request for no further communication.

So what began with a warm invitation ended with the left foot of fellowship. Needless to say, I was devastated and confused. However, as I processed this experience over the following weeks and months, I saw some things that I’d overlooked before. I realized that there were deeper issues going on that had little to do with what I’d actually said in the meeting. Here’s how I knew this:

• Before the event, the host pastor had asked some probing questions that should have given me a clue–questions about our being a house church, and concerns that this new ministry might evolve into its own church, siphoning people from other congregations. I had overlooked these questions, although obviously they were very telling.
• The pastor also had refused to allow me to promote the event to his church, making the comment, “You and I are in two different worlds.” Again, I should have noted this, but failed to do so.
• My eldership, while upholding the content of my message, did conclude that I should have made sure I had this pastor’s approval before I spoke prophetically in his church. But when I attempted to apologize for this, the apology went unaccepted. This told me clearly that this was not the real issue, because if breaking protocol had been the true offense, the apology would have remedied it.
• Becase the pastor never did give me specifics about what had offended him, his repeated claim “I’m the prophet in this house” suggested he was acting more to protect his own turf than to set me straight on something I’d said wrongly.

Sometimes what seems to be the worst thing that could have happened turns out to the the best thing that could have happened. This event was not pleasant, but it woke me up. As a direct result of this event, I began looking honestly at where God had taken us, and where He was apparently taking us. I began reading and studying about alternate ways of expressing the Christian faith outside of institutional Christianity, things I’d never even considered before. I realized finally that our journey into house church had not simply been about a fresh way to “do church”, but a more real way to be the church. I realized that I did not have to belong to a fading institution to be a fruitful, passionate follower of Jesus. And most of all, I realized that what God was leading us into was incompatible with the religious systems I’d tried for so long to keep belonging to. I didn’t belong there anymore, and any attempt to court the favor of that system was going to result in the same kind of clashes and conflicts.

Since that event nearly a year and a half ago, I have grown more and been more fulfilled in my personal faith than in many years of serving diligently in the system. I am more relaxed, more joyful, more at peace. I’ve given up the ludicrous task of trying to impress religious leadership. I love them, and I’m part of the church whether they happen to like it or not. But I don’t have to have their approval to be effective in God’s kingdom. There are many people outside the walls who would gladly follow Jesus if they knew they didn’t have to join a religious club in order to do it. I’m now in the process of seeking these people out, and I’m learning how to live a real and vibrant faith in front of them, rather than looking for more ways to preach to the choir.

 

Wayward Son

Musician. Composer. Recovering perfectionist. Minister-in-transition. Lover of puns. Hijacker of rock song references. Questioner of the status quo. I'm not really a rebel. Just a sincere Christ-follower with a thirst for significance that gets me into trouble. My quest has taken me over the fence of institutional Christianity. Here are some of my random thoughts along the way. Read along, join in the conversation. Just be nice.
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