Ministry

When Covid-19 hit the United States early in 2020, many churches around the country were in panic mode. How would they gather? How would they sing and celebrate? How would they take the sacraments? How would they hear the word of God preached? Thankfully, as the church has always done, many churches throughout our country improvised in order that the church may be fed and equipped to live a life on mission in a broken world. As some Covid-19 restrictions are starting to lift, many pastors are facing a potentially fatal problem: will they want to come back? While many people have missed physically worshipping with God’s people, others have found it quite enjoyable to stay at home to not fight their kids and worship in their pajamas.

Sadly, many Christians are unaware of the detrimental effects of loosing their church family, at least physically loosing their church family. As we all know, digital connection is as real as porn is to sex—it offers the real experience but with significant shortcomings. As embodied souls, we need to be together. I need to hear your singing, I need to experience the dead silence of confession, I need to shaped alongside you by the word of God, I need to participate in the sacramental meal together—we need one another. Lest we forget, we are creatures who have bodies, senses, and experiential capacities.

While I want to extend an enormous amount of grace to Christians in this season, I also want to urge them to consider the necessity and importance of gathering together, even if it is inconvenient. It will always be easier to watch a service online, but will it be as profitable? Will it be as rich? Will it be as formational? Rather than let convenience drive our decisions, please allow the Scriptures to inform how we live, heeding the call of Hebrews 10:24-25, “[24] And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, [25] not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.”

In the moments of greatest tragedy and trial, the church has been a refuge for those who are hurting and broken. I long for the churches across the world to function in the same capacity, inviting the weary and downtrodden to find hope and encouragement in Jesus. In this season, please take all the steps that are necessary for your safety. At the same time, please consider taking all the spiritual steps necessary for you soul to thrive and flourish.

Division In The Church

The mood was tense—obviously the meeting was called to help reconcile a significant conflict that happened in the church. Like lines drawn in the sand, each party sat on their respective sides of the main isle. The words of God’s people were not in towards adoration towards their savior but in accusation against their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. The battle ground was not over some important theological treatise or an immoral failing of a leader— it was over whether or not it was proper to eat meat. Through the Holy Spirit, Paul mediates the conflict: “One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables. [3] Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him” (Rom 14:2-3). 

It may sound silly that a congregation could be divided over what types of food they eat but the reality is that the modern church is facing a similar moment of division. Our battle is not concerning food but concerning the symbol of safety amidst a global pandemic: the mask. Pastors are recognizing that a few pieces of cloth could soon split their church if they do not deal with the issue with biblical wisdom and care. In this vein, I am thankful for Brett McCracken who wrote an excellent piece at The Gospel Coalition entitled “Church, Don’t Let Coronavirus Divide You.” My hope is that we may discover that the Bible actually has helpful wisdom on how to navigate such ethical grey matters.

The Gospel Allows Us To Yield

In Romans 14, Paul instructs all Christians, “As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions” (Rom 14:1). In this case, the one who is weak in faith is the one who has a soft conscience, believing that eating meat is personally wrong. How then should the church approach such a person? The people of God should welcome them because God in Christ has welcomed all of us (Rom 14:3). We stand united on every Lord’s Day not based upon our preferences or our worldly identities but upon the very fact that God has united us to Christ and therefore, we belong both to God and to one another. 

In a season of perpetual contradictory advice, let us not fall into the trap that what binds us together is our homogenous response to the Covid-19 pandemic. There will be godly Christians who choose to wear masks, social distance for longer, and take an abundance of safety precautions; there will also be godly Christians who do the opposite. Let us live in light of Paul’s exhortation, “[6] The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, since he gives thanks to God, while the one who abstains, abstains in honor of the Lord and gives thanks to God. [7] For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. [8] For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. [9] For to this end Christ died and lived again, that he might be Lord both of the dead and of the living” (Rom 14:6-9). What binds us together is the life, death, and resurrection of Christ and therefore, regardless of our opinions of how to handle this current crisis, we can stand united together in grace. 

We all have the opportunity to extend one another charity and grace in light of God’s constant extension of grace to us. We remember that Christ died and rose so that we who were his enemies might find forgiveness and life. In this complex season, let us not allow division to grow in our churches due to our personal preferences and convictions surrounding best practices. My hope and prayer, particularly for the people of Coram Deo, is that God may be shaping us into a people who are full of slow to speak, quick to listen, full of grace, and possess an abundance of patience for one another. 

In the midst of evil, suffering, anxiety, and death, where do you turn? Do you turn to God? Perhaps, more specifically, how do you turn to God? When life is overwhelming, when there is no light at the end of the tunnel, and sorrow crashes upon our soul, do you believe that God longs for you to come with honesty and transparency? Or do you believe that He wants a polished version of your anxious heart? 

In the 7^th century B.C., a relatively unknown minor prophet named Habakkuk was in a similar season of discouragement. There was evil in the land of Judah, pollution of God’s temple, and he was lamenting the effects of sin in God’s promised land. But, as modern people often think, what can such an old book from such an unknown man teach us about the complexities of modern life? Quite a lot actually. You see, Habakkuk was so confident in God, that he prayed with audacity and boldness. Listen to the lament of Habakkuk:

Habakkuk 1:2–3, 12

            [2] O LORD, how long shall I cry for help,

                        and you will not hear?

            Or cry to you “Violence!”

                        and you will not save?

            [3] Why do you make me see iniquity,

                        and why do you idly look at wrong?

            Destruction and violence are before me;

                        strife and contention arise. (ESV)

            [12] Are you not from everlasting,

                        O LORD my God, my Holy One?

                        We shall not die.

Habakkuk cries out to God with boldness, levying accusations against God that he tolerates evil. It is as if Habakkuk is screaming at the heavens, “Don’t you see the evil in the land! Can’t you see the injustice! Do you not care? Why do you look at evil and do nothing?” There is the true Habakkuk—wrestling, fighting, struggling, lamenting. Habakkuk continues with a rhetorical question, which, if you remember, is not a request for information but serves as an accusation framed in a question, “Are you not from everlasting, O Lord my God? Are you not infinite? I thought you were supposed to be this great God! I thought you were supposed to be wise and infinite. I guess your not.” 

Amazingly, God does respond to Habakkuk throughout the letter, “Don’t worry, Habakkuk. I am doing something about the evil and injustice in the world. I’m bringing judgment, but more importantly, I’m bringing salvation.” In the shadows of the minor prophet lie penetrating images of light, “For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” Even though life currently is filled with suffering and evil, remember that God’s ultimate goal for all things is restoration and redemption. 

One of the most beautiful things about the Bible is that is written for us, meaning that God has placed the laments of Habakkuk in the Bible for a reason: that we might learn to lament honestly with the prophet. In this season of Covid-19, will you accept the King’s invitation to lament and pray boldly and honestly? Will you come to him with your fear, discouragement, anxiety, anger, and complaining? God does not want your polished prayers but your genuine laments. 

Do you know why it is OK that you come to God with your honesty? Because His love for you is not dependent upon your piety but upon His faithfulness. God says to you, “I love you not for who you are but in spite of who are you.” God has made a covenant commitment to you; he is not leaving. Today, you can cry out with bold honesty, knowing that your Father stoops down on one knee and says, “I know, my child, what it feels like to be in a world full of lamenting. I’m here with you.” Will you go to him today?

Tears are often not my friend but on this particular day, I was sobbing like a young child. Nothing traumatic happened—no-one died, no one was suffering, no one injured me; I was simply driving in my car, listening to music. For some reason, on that particular day, God decided to use a song written by Andrew Peterson to open the floodgates of my soul in order that I may experience the grace of Jesus in a way like never before.

You see, for many, many years, I have struggled to rest. I have a driving desire to work and accomplish big things. I do not like idle time; I do not like wasting time. At times, this drive to work hard can be an absolute gift; other times, it can be a crushing reminder of constantly failing at something. There is always more to do, more to learn, more to explore, more ways to maximize time. For years now, if you were to ask me to give you one word to summarize my day, I would routinely reply: failure. I did not do enough, accomplish enough, read enough, memorize enough, be enough.

Yet, thankfully, the Lord is much more patient than I am, and has been chiseling away at my pride of self-reliance and my value system of achievement for quite some time. Back when I was a student at Covenant Seminary, God, in his mercy, began to reveal my insatiable desire for achievement, control, and perfection. Rather than rejoicing over a 94, I would determine to work harder to get a 97. In seminary, there was always more to do—more reading, more studying, more research, more memorizing—more, more, more. Even outside of school, was I not training to be a pastor? Then, I need to have a robust spiritual life, a godly presence in the home, a tender and firm heart with my children, a loving and caring disposition towards my wife. The pressure was insurmountable.

It is not as if Seminary created this drive in me, it just revealed how deep the cancer actually was in my heart; it exposed what I truly valued in life: achievement. Eventually, again, in the mercy and patience of God, achievement broke my soul and body. I was spiritually dry, irritated, angry; my body was showing signs of wear and tear: sleepless nights, weight gain, panic attacks, and night terrors. I could not control it anymore. I needed help. It was the first time, on my own volition, that I sought out a professional counselor to help me.

One Stinging Question

One crisp Autumn day, my counselor looked at my dead in the eyes and asked, “I want you to imagine for a moment that someone was talking to your wife or your family in the same way that you talk to yourself, what would you say? How would you respond?” I responded, as any ordinary person would, “I would tell them to stop. They had no right to talk to my wife or my family in that matter. They deserved kindness.” And Chad looked at me, as if Jesus was speaking directly to me, “Do you think God has given you the right to be harsh with yourself?” Partly relieved and partly embarrassed, I replied, “I guess not…”

You see, I had the tendency to walk into his office every week and talk about my inability to rest, “You can’t watch this movie, you could be using your time better. Stay up to study more. If you don’t do better, you will be a failure. You won’t be valued. This is where your ultimate success comes from.” He heard the constant internal dialogue in my head that demonstrated that I was ultimately being harsh with myself; I was not being kind to myself. While it may sound like psychobabble to some, my counselor’s words were exactly what I needed to hear: be kind to yourself. After all, Jesus says we should love our neighbors, as we love ourselves.

Growing up in the Reformed theological tradition, harshness and a self-critical spirit are almost prized. “Be killing sin,” Owen says, “or it will be killing you.” Contrition, mortification, and self-evaluation always seemed to be a virtue. While I believe that these things are still inherently valuable and true, I was also missing another piece of the puzzle: grace. My counselors words allowed me to experience grace in the moment rather than it being simply a subject I studied in the pages of the Bible or in good books. In other words, grace was awakening my soul to grace.

A Few Years Later

Like a good Father, God does not give up on us. My counseling sessions were three years ago and yet at the same time, I am still a recovering achievement addict. In this moment of the story, I am in the throes of full-blown church planting, which is fertile ground for an achievement junky to get his next fix. Eventually, the condemning self-talk gets to me, I am exhausted, distracted, irritated, and distant. Then, as I am mindlessly driving home, my Spotify playlist begins to play a song I’ve never heard before by Andrew Peterson: Be Kind To Yourself.

In hindsight, I know that Peterson is writing this song to his daughter, but in the moment, it was as if God the Father was singing this over me (Zephaniah 3:17). The song, which is actually quite simple, repeats over and over again: be kind to yourself, be kind to yourself, be kind to yourself. In a moment, the goodness and loving-kindness of Jesus floods my soul, I am overcome with tears, and I experience the kindness and grace of Jesus like never before.

Intellectually I understood Matthew 11, where Jesus says his burden is light, but it was not until that my moment that I experienced it. I constantly felt heavy-laden, burdened, and overwhelmed. Peterson’s words were like a healing arrow to my heart:

You can’t expect to be perfect
It’s a fight you’ve gotta forfeit
You belong to me whatever you do
So lay down your weapon, darling
Take a deep breath and believe that I love you

Be kind to yourself – be kind to yourself

Again, intellectually I knew I could not be perfect, but functionally I said, “But you can try really, really hard to be.” In that moment, I heard God say to me, “Lay down your weapon, lay down your self-reliance, take a deep breath, believe that I love you; therefore, be kind to yourself.”

When Jesus said in Matthew 5:44, “Love your enemies,” I always imagined that the enemy was external to me (which, it is, most of the time). But what if, for some of you who are like me, one of your greatest enemies is your self? What if your mind is constantly at war with yourself? What if your enemy is you? Peterson asks the same question:

How does it end when the war that you’re in
Is just you against you against you
Gotta learn to love, learn to love
Learn to love your enemies too

Eventually, the war that I was in with myself either led to my own defeat or my own freedom. Through the power of the Gospel, God has been freeing me, day-by-day, to the hope-inducing reality that I am in Christ, and I am loved right now. My prayer is that my story, which is still in progress, may encourage your heart to discover that God loves you right now.