Once in college, I found myself as part of a group that was blazing a trail through the hills of eastern Kentucky. To call our hike “treacherous” is an insult to the Appalachian Mountains. “Difficult,” “brutal,” “perilous” … the thesaurus lacks a good synonym to convey just how hard it was.
We were navigating a narrow cliff; a wall of rock to our right and a steep descent into certain death on our left. When we weren’t pushing aside thick forest branches and thorny weeds, we were trusting the tread on our boots wouldn’t betray us by giving way to the mud under our feet, sending us to a slippery demise with our bodies forever unrecovered in the crevasse of a deep ravine.
Our guide led us to where we were going, incident-free (save for a few scratches on our face) and the view from our destination was one of those majestic scenes that take your breath away. The beauty and awe made us forget all about the precarious journey. It didn’t make the journey less hard, but certainly made it worthwhile.
Upon reflection, the whole event brought to mind the words of Jesus at the end of the Sermon on the Mount: The gate is narrow, and the way is hard that leads to life, and few are those who find it. Jesus then urges us to embrace that—enter through that narrow gate, and walk the way that is hard; much like the majestic view from the top of a Kentucky peak, the “life” Jesus promises will be worth the difficulty.
But it is not a journey we take alone. Disciples of Jesus are all on the same hard path together, and calls for unity and solidarity are among the appropriate measures of successful navigation toward and through that narrow gate. It does not follow that we decrease the demands of discipleship: The same sermon reminds us to be perfect as our Heavenly Father is perfect, and the New Testament is replete with ethical expectations. But we also shouldn’t make it more difficult than it already is. The Appalachian Mountains gave us enough obstacles; there was no need to deliberately put a boulder in front of the foot of the person behind me.
All of these thoughts were brought back to mind for me this week in two separate scenarios where otherwise good Christian people seem to have laid unnecessary obstacles in front of others on a path that is already laden with difficulties.
The Asbury Revival has gotten a lot of media attention. Not having been there myself, I must rely on the accounts of others who were. In light of that, it is probably best to give the benefit of the doubt to the faithfulness of disciples in Kentucky with first-hand experience. By all accounts, it seems like a genuine move of the Spirit where people were confessing and repenting of sins, renewing and recommitting their spiritual lives, and sharing a genuinely transcendent experience with God. Doubtless, charlatans with less-than-noble purposes perhaps infiltrated the Asbury ranks, but it is not for me to point them out; rather, it is for me to celebrate the good that has happened and to covet the same for my own community.
But that is not what others would have you believe. For instance, on a video titled “The Asbury Revival—8 Crucial Questions We Need to Ask,” a well-known and respected commentator spends 10 minutes discrediting the experience with language such as “manipulative” and “suspicious,” all under the guise of “testing all prophecies.” He insists, “I'm just asking the question,” but a question like “Is it because the Spirit is moving, or is it simply being manipulative?” is not benign. Further, the “facts” he reports on during those 10 minutes are all hearsay, complete with phrases such as “I think…” and “it doesn’t seem…” and “I heard that....” No facts, just speculation.
He is not the only one rendering a harsh verdict, but seems to give voice to an entire wing of people who reject the whole event. Without question, eternity will reveal the long-term impact of the experience at Asbury. In the meantime, I can’t help but feel that these self-proclaimed guardians of orthodoxy prefer the posture of the disciple in Mark 9:38 who proudly shared with Jesus that he tried to stop someone from casting out demons in Jesus’ name because “he was not following us.” Jesus, however, would have none of it: “The one who is not against us is for us.” Why make a hard way to a narrow gate harder by putting boulders in front of someone’s feet?
The other event centers around Saddleback Church and their recent removal from the Southern Baptist Convention. Rick Warren, the megachurch’s founding pastor, has recently changed his stance on women’s roles in ministry. Thus, Saddleback Church, against the standards of the SBC, has begun unapologetically ordaining women. The governing body of that denomination decided the church has gone too far and pronounced Saddleback no longer in step with the denomination.
I belong to a denomination that has openly and unapologetically ordained women since its inception, but I can respect the opinion of those who disagree, and I would like to think we could have charitable discussion ending in clarity if not agreement. Alas, that is not to be the case.
In a podcast with Russell Moore, Rick Warren revealed that he would appeal the SBC’s decision; not for his own or Saddleback’s sake, but because he hopes to stand up for pastors who are “scared to death of this inquisition,” and stand up for the countless women whose gifts are being “stymied.” That sounds heroic; it probably is. But he followed that up with a statement that I can’t help but feel is either careless or hubris—maybe both: “We don’t need the Southern Baptist Convention; they need the 6000 purpose driven churches that … are in our convention.”
I’m not sure what he meant by that, and Russell Moore didn’t follow-up. I might be wrong, but that seems to carry the weight of arrogance, as if to say, “Our network of churches is so important to the Convention that the rest of the denomination will suffer great harm if it loses us.” Perhaps it was an off-the-cuff remark spoken carelessly, not reflecting what he actually believes. Nevertheless, it smacks of, “You are nothing without us.”
At least one writer took it that way, and decided to respond. The Gospel Coalition picked up an article (and then later removed it) titled, “Rick Warren Has Done the SBC a Great Service.” That headline tricked me into believing that this author was willing to recognize a charitable discussion about an important subject. Even if Warren’s arguments were found to be unconvincing, the SBC would at the very least have some food for thought and a willingness to engage in dialogue that might benefit both sides and advance the kingdom of God. My mind pushed further, imagining a subtitle might have read, “Even if we still disagree, he has caused the Convention to entertain a valuable discussion.”
That was not the gist. Rather, sowing more seeds of discord, the author took the gloves off. “Warren has just given us a preview of the kinds of arguments that he and his supporters are going to make…. Anyone who plans to be a messenger to the SBC this June needs to listen to Warren’s arguments now so that they will be ready to resist them when the manipulation begins in earnest on the floor of the convention.” Then after reviewing the arguments, he sums up saying, “My hope and prayer are that we will all remember these truths when Warren and his supporters try to make us forget in New Orleans this summer. He has done us a great service by showing us his hand up front.”
This is not the language of humility, kindness, or partnership in the gospel, it is the language of war. This whole exchange is the theological equivalent of, “Let's take this outside!”
Granted, Rick Warren’s hubris, whether intentional or not, is one man’s attitude. And the writer who retorted back is just one writer. Nevertheless, they both give voice to attitudes held by faithful disciples of Jesus. (At the very least, there is a content editor at The Gospel Coalition who read that article and thought, “He speaks for us!”) And there is a very high likelihood that neither “side” will back down, and the gulf between them will only widen.
I feel like there is something deeper at stake in both scenarios. It’s one thing to have legitimate questions about the validity of a revival (though I can’t imagine what incentive Asbury would have to fake it). But the pushback against Asbury really isn’t about revival at all. The common denominator among detractors is, “We wouldn’t have done it like that.” To me, they share a kindred spirit with the jealous Jews in Acts who drove Paul out of town because he started to gain a following of converts. And the swelling discord between Saddleback and the SBC is not really about women in ministry. Both sides are entering a room expecting (hoping for?) a fight. Rather than using their words to diffuse tension, they seem prepared for war.
Egos, not orthodoxy, are at stake, and the greatest casualty is the Christian witness. Forget what Jesus has to say about the world knowing we are his disciples by our love for one another. Forget about forgiving your neighbor seventy-times-seven times. We don’t trust Paul: he tells us it is the kindness of the Lord that leads us to repentance (Romans 2:4), but we know better. Kindness Shmindness! we tell ourselves. Being right and putting them in their place—that is what will lead them to repentance!
This is not how it is done. This is not the way to have a discussion. And in a culture where Christianity has already lost considerable ground in the eyes of our peers, the way these things are being broadcast only confirms their suspicion that we are not people they want to be associated with. I will forever be convinced that taking God’s name in vain has nothing to do with saying, “God" or "Christ" or "Lord" as a colloquial interjection. Instead, the command could be paraphrased, “Do not act in such a way that others would say, ‘If that is what it means to follow Jesus, count me out.’” My great fear in light of this, and these types of discussions, is that on the day of Christ’s judgment, it will be more bearable for Sodom and Gomorrah than for us.
We have forgotten that the way to the narrow gate of life is already hard. Then, the way we use our platforms to discredit, call out, and dismiss fellow believers makes an already-hard way significantly harder. Worse, those who rail so strongly against a revival, and who are presently preparing to take the gloves off at a denominational convention, seem perfectly willing to toss the perceived “other” off the cliff entirely. When we leave a trail of bodies in the crevasse of a deep ravine, our appeals for others to join us on a hard journey to a narrow gate is laughable.
We blazed a trail to the majestic peak of a Kentucky mountain. The way was hard, but I was blessed to have others lending their support and help along the way. Boulders, branches, and briers were already on the path, and those with me didn't add more. Instead, they knew the way was hard enough on its own and refused to make it more difficult. The way is already hard. Will we clear the way for others to join us, or will we toss them off the cliff because they aren’t walking the way we want them to walk?
Thank you for this one.
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