L. Dwight Turner
Much has been written of late regarding the demise of the institutional church. As a fresh wind blows across the land, Christians in America are experimenting with a variety of new ways of “doing church,” some holding much promise and others about as fulfilling as an empty Coke bottle. Still, in spite of this recent trend and all the promise it indeed holds, I think we can safely assume that, at least for the foreseeable future, a large portion of our mission of incarnating Christ’s ongoing work on earth will be done in the context of the “traditional” church.
However, as the new century progresses and our culture moves farther and farther away from being a part of “Christendom”, it becomes apparent that the form the church takes in these challenging times will be much different, particularly as it applies to approaching the youth culture. Much of what we have done in past models of the church has been well meaning but quite ineffective. This is a difficult truth for many of us to face, but face it we must. Otherwise, we will continue to do what we have always done and continue to get results that are less than desirable. David Foster, author and pastor of a large church in Nashville, gives a vivid example of what church was like for him in his younger years and his response to the programs of his church.
I was raised in a typical county seat church in the south whose mission centered on fear, guilt, and manipulation. Like most guys my age, I viewed the whole church thing with a jaundiced eye. Church was little more than an obligatory nod to God every seven days. It was a cheap form of fire insurance against burning forever in the fiery flames of a devil’s hell. So I went to church, lied about reading my Bible, made a “decision” for Jesus, endured boring sermons, and got with the program like all the other good little religious robots. After all, acquiescing to the church-thing one hour a week seemed like a small price to pay for an eternity of bliss and happiness in heaven, especially since death seems pretty much unavoidable.
Personally, I can relate to much of what Foster says. My experiences with the church, particularly in my early teenage years, were far from the ideal. When I am brutally honest about it, I must confess that my motivations for regular church attendance were less than that of a spiritual giant. My reasons for sacrificing that greatest of joys were not what you would find in an autobiography of a saint like Francis or Augustine. No, the inner magnet drawing me to first the Baptist Mission in Nokomis, Florida and, a little later, the Nazarene Church in Venice, Florida, was not a holy desire and, unless the Celestial Canine took a very creative disguise, it was not the famed Hound of Heaven. No, my motivations were of a baser nature. My reasons for crawling out of bed on Sunday morning were, in all candor:
Paulette Boatright and Diane Shattuck.
I won’t bore you with the sordid details of my attraction to and subsequent pursuit of these two fine young ladies. It is sufficient at this point to say that Paulette, in all of her pristine, 13-year-old glory, kept me at the Baptist Mission for over six months and, after that pre-adolescent fancy faded into a haze of disappointment and fizzling hormones, Diane appeared. The fact that her family were fundamentalist and, worse still, hanky-waving holiness folks, didn’t matter. What mattered was Diane and I hit it off. I bought a pack of white hankies with my allowance and went with her family to the Nazarene Church for close to a year. So, you can see, just as the Prodigal Son returned to his Father out of less than saintly motives, I, too, returned to God’s house more out of pubescent fire than any flame of the Holy Ghost.
As the Church morphs into something more effective and enlightened in its response to the realities of postmodern culture, we will quickly discover that the newer generations are looking for things of a much different nature and quality than what we Boomers sought and are seeking. And we should not be at all surprised when these younger Christians, sincere but much different than past norms, are quite vocal about what they think they need. David Foster, in his fascinating book Renegades for God, relates the following, which speaks clearly to this issue:
God is too good and life is too short to allow rigid, self-righteous, do-gooders with a religious agenda keep you from Him. So if you’re done worrying about what “they” say or do, then join the club. If you’re weary of the morality police and their cellophane sainthood, then lean in and let’s talk. If you’re repelled by the pointless, prosaic preaching of self-appointed prophets with a Messiah complex, then you, my friend, might just be a closet renegade and today could be your coming out party…I’m calling for the creation of a renegade nation where love is the ethic and freedom is the goal. Declare your independence from lazy legalism, feeble faith, and domesticated religion. If you suspect that deep down inside you lives a vibrant, vital, virtuous soul ready to rid itself of shame-bound religion, then you’re a renegade ready to step forth free and fully engaged in the art of the J-life. You can love God passionately and with deep conviction without becoming an arrogant, self-righteous, know-it-all.
As we encounter postmodern, post-Christian culture, in whatever setting God places us, we may be called upon to challenge, and at times, dismantle religious sacred cows of the past. Not because these relics were bad or ill-conceived, but instead, because they no longer give milk that will sustain our mission of bringing Christ’s message to the world in which we find ourselves. Again, Foster speaks:
An R4G (Renegade for God) dares to question the conventional wisdom and spiritual infallibility of the religious elite. “They” fear your freedom and at the same time display little confidence in the gospel’s power to renovate the human heart, renew the mind, and redirect the renegade spirit within toward the epic, ethical purposes of God. “They” want only mindless, spineless adherents who spout out an endless stream of “praise the Lords” as you pack their pews and fill their offering plates.
Regardless of their motives, their tastes, and other generational inclinations, one fact remains true regarding this emerging horde of younger Christians: The Church belongs to them.
Yes, ultimately the church belongs to Christ, it is, after all, his bride. Still, the fact remains that in terms of earthly ownership, the church belongs to the younger set of Christians. Many of us old codgers don’t want to see this or accept it. I think this resistance, deep down where it is really real, stems from our denial of a very central truth: 25 years from now, most of us 60-year-old pundits probably won’t be around. Some of us might be, but our days of church leadership will have long been over. Instead, we will find ourselves, however subtle or ceremoniously, put out to ecclesiastical pasture.
What I am getting at here is the reality that we older Christians must now deal with. Our greatest challenge is one of “letting go.” Granted, this may seem difficult and it surely will seem unfair to many of the Builder generation and the front end of the Boomers. Unfair as it may seem, it is the major task before us at this time. We have to let go and give the reins of the church to a younger crowd. It is not so much a question of one group being more important than another. It is, however, a question of significance.
The younger generations are going to be around a quarter century from now. For the rest of us, this is an iffy call at best. In this sense, at least in terms of the survival of the church, the responsibility of moving forward rests with those generations behind us.
If you would like more insight into this issue, I would highly recommend reading Gordon MacDonald’s book, Who Stole My Church? MacDonald tackles this thorny issue head on in a creative and attention-holding manner. MacDonald has written the book in a highly readable format, one that lends itself very well to the topic. Rather than writing a standard didactic non-fiction work, the author has arranged the book in a fictional setting in which the pastor of a church is facing significant friction from a cadre of older, active members who are resistant to the changes being brought about by younger congregants with a different focus. In order to gently educate these resistant members to what is going on and why, the pastor forms a “Discovery Group” which meets on Tuesday nights to dig deeply into the matter. The group also serves as a venue where these committed church members can vent their ongoing frustrations about changes in the church. The fact that MacDonald puts the book together this way makes an otherwise difficult subject highly readable and even entertaining.
The book is subtitled, “What to do When the Church You Love Tries To Enter the 21st Century.” MacDonald well understands that the future of the church lies with the younger generation, not with the older folks, no matter how loyal and committed they might be. This view is not to downplay or trivialize the needs of the older members in a church, but instead, to break through the church’s denial system and help us all see that unless the needs of the younger people come to the forefront, the church will go the way of the dinosaur.
© L.D. Turner 2008/All Rights Reserved
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