Reflecting on the Journey
The church proclaims Christ, cross, and love!
Today’s sermon has been months in the making! In fact, I’ve started it four or five times, already. But for one reason or another, I’d set it aside, each time, and go on to something else. Then, last Sunday, during the council meeting, something was said that stirred up the idea, all over again. We were talking about this. Online worship. How we’d never done it, before. How we, probably, would never have tried … if it wasn’t for the pandemic. We talked about the trials, the tribulations. And somewhere along the line, one of us said something. More tongue in cheek, than anything. “I guess we’re all televangelists, now.” We chuckled. We chortled. We moved on. But that comment stayed with me. Like a sandbur. Like a goat’s head. And it got me thinking. Not so much about televangelists, as about the church. Here in America.
You see, we’re a congregation, a denomination – for better, for worse – that lives in the shadow of television. When I began my ministry, the televangelists were preachers like Oral Roberts and Jimmy Swaggart, like Robert Schuller and Jim Bakker. Nowadays, it’s Joel Osteen and Kenneth Copeland and Franklin Graham who come to mind. Not only are they the voice of American Christianity. They’re the face of it, as well. And they’re what comes to mind when someone says, “Church.” Well, not so much church as faith, as believing. So, when I heard those words … that we’re all televangelists … I cringed.
You see, there’s more to evangelism than what we see on the tele! More to it than drawing a crowd and entertaining the multitude. More to it than the ratings. More to it than most preachers – and most crowds – are willing or able to go. Popular religion here in America isn’t concerned, foremost and first, with substance and content. Popular religion here in America is all about the show! Shiny. Polished. Everything scripted and choreographed. Lighting. Camera angles. It’s there in every worship service. Entertainment Evangelism. That’s what the pastor of one of the few Lutheran megachurches calls it. And we eat it up. It’s the performance that matters. The program, the production, is what keeps us coming back for more. The preacher is an actor. And the congregation? The audience. And when all is said. And all is done. And the curtain, finally, falls. There is very little evangel. Very little good news. Very little gospel.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s fun. It’s enjoyable. There’s plenty to make us smile. Things that make us tap our toes and clap our hands. But at the end of it all, what’s remains are the shoulds and oughts and musts … rules and regulations … warnings and ultimatums … But there’s very little Jesus. There’s very little cross. There’s very little love. We’re all televangelists, now. I thought, “Dear Lord. Sweet Jesus. I hope not.”
Of course, that could be one of the reasons we had to sell our building, two years ago. One of the reasons we’re getting smaller and growing older. One of the reasons our kids and our grandkids and great grandkids – three lost generations – aren’t here. Compared to everyone else, we’re boring! We’re not exciting! Not entertaining! They’ve grown up with television and movies. They’ve grown up with special effects and computer-generated imagery. All we have is words. All we have is a promise. All we have is a gospel. All we have is Jesus. All we have is a cross. All we have is love. All we have is love.
But, of course, we look around us. We see the big. We see the growing. And we know they aren’t us. And we wonder what we’re doing wrong. Never guessing it could be a result of that “American Exceptionalism” we talk so much about. Rugged. Bootstrapped. Individual. But, also, shallow. Shallow and superficial. The popular doesn’t look for our “better angels.” It looks for the least common denominator. The popular puts style over substance. Appearance over content. And, apparently, it “works.” It gets results. At least, in the short term. Their pews are filled. While ours belong to someone else.
I’ve been to a lot of concerts. George. Garth. Carrie. Martina. One among thousands, tens of thousands. And I have to tell you, those concerts were religious experiences. For a few hours, I was caught up to the third heaven, as Paul might say. I was entertained. And I was inspired. And none of it … NONE of it was good news … NONE of it was gospel … NONE of it was evangel … There was nothing about Jesus … There was nothing about the cross … There was nothing about love …
While we’re here in the wilderness … here on the outside looking in … we need to come to terms with something … God isn’t asking us to become like them … God doesn’t expect us to become bigger … or better … or brighter … or more … God expects us to be loved. God expects us to be loved. And god expects us to be us. To become who, what we already are. Who and what we have always been. God doesn’t want us to entertain crowds and amuse multitudes. God, simply, wants us to proclaim Jesus. To proclaim the cross. To proclaim love … charity … grace … Not just in a temple or in a cathedral, but wherever we might be. Even in places like this!
The temptation is to become like all the rest. It’s American to compete … to compare … But that’s not who we’ve been or who we are. That’s not why we’ve been here. Why we’re still here. We’re here to do what they don’t. We’re here to do what they won’t. We’re here to do what they can’t. We’re here to proclaim Christ! Christ and Christ crucified! We’re here to proclaim that love! To each and every! For one and all!
My friends, that’s the gospel! That’s the evangel! The evangel of evangelist! The evangel of evangelism! On tv and off! That’s what we proclaim and hear! What we administer and receive! That’s what we believe in! That’s what we stake our life on! That’s what we become! So, I guess it’s true. We, probably, have become evangelists. But then, again, isn’t that what we’ve always been!