Identifying ministry used to be a lot easier. The categories were simple—you were either a pastor or an evangelist on the domestic scene, and if perchance you ventured out of the country, you were a missionary. Within the local church, you might encounter Sunday School teachers, elders, or deacons. It was a paradigm out of the nineteenth century that carried pretty much into about two-thirds of the twentieth century. Then again, life in general was simpler and slower in most societal contexts. The post WWII atomic age changed everything. Specialization became the new way to do things–in the church too.
Since the exponential growth of the Charismatic Movement and its multiple iterations of the latter third of the twentieth century, ministry specialization changed dramatically and appears to have no end to its evolution. Now ministry titles and positions include worship leader, prophets (of various types), intercessor, dance ministry, dream interpreter, apostle (of various types), exhorter, short-term missionary, itinerant preacher, conference speaker, visual arts ministry, administrative pastors, counseling pastors, teaching pastors, and to be sure, many more I haven’t mentioned. God does give gifts of varying kinds to His people and we are all served better when each one does what God calls him/her to do. There’s a place for each one, and now even a title for everyone. Titles don’t mean a whole lot to me, but I think involvement by everyone is a good thing—unless it becomes the main thing.
When the focus of ministry becomes the development of expertise, uniqueness, specialization, or any other defining attribute instead of centered on hearing and obeying the voice of God, you can be sure that error will follow. Excellence is a good thing, and I certainly encourage it, but when it becomes the central goal, ministry loses its purpose and becomes performance. Great performances could be inspiring and most definitely entertaining, but truthfully, I gladly give up perfect performances for Jesus-centered ministry. It would be great to have both, but really, how often does that happen?
So frequently I read postings on social media that say things like: “Wow, the worship was off the hook!” or “What an awesome service! God really showed up!” (as if God was on vacation somewhere and decided to make a random visit). God now gets a weekly rating and rave reviews on Facebook or Twitter when the audience gets hyper-emotional or bizarre. Have we lost the meaning of why we gather? Shouldn’t we always expect the presence of God when we gather to worship Him?
I love when people sense the presence of God and respond with passion, but drumming up a frenzy with pounding, deafening music, together with smoke machines and special blitz lighting effects, and calling it worship is quite another thing. Worship for me is not about music at all. Isn’t worship supposed to be about adoring God—in Spirit and truth?
And has anyone noticed the “I-me-my” repetitiveness of current lyrics? Okay, so I’m not a millennial, a gen-X, Y, or Z. I’m from the “boomer” generation. I’m not looking to recoup the good old days, which by the way, were not so good, but are definitely old. I willingly want to learn new songs and rhythms, but I want them to glorify and honor Jesus. I want to sing songs with fellow believers that exalt the magnificence of the Lord (and I know those songs are out there somewhere), not just whining about brokenness, self-journey, or “my” whatever.
A song I heard recently went like this: “This is the way I battle.” That’s it. One sentence sung at least 25 times with no exaggeration. No context, no mention of God, Jesus, or the Spirit. I had no clue what “this” is, nor what the battle is, not to mention the fact the Jesus and the Word of God is my victory in all matters. The next two seemingly endless sung phrases were about it looking like being surrounded, but really being surrounded by him. Well, okay—surrounded by what or whom? And the “him” is left to conjecture. I cannot imagine what visitors could conclude from this murmuring dirge of single sentences over and over. Does anyone find this disturbing?
I want everyone in the Body of Christ to function in their gifts and calling, but setting up a paint studio on the church platform during a worship service and calling it prophetic painting? Really? If we conclude that painting is prophetic because the painter is inspired presumably by God, then all prayer, preaching, teaching, healing, dreaming, dancing, and every facet of living is also prophetic. Why then would we need prophets? What is prophecy, and how is it uniquely different from other ways God communicates with His people? I’m a firm believer in the prophetic, but my understanding of prophecy is what I read in Scripture—God communicating a specific message to His people (foretelling and/or telling forth) on a specific matter for edification, exhortation, and consolation (1 Cor 14:3). God gave Moses the pattern for a beautiful temple, but was that prophecy? Painting metaphoric pictures can be inspirational and talented artists do produce beauty and meaningful images, but calling it prophecy and imposing doctrine to give it validity or affirmation takes it to a whole other place.
Worshiping with all your might—yes, that includes dance—is wonderful. I want spirit-led dance for all believers, but now we have women (and very few men) dressed in sparkly costumes flinging flags on fishing poles, waving silky cloth, and carrying props like bespangled banners, swords, and crowns in processions while the audience watches the spectacle. I have real difficulty imagining all of this in the Upper Room of Acts or the churches of the early apostles. It really comes down to the same issue as the 8th-century conflict over the use of icons between iconoclasts and iconodules—an issue that keeps resurfacing in different forms throughout the centuries (huge in the Reformation). When I hear and read doctrines made about banners as “warfare praise,” whatever that is supposed to mean, I get nervous. Syncretism (merging of cultural or pagan practices into religious practice) is an insidious thing and creeps into the church life of well-meaning but biblically unaware souls.
I don’t think that the Spirit is easily grieved by our well-intended foolishness or grandiose concepts about what is glorious to God. If past historical cycles of excess and reformation are indicators of how we interpret and do church, I think a new Spirit-led reformation of believers who want the simple presence of God sans man-made claptrap may be on the horizon. When I travel to remote places where people do not have access to fancy living and all of the accoutrements of digital age technology in their churches, I see them worship from the simplicity of heart. The wealthy West can learn much from poor bush villages.
Far from being a luddite or cranky old lady who doesn’t like change, I simply like to stop and reflect on what we do and why we do it. I welcome the upcoming generations to express their love for God in ways that I may not have conceived, particularly when it glorifies God and is biblically sound. I believe we can have church life that includes multiple generations who find worth, honor, and appreciation among them. But for that to happen, we must keep our focus on the author and finisher of our faith—Jesus—instead of perfecting the products of our cultural demands.
Dr. Eldon Wilson, a Spirit-filled minister of well over 50 years, distills our faith into three Ws—worship, witness, and work. It’s a simple yet profound message. Simple ones usually are. As followers of Christ, we are called to worship God alone in Spirit and in truth; live our lives as a witness of the power of God unto salvation (holiness); and to do the works He calls us to do (like pray, preach the gospel, heal the sick, raise the dead, deliver the oppressed, bring justice for the widow and orphan—stuff that’s in the Bible). Instead of asking “What would Jesus do?” to provoke imagination, we might ask, “What did God say?” in His Word about what we call ministry and church life. Ultimately, that is what matters. His Word is final and eternal.