“I’m pretty sure, roughly 1/3 of my life has been spent standing in the middle of the room wondering what I came in here for.” – Author Unknown
Whoever wrote that must have been peaking into the window of my life. How is it possible from the time I decide to leave one room and enter another that my brain has decided to go on an extended holiday? And my house isn’t even that big?!
And to retrieve the purpose for my recent entry seems almost impossible…it’s gone! And I can stand there like a duck in thunder, frozen in time trying to remember what it was I was going to do! It’s one of life’s great cruelties. Has that ever happened to you? Ever had a senior moment? How maddening is that?
If churches in America are anything like people, (and how can they not be since they’re made up of people, duh?), we have suffered, as of late, this same kind of propensity. Many a church has forgotten why it’s here. We gather weekly in the same location; with the same familiar faces; we distract ourselves with programs, events, entertainment, and everything else that goes with what is hip and happening in today’s supposed “cutting edge” modern churches. We dazzle the crowds with light shows and performances on stage meant to impress and mesmerize the newcomers and the pew sitters; and yet amid all the noise and thunder of today’s contemporary church, what’s curiously missing is the rain.
We thrill ourselves when multitudes show up at a supposed revival to listen to a renown evangelist who through his own stage-presence, personality and eloquence moves the Nuremberg-rallied saints in attendance to cry, to laugh or just to feel, but when you ask, “What’s really changed” at the end of it, a petulant silence is the only answer. Can we really say we’ve had “revival” in our churches or in our communities if the same old hatreds and grudges between people remain? If nothing changes in how we live; in how others live, how can we call that emotion-soaked thing we do, revival?
What’s happened? How can it be that contemporary Christianity has been able to make such inroads into the secular culture surrounding it, while making so little impact upon it? Could it be that we’ve walked into the room of our current culture fully intending to do what is good, yet forgetting what we went in there for? Is the church the victim of a “senior moment”? In contrast, how did Paul, and only 12 other ordinary Christians in Ephesus, manage to give the entire western half, of what is now Turkey, the gospel without all the technological innovations we think we need to make an impact in our modern-day world?
If you take the time to study the impact of the early church on the ancient world, it’s stunning to see what changes came about because of the exercise of their passion for Jesus. One such example is Paul’s ministry in Ephesus chronicled for us by Luke in the Book of Acts, in chapter 19.
I must confess to you that I have always wanted to visit the ruins in Ephesus. To walk from the Agora (marketplace, the main street of the day), down Curete’s street through the Hercules gate, past Domitian square, past the shops where artisans and merchants sold their wares, to the great theater of Ephesus where the plays of Sophocles and Euripides would have been held. And then to view what remains of the great temple of Artemis; to imagine what the largest and most imposing structure ever constructed in Greek antiquity, looked like. I would like to stand there and try to imagine with my mind’s eye what the Apostle Paul saw as he lived and ministered there so many years ago.
But perhaps the greatest story about this ancient temple is not what it was when Paul was alive but what became of its end. Did you know that the columns that used to hold up the Temple of Artemis now grace a church building?
In the fifth century, Christians plundered the Temple of Artemis after an earthquake had devastated the city. They took many of its original columns with them back to Constantinople, (now Istanbul), to build the Cathedral of Hagia Sophia. When I think of that remarkable piece of history, I’m challenged with this thought: This why we exist as the church, in this place…at this time.
We exist as a church to do with the lost people around us, what the 5th-century church did with the columns of the Temple of Artemis.
We exist to take what was formerly pagan and devoted to the worship of false gods, and from it, build a church of committed disciples who are in love with Jesus Christ; whose passion of faith infects and changes the world around them.
It perhaps doesn’t matter what else we find ourselves doing as churches…if we don’t do what the early church did…what Paul did, then we’re not fulfilling the reason for our existence. We might spend our time and money to entertain ourselves; obtain the latest and greatest technology to impress the worldly; busy ourselves with building landscapes and cathedrals; coffee houses, libraries and skate parks. We might be intent on having multi-campuses; staff centers that rival Disney World. But we’re not here to do that! We’re not here to build empires to the egos of men! Men who stand behind disingenuous pulpits and enrich themselves through show-boat and mass manipulation. None of that is why we’re here.
We exist to do the will of God; to do what Jesus asked us to do. In short, we exist as a church to be disciple-makers. But what does that really mean; where do we begin?
Perhaps we ought, to begin with, some biblical excavation. Like spiritual archeologists, let’s sift through the ruins of our forebearers. Excavating not for pottery, or forgotten treasures, but for the passion of the early church; for their ardor which was so pure in its sincerity; so powerful in its impact and so needed by the church today.
To become a disciple-maker first begins with answering the call of Jesus. When Jesus called his disciples to follow him, it was a calling to more than just to know him and have a relationship with him. As much as our relationship with God brings us personal joy and fulfillment, the call of discipleship is always a call to go beyond our own personal concern for ourselves. The heart of Jesus is not just for his own people but for those who know nothing at all of who he is. As Jesus drew disciples to himself, he set before them a challenge, a command, a cause and a promise. Matthew 4:19 says, “’Follow me’, said Jesus, ‘and I will make you fishers of men.’” In other words, if you have the heart of a follower, you’re going to have the heart of a fisherman. Yet, as any fisherman would tell you, your responsibility as a fisherman doesn’t end simply when you’ve caught your limit. The question remains, “What do I do now with the fish God has given me?”
In 2 Timothy 2:2, Paul tells his young protégé, Timothy, that he needs to take the next step in his spiritual development. He writes to him,
“…the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses, entrust to reliable men who will be qualified to teach others.”
There’s a lot going on behind the scenes of that verse of the Bible. Understand, Paul knows his time is almost over (see 2 Timothy 4:6). The writing is on the wall, as it were. Paul knows that at any moment he could hear the footsteps of death approaching from down the hall; he knows he’s going to die, and that Timothy is going to have to carry on in the faith without him.
And so, Paul encourages Timothy with this revolutionary idea, “What I’ve done for you; you must now do for others.”
I can just hear Paul saying, “It’s time to pony up to the plate, my boy! I’m not going to be around here much any longer…I’ve given you everything you need to take the church of God into the future. So what I want you to do is: “What you have heard me say, so many times before, you must now entrust to others.”
What may not be readily noticeable from verse 2 is that it was graduation day for young Timothy!
What you’re seeing in Scripture at this point is that the baton is now being past to a younger generation. Timothy is no longer the student, now he’s the teacher; he’s not the disciple anymore, he’s the Rabbi. He’s graduated from apprentice to master.
Paul is essentially saying, “I want you to become a disciple-maker Timothy! To take what I’ve taught you; gather a group of guys around you; and what I poured into you…you now, pour into them.”
May I ask you a question? Has your faith progressed to the point where you’re doing that?
You see, there’s a Principle of Christian Discipleship to be excavated here, and it tells us this: At some point, the student must graduate to become the teacher! Discipleship demands maturity. So, whatever level of spiritual maturity, you are currently at, I guarantee you God has more to give you, and it involves the transfer of the faith to another.
Do you want more out of your Christian life? Here’s the irony: If you want more, you’ve got to become less. Life cannot be only about you anymore! Sorry to burst your bubble! But this is this is discipleship. And while salvation is free; discipleship is costly. It demands that you give yourself away.
Did you hear that? Did you hear his voice? He’s calling you to come and follow him…even in this. I wonder. What will your answer be?