For any of you out there contemplating the start of a new church, I have a bit of advice.  Listen to me now.  This is important.  Tuck it away somewhere where you can look back on it regularly.  This isn’t shared in any of the church planting books or boot camps, but I’m telling you, this little nugget will save you a massive migraine.

Building a church with people who really want to follow Jesus is a bad idea.

I know.  Sounds crazy.  But it’s true.

Jesus followers are bad church builders.  Well, at least the kind of “church” a lot of us immediately sketch in our minds when we hear the familiar word.

As a church leader, prefer those who are just looking for some friends.  Those longing for relational connections with a few God overtones.  Those who want to build their social hierarchy around a church culture.  They’re so much easier to deal with.

Look for people who are settled. In control.  Those who have painted a vivid, stable picture of their futures – their destinies, what they want for their lives – and then just want to sprinkle a little God into the sauce like oregano or thyme (seriously, isn’t thyme is such an under-appreciated seasoning?).

Passion is good.  Passion for you. For your sermons and preferred style of worship.  For your kids program or the layout of your building. This kind of passion stays put. On course.  And barring an unforeseen transfer or poorly calculated misstep on your part (i.e. changing the color of the carpet in the lobby), stays solidly attached to your congregation.

Stay far away from Jesus followers.

They’re the ones connected directly to Christ, not just your church organization. The ones that quit serving their own egos.  That derive life from Jesus as their internal source, and begin listening and responding to His leading.

They start dreaming.  Creating.  Taking action.  Following.  Jesus.

And that’s dangerous, because sometimes He will ask them to do things that don’t benefit you. That destabilize your organization.  That may throw off your church growth game plan.  For instance…

They might invest $18,000 to bring an Ethiopian orphan into their home instead of donating to the capital campaign fund.

They may spend an evening helping a single mom clean out her garage instead of attending the church prayer meeting.

Sometimes they’ll even do things like move to other cities or countries because Jesus tells them their presence is required there. Crazy!

Yep, Jesus followers are terrible church builders.  I suggest you stay away from them.  They’re just too unstable. Too radical.  Too Kingdom minded.  Too dead to their own agendas.  Too busy building The Church to always help you focus on building your church.  They’re far too enamored with following Jesus.

I was a sheltered kid. I admit it.

The 10 years between my little brother and I meant we really grew up like only children.  Get good grades. Practice the piano. Invest in our local church. Those were my responsibilities. And I was good at them.

So when my wife and I first got married, my 21 year old resume of domestic experience was extremely limited (as in missing). Not only did I not do anything about the piles of laundry on the family room floor, I literally didn’t even see them.

You mean your underwear drawer doesn’t just magically refill itself? Does the federal government know about this?

I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I had never learned to take responsibility for these things. Can’t blame mom (because she reads these posts). I was just oblivious.

And that’s the way a lot of us treat church. Yep, I’m connecting these dots.

Every week we sit by, talk to, smile at, sing with, even volunteer alongside people. Lots of them.

But it’s safe to say very few of us ever look around the auditorium and think, “hmmmmm, I should take responsibility for that guy.  Maybe I should personally invest in helping him develop his connection to God. What do I have to offer?”

(so yes, in this analogy the people are like the underwear…roll with me)

Nope.  We may consider things like, “Hey, I should get him in that class.” Or “I should introduce them to the pastor.” Or “I should give her a copy of that book.” (Or most likely, “where should we go for lunch today?”).

And just like me, we step over the pile of unfolded laundry and find our spot on the comfy couch to watch the ballgame.

Blind.

Oblivious.

Because it’s never been our responsibility, we literally don’t even see it.

But what if I told you one of the best ways to grow your own relationship with God is to take personal responsibility for helping someone else grow theirs?

What if we stopped waiting for a better class, a better book, or a better sermon, rolled up our sleeves, and got personally involved in someone else’s life?

What if we stopped waiting for “mom” to take care of the piles of unfolded laundry all around us?

What if we started being the church to one another?

Listen to the latest City Community Church message on the subject:

The Story of Two: You Feed Them

The problem with the church isn’t poor leadership.

It’s not large, debt drowned buildings.

Or runaway wall-street-like organizational models.

The problem isn’t ignorance of injustice.

Old-fashioned stodgy tradition.

Conflicting expressions of “worship.”

Or a lack of authentic community.

The problem isn’t passionless pastors.

Anemic teaching.

The wrong model of discipleship.

Misaligned partnerships.

Or climbing in bed with politics.

It’s not myopic strategy.

Apathetic fat-cat church boards.

Lack of creativity.

Or cultural irrelevance.

All these things may describe churches with problems. But not one of them is The Problem with the church.

That’s because the unequivocal, undeniable, unmistakable problem with the church is…

No, not me the guy writing this post (although I surely play my part). Me the concept. Me the pursuit. Me the idol.

There is an insatiable human desire to recreate a gospel that serves this Me. To build a Me-kingdom (perhaps on a mass of underpriced swampland in Central Florida). Formulating, casting, and then bowing down to a god that serves my projection of the way the world should be. A god that will go along on my ride. To my chosen destination.

This Me-god is made in my image. Made for my purpose.

That, my friends, is the problem with the church.

It’s full of Me.

Everything else is just a symptom.

But it’s easier to blame the system. The organization.  The money.  The style.  The committees.  It’s safer that way.  To point at a lifeless structure.  At them.  Because Me doesn’t like to deal with Me. It’s more cost-effective to blame everything else.

The cure to this illness doesn’t lie in the newest trends. The latest books. Or a throwback to good ol’ George Bush strategery. It’s more radical than that.

Me has to surrender.  To come out from hiding.  To give it up.  Me has to embrace it’s cross.  Me has to die (no, not literally for  you Jim Jones fanatics out there). Then Christ can truly live.

So the problem with the Church isn’t really a problem with the Church.  It’s a problem with Me.

Thankfully, a problem Jesus came to solve. If Me will just let Him.

I’ve noticed an interesting, little phenomenon through the last year of consistent blogging:  people respond when I post my thoughts on the dysfunction, systematization, or abuses of the organized Church (and when I use words like “suck” in my blog titles).

That’s not difficult to unwind.

The Church is often deserving of criticism. And those of us longing to emerge from a predominantly cultural acceptance of Christ into a more vital, life-breathing relationship with Him, have had to take a long and honest look at what we’ve truly embraced.

We’ve had to point at it.  Name it.  Call it what it was. And often times distance ourselves from it.

It’s true.  The Church can be:

hypocritical

manipulative

money-hungry

behavior driven

backward

controlling

institutional

stale

abusive

self-serving

self-righteous

(fill in your favorite missing adjective)

And I don’t think pointing at the truth is unwarranted.

The Old Testament prophets violently confronted poor spiritual leadership.  Jesus Himself had more than passive insults to throw at the religious hierarchy of His day.

But it’s so easy to chuck stones at the institution. To critique the caricature.  To cynically slam the fundamentalist control-mongers.

(and let’s be honest, it’s a lot of fun, too)

It’s much scarier to take a hard look at ourselves.

Here’s the deal:  I am the church. And so are you if you claim to follow Jesus Christ.  So perhaps we should focus first on embracing our personal responsibility to the Kingdom rather than just gleefully pointing at the Emperor with his pants around his ankles.  Maybe we should repent of our own dysfunction, hypocrisy, and control issues. Remove the “plank” from our eye so we can see clearly to help The Church at large.

Let’s continue to wrestle. To challenge.  To embrace the tension.  To call the spades what they are.  (I plan on it).

Let’s just always be willing to start with the me before we take on the we.

Shame comes in all shapes and sizes:

A big zit on your nose.

A past full of brokenness and abuse.

A rip in the seam of your pants.

A failed marriage.

Silly or serious, we’ve all felt it. The exposure of a vulnerability or apparent shortcoming that drives us to run away. To cover up. To hide. And unfortunately, The Church (my church, even me personally) can foster environments of shame, even when we’re not intentionally trying to.

It makes sense. The Church, a place of grace, hope, and unconditional love, is also an environment full of expectations. Standards of behavior naturally emerge in any culture, but engaging in Church culture comes with a built-in assumption of moral superiority. We profess faith in God and innately feel our lives should reflect that (even if we don’t).

And while some shame is understandably innate, some is undeniably overt. We’d be lying to ourselves if we didn’t admit there are many in the Church who willingly use shame as a means to control. To maintain power over people. To protect their personal preferences. To manipulate others towards their desired outcomes.

Innate or overt, when we fall short (which we always do), shame moves in. Becomes a constant companion. And shame is a horrific house guest.

God deals in conviction, not shame. Shame is based in condemnation, in pointing out deficiencies with the intent of rejecting, judging, or looking down on another. And Jesus didn’t come into the word to do that:

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. (John 3:17 NLT)

Yet in so many church environments shame is still a primary motivator, filling our sanctuaries with guilty people. Hiding people. Manipulated people. Self-righteous people. Frightened people. Fake people. Or in more and more cases, empty seats.

So how do we know when God is convicting or when shame is condemning? Here’s some thoughts:

Shame is an ego-protection mechanism that focuses on how we appear to others.
Conviction is an inward re-alignment with who God is and has called us to be.

Shame conforms us to man-made expectations.
Conviction leads us to repentance.

Shame causes us to create false perceptions of reality.
Conviction leads us to openly face who we really are.

Shame manipulates and imprisons.
Conviction heals and frees.

Shame misuses aspects of truth to manage and control.
Conviction reconnects us to absolute truth.

Shame formulates outward behavioral modification.
Conviction births true inward transformation.

Shame pushes us towards self-protection.
Conviction pushes us towards Christ.

Shame asks us to do the work.
Conviction drives us towards the One who already did it all.

Which one is driving you? What is being fostered in your environments? What do you think?