The R-Rated Church Service

I'm doing something I've never voluntarily done before. Leaving my cozy little corner of the world, I'm off to visit a church and a denomination into which I have never set foot. "Yes, this will be good for me; maybe it'll add zest to otherwise boring life," I muse as I travel along one of Alabama's finest of streets.

I'd read the church page of the local newspaper on Friday and had found a church service which began at 10:30, and, interestingly enough, I'd learned that both services, the "traditional," and the "contemporary" would both be running concurrently. The newspaper had shown no sermon title, so, "I'm really living in reckless abandon," I think to myself in self-adulation as the car speeds (within the limits allowed by Alabama authorities) toward my self-imposed ecclesiastical appointment.

I arrive and park the car, noting that a rarity is happening – I'm late (but the reason why is another self-imposed story). Not to worry; before the sermonic meat, there will be lots and lots of preliminaries.

I enter the beautiful building and, after going through a labyrinth of halls long enough to baffle Theseus, I find the auditorium; a smiling and friendly usher hands me a bulletin, saying, "Do you want a program?" I notice that the bulletin is bloated with more events crammed into the one week to come than a month at Madison Square Garden. I figure I could be at the church every day and night of my life if I tried to attend everything.

There are three hundred or so in the spacious, attractive, well-lit auditorium and they're enjoying listening to two teens, a boy and a girl, giving a report about something or other. I quickly take a seat next to a lady in one of the comfortable pews and settle in for the service. The teens are through with their report.

A song leader with a great voice and forceful leadership takes us through a hymn. Then children, carrying cups, pass down the two large aisles taking an offering to buy school supplies ("backpacks," we're told by the youth pastor) for children whose parents can't afford them.

As the children bring the money, now secure in the cups to the front and stand before the congregation, the youth pastor assures the kids that, since "You have given a cup of cold water in Jesus' name, you will not lose your salvation."

Whoa! Jesus never said that; He said, " . . . if anyone gives a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is My disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward” (Matt. 10:42). The congregation has just had its theological pocket picked. The youth pastor has deleted a word from the Bible and substituted another, a totally different word. (There is a difference; salvation is a gift, not a reward--Rom. 6:23; Rom. 4:4-5). Did anybody notice?

A man with a trumpet appears and plays a hymn and does so very, very well. The music has done its mystical work; we're now prepared for the sermonic meat as the pastor rises to serve the preachment of the morning.

He's prepared our feast in a tidy fashion-there's a fill-in-blanks-outline in the bulletin of what he's going to say and I see it's going to be a study of "Persecution" with each of his four points having to do with the letter "R." (Groan time: alliteration is a dinosaur that should long-ago have been rendered extinct. Neither Jesus nor the apostles used such an artificial and boring device, but nonetheless, my pen is at the ready.)

We go through two "R's" ("Recipients" and "Reasons") and come to the third "R:" "Response to persecution." (I figure that if the pastor troubled himself to prepare an outline to be filled in, and used so much of his valuable rummaging through a thesaurus to find all those "R's," I should write them down, alliterated or not.) As I'm trudging through the "R's," I look up and notice that not many of my fellow congregants are paying any attention to their outlines. Maybe they've already discovered that life isn't lived by an outline.

I also notice that hardly anyone is opening a Bible to turn to the Scripture references. The woman beside me has yet to record a single "R," and her Bible is lying at her side gathering auditorium dust. The men are doing just what the women are doing, staring straight ahead, and I see no men opening a Bible. For all they know, the speaker may be quoting the "New York Times."

I continue to fill in my outline. The preacher is telling us that our "R"esponse consists of three no-no's, each one, in turn, all beginning with an "R." (These blasted "R's R now getting tedious.) The third no-no is "No "R"eligious superiority."

The pastor has set the sermon in the context of the current world situation, Islam and Christianity. And there it is--multi-culturalism all dressed up and right there in a Sunday-go-to-meeting and sitting in the third subpoint of point 3. This "R" is telling us that Christianity is not superior to any other ""R"eligion," and it's a no-no to give the impression and act as if it is.

This "R" hangs out there and leaves us with the conclusion that Christ is a good savior among many, and "we should "show His love;" but you take your pick, one man's savior is no better, and I guess, no worse, than another. The third "R" with its third subpoint no-no runs up a flag of defiance against John 14:6; John 11:25; Acts 4:12, and we're sitting there, giving it our silent salutes.

In what brand of church have I placed myself? I'm in one whose literature advertises itself as “evangelical;" one whose stated mission is "to grow people in the family of God."

Upon further checking as to how this ecclesiastical pastiche tells the questioner how to get to heaven from Alabama, I learn that the path they would encourage me to walk is one consisting of "turning from the life I am now living, a path that will ultimately lead to a place of darkness and despair, and allowing Christ to lead me into an eternal life filled with His love and blessings." [No mention of faith alone in Christ alone; no mention of "whosoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."]

Instead, I must "turn from the life I'm living" and I must "start allowing Christ to lead me . . . with His love and blessings."

But there's more: I must "confess [my] sins" so that I can be forgiven. And just one more thing: I must invite Him into my heart and ask Him to be my Savior and the Lord of my life."

By now, I'm both tired and confused-it appears as if I'm doing all the doing. I'm "turning," I'm "walking," I'm "allowing," I'm "confessing," I'm "asking," I'm "inviting," and I'm "making" Jesus the Lord of my life. By no stretch of the imagination is such a salvation a "gift;" instead, I'm earning it.

Someone may well ask, "Whatever happened to 'believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved?'" Who kidnapped "believe?" Has John 3:16 been deleted too?

This R-rated sermon has led the congregation into defiance of the free grace gospel of the Christ who guarantees everlasting life to all who simply believe Him for it. These tedious "R's" have led us to spiritual death.

The service comes to its conclusion. I leave the auditorium and get in the car. The contemporary service has just released its inmates; I stop the car and wait for them to cross the street. Did they hear the same sermon? Yes; at least that's the way the services were advertised; same sermon, but each with a different speaker. I suppose they plodded through all those "R's" too.

The music had been great that Sunday; the kids with the cups were cute; the sparkling auditorium was exquisite. But what did the pastor tell us to do, what was the end of it? "Go out and show love," he said, "follow Christ's example, give glory to Christ, be a witness, and remember that He's sending us out there to witness." [But in reality, these who were being encouraged to be a witness, needed to be witnessed to.]

But the question is, be a witness to what? Not, according to point 3, subpoint 3, be a witness to the fact that there is no other name given under heaven among men whereby we must be saved. Not a witness to the Cross, but to "His love." No "R," in point or subpoint, ever mentioned the Cross.

I drive from the building with the bright auditorium. But was it? No. It was a "let's-all-try-to-do-this-message," but there was no gospel light at the R rated service.

Dr. Mike Halsey, Pastor
County Line Church