Every Sunday, I sit in the pews with a paper and a pen. That used to be to take notes from the sermon, to jot divinely inspired thoughts and instructions, capture precious nuggets for later reflection.
These days, my jottings are to document my disappointment. “What kind of sermon is this?” is a classic. I write to distract myself from listening, to engage my critical mind since it has no choice but to be subjected to such an abysmal serving, and to try to produce something productive from the experience.
The words are often so filled with vitriol, with righteous indignation, with holy anger, that I make sure to tuck the paper into my notepad as I leave my seat. No one must see these writings, I say, because if they did, they would be plain shocked, and wonder what kind of monster wrote them. I am no monster, of course, but without the privilege of context, that is very likely to be the interpretation of the text.
A sad reality.
Why is this the case, though? How has it come to be so normal, so common, to go to church and merely gaze at the preacher, a poor soul who is speaking of a dead reality? I am not always so direct and acidic, but things have gotten to this point. I also have been reading from men more theological and more acidic than I, so perhaps it makes things worse—or better, for my writing.
When I say dead reality, I mean it. I listen to lifeless sermons, to preachers who go round in circles, and I wonder—if I wasn’t a Christian, would I find any value, any inspiration, any conviction in this? Any instruction, any benefit? Even as a Christian, it’s often a complete waste of time, and downright discouraging. What is going on?
Now, maybe its just the church I attend that has this ailment. Maybe the one you attend is sound, and fervent. Maybe. But not all who attend my church feel this way about it. So this is about the way I see things. Perhaps I could attend your lovely church, and feel the same way about it.
Am I arrogant and noxious, or am I really on to something?
And who made me the judge of church?
Is it right to speak this way?
These are very good questions. We’ll come to them.
Why the spiel?
Even more importantly, why would I be telling you this? You’re enjoying your day, and I show up with a such a spicy complaint, one you didn’t ask for. How does this help you today?
Well, this is about spiritual desire, and spiritual growth. A desire for more. For a faith that lives, that works, in our present day reality. For meaning on Sundays, and every day of the week. For proof, certainty, conviction, that what we profess as Christians is real, that it matters. That we are not practicing mere religion, dead religion.
I don’t want to be part of such a life, and so I pray daily about these issues. This platform exists to tackle this issue and lead us into a fulfilling life of faith and victory in Jesus. If we tackle these issues, if we let honesty have its way in our hearts, it will lead us to the fruitfulness that God desires for us.
That is why I am sharing my horror with you. It’s diagnostic. It’s a first step on a long journey. A journey I can’t fully grasp myself yet, but I understand that every journey begins with a modest step.
For today, I have one question for you to consider:
How was church on Sunday?
Did you leave invigorated, hopeful, blessed? Instructed, joyful?
If not, this journey is for you too. We need to overcome religion and be part of a living solution.
Speak soon,
Taiwo.