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9. CORPORATE SIMPLICITY: THE CHURCH
I have felt tender breathings in my soul after God…and strong desires have attended me that his family, who are acquainted with the moving of the Holy Spirit, may be so redeemed from the love of money and from that spirit in which men seek honor one of another, that in all business, by sea or land, they may constantly keep in view the coming of His Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.
—John Woolman
While individual effort is good, it is always limited. There are things that we can do together that we cannot possibly do alone. God has so arranged human life that we are dependent upon one another to come into all that he desires of us. We need each other’s help in order to know how to love God. We need each other’s help in order to know how to love our neighbor. Lone Ranger Christianity is a contradiction in terms.
In the twelfth chapter of Romans, Paul sets forth a lovely picture of a community of people living in simplicity. Placed in the context of teaching on the gifts of the Holy Spirit, this passage provides a profoundly practical understanding of how we are to live. We are to give freely to the needs of the saints and to practice ordinary hospitality. We are to enter into the needs of one another, rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep. We are to deal with class and status distinction to the extent that we can freely be among the lowly. We are to surrender the need to have our own way, and instead concern ourselves with what will build the fellowship. We are to live in peace and harmony, never avenging ourselves, always trusting in God. What an inviting paradigm of simplicity by which to conjugate our lives!
The Teaching Ministry of the Church
One of the most urgent needs in the contemporary struggle for simplicity in the Church is the ministry of teaching. There is a dismal ignorance of the simplest truths about both inward and outward simplicity. People need to know the truth if they are to be set free by the truth. Those of us in the congregation can make a valuable contribution in this direction by encouraging our pastors to dare to address such subjects. We can let them know that we are personally struggling with what it means to be a responsible citizen in a hungry world and would welcome their instruction and insight. By our own honesty and openness we let our pastor know our willingness to have him or her deal with controversial issues. We are willing to be challenged at the point of our own vested interests, because we desire truth more than our vested interests.
This encouragement can be most helpful. Pastors do not enjoy declaring unpopular messages any more than the rest of us. How encouraging to know of even a few who would welcome thoughtful, prayerful truth-giving.
Pastors also need to take courage and share boldly and tenderly. People need the truth. It does them no good to remain ignorant. They need the freedom that comes through the grace of simplicity. And if we are to bring the whole counsel of God, we must give attention to these issues that enslave people so savagely. Martin Luther is reported to have said, “If you preach the Gospel in all aspects with the exception of the issues which deal specifically with your time you are not preaching the Gospel at all.”1 Given the contemporary milieu, several dimensions of simplicity seem to me to need careful attention in the teaching ministry of the Church.
We must boldly teach the essential connection between the inner and outer aspects of simplicity. We can no longer allow people to engage in pious exercises that are divorced from the hard social realities of life. Nor can we tolerate a radical social witness that is devoid of inward spiritual vitality. Our preaching and teaching need to hold these elements in unity. If our teaching is centered in the biblical text, we will find literally hundreds of examples—from Abraham to St. John, from the wisdom literature to the apocalyptic writings.
By now you may have grown weary of my constant stress upon this matter, but the need for such a holistic message today is as obvious as the lack of it is terrifying. It is by far the most distinguishing feature of the classical literature on this subject, and the most lacking feature in the contemporary literature. Take, for example, Francis de Sales’s Introduction to the Devout Life, which has instruction on meditation, prayer, humility, and solitude combined with counsel on wealth, poverty, attire, and simplicity of speech. Or consider William Law’s A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, which has three chapters on economics set in the middle of a discussion on devotional exercises. Or think of Richard Baxter’s A Christian Directory, which gives practical instruction on prayer and faith, love and submission, as well as condemning the sin of oppression and boldly setting forth a scheme of economic ethics. This superb balance in the ancient writings between the inward and the outward, between devotion and action, is epitomized so well in the words of Bernard of Clairvaux: “Martha and Mary are sisters.”2 In fact, one of the best ways to help us see the fundamental connection between interior and exterior simplicity is to study in our churches some of the classical Christian writings on this theme.
A second theme that needs to be taught in our churches is the biblical and theological foundations for justice. The message of the prophets must be given new attention. Are we willing to have the scathing social critique of Amos applied to our day? Can we listen to Isaiah’s impassioned plea on behalf of the poor and defenseless? Will we give attention to Micah’s thundering denunciation of injustice and corruption? Are we willing to hear Jonah’s call to worldwide citizenship and missionary responsibility? To hear the biblical message on justice, really hear it, will drive us into the contemporary problems of hunger and poverty.
Another issue that needs earnest study and teaching is the missionary obligation of the Church of Jesus Christ. Despite numerous church mission conferences, there remains a tragic lack of knowledge in this field. Missionaries need to quit boring us with Technicolor travelogues and plunge us into an understanding of the theology of missions, the sociology of people movements, and the anthropology of cross-cultural evangelism. Nothing could motivate us to simplify our lifestyle more than a clear understanding of our responsibilities to the many “hidden cultures” of the earth that have no Christian witness.
A fourth issue that demands thoughtful study is the relationship between simplicity and peace, or conversely, between covetousness and war. Does our accumulation of luxury and wealth sow the seeds of revolution and desolation? To what extent is military might used to protect the privileged position of the wealthy, and keep the poor out of the profit-making cycle? Is peacemaking the natural outflow of simplicity? These and many similar questions need careful and prayerful thought.
In our ministry of teaching we also need to rethink our doctrine of work. The goal of work is not to gain wealth and possessions, but to serve the common good and bring glory to God. Even the Puritans, who have often been accused of espousing an unhappy work ethic, saw work as an opportunity to enhance the public good rather than gratify selfish ambition. The great Puritan divine Richard Baxter urged the choosing of an employment in which we could be the most serviceable to God. “Choose not,” said Baxter, “that in which you may be most rich or honorable in the world; but that in which you may do most good, and best escape sinning.”3
Simplicity takes vigorous exception to both the slothful and the workaholic. Diligence and faithfulness are to be praised, but slavish addiction is sin. Simplicity calls us off of a lifestyle of go, go, go. And if we are to teach this reality of unhurried peace and power, we had better demonstrate it in the life of the Church. If we believe in family solidarity, we had better find ways to help families be together in the evenings rather than in twenty-five different committee meetings. Such frantic hyperactivity is sin, and we should be willing to say so. To be spent in the cause of Christ is a very different reality from the frenzied activity of the modern Church.
If we are serious about teaching Christian simplicity, we will have to address the prevalent theology of wealth. This theology takes many forms, but its point is always the same: God will bless us materially beyond our wildest dreams. This teaching does contain an important truth—God does indeed want to bless his children. The real issue, however, is the purpose for which God blesses us. God’s blessing is not for personal aggrandizement, but to benefit and bless all the peoples of the earth. To understand the distinction makes all the difference in the world. The theology of wealth says, “I give so that I can get.” Christian simplicity says, “I get so that I can give.” The difference is profound.
The fatal flaw in all these little schemes, in which we give to Jesus in order to get rich from Jesus, is the same as that in “chain letters”—someone has to pay. In a world of limited resources, our wealth is at the expense of the poor. To put it simply, if we have it, others cannot.
The Sacred Cow
I have often pondered the perennial desire for bigger and better in the Church. I do not say that this is bad, but I wonder about it. I listen, as I am sure you do, to the radio and TV evangelists’ constant appeals for money. I receive, as I am sure you do, numerous letters describing the wonderful work God is doing through them, and appealing for more money to increase this good work. Always God is leading these groups to ask for more. I want to speak this tenderly because, quite frankly, I am not saddled with the responsibility of raising vast amounts of money, but isn’t it possible that sometimes God would lead us to ask for less? Just once I would like to hear a Christian leader say, “Folks, God has been good to us in many ways, and as we were praying over the future, it seemed as if he desired us to tell you to take the money that you would normally give to us this month and give it to the poor.” Isn’t it possible that God would lead in this way at times? Such an idea sounds naive, I know, and clearly it is not an effective fund-raising technique. But then obedience is a higher priority than any program or budget, and the advancement of Christ’s kingdom is of greater consequence than our little projects.
I must also give a word about the techniques people use in fund-raising for church projects. It is one thing to inform people of legitimate needs; it is quite another to purposely calculate emergency appeals so as to gain the largest response. It is one thing to teach about the spiritual necessity of giving; it is quite another to make use of psychological techniques that are proven to increase giving but have no regard whatsoever for the spiritual state of the individual. It is one thing to help people understand their responsibility for justice and evangelism; it is quite another to persuade and cajole and manipulate the emotions.
Christian fund-raising has reached the end of its tether after it has adequately informed us of the need. Convincement is the proper terrain of the Holy Spirit, and we dare not abrogate his work. To be quite honest, I will no longer read appeal letters that have the appropriate sentences underlined in red, and promise to give me a special trinket if I give, and enclose a handwritten (though printed) final note of appeal just in case I have decided to say no. It is with sadness that I refuse to read them, because I am certain that they are often for very good causes; but the approach has moved from the sharing of information to psychological manipulation.
In our concern for simplicity of speech, I would also like to raise the matter of the naming of our church buildings. There is, I think, an inherent honesty in naming our facilities after the town or street where they reside. All our descriptive adjectives such as “Open Bible” or “Full Gospel” imply that everyone else is “closed Bible” or “half Gospel.” Besides, a name such as Maple Street Episcopal Church or Salem Baptist Church helps give us an identity and commitment to the area to which we seek to minister.
I would further caution us in the naming of our fellowship groups. A person once asked me what we called a little group to which I belonged that was attempting to experience a deeper sense of community. I answered, “I think we had better have the reality before we try to name it.” I soon discovered that this response was particularly appropriate, as this individual belonged to a group called “Unity House,” which had known anything but unity.
I know that naming is a way of describing the distinctive emphasis of a group, but I am concerned that we do not claim more than we can possibly deliver. The usual pattern in Scripture is to give a new name to someone after his or her transformation has occurred.
Simplicity in speech also deals with the issue of titles of distinction. On this matter Jesus was straightforward: “But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brethren. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called masters, for you have one master, the Christ” (Matt. 23:8–10).
Does this mean that we can never use the term “father,” even in reference to the male parent? Of course not! What Jesus was pointing to is the destructive way we use titles to control and manipulate others: if the rabbi (or professor, or doctor) said it, no one can dispute it. The practical wisdom in Jesus’s words is easy to see in academic institutions. When professors are having a particularly difficult time convincing students, subtle appeals to technical knowledge and advanced degrees usually silence all discussion. Such manipulative control is inconsistent with Christian simplicity. Obviously, some people have more authority to speak on some issues than others, but I have found that that authority has precious little to do with titles of distinction.
It is one thing to teach respect for elders and those in authority; it is quite another to manage and maneuver people by our titles of “doctor,” “reverend,” “professor,” “your honor,” and so on. The title “reverend” is singularly inappropriate. The term means “one who is to be revered,” and that is a distinction that belongs to God alone.
Christian simplicity does not demand a slavish use or disuse of titles. What it does demand is a careful examination of the spirit in which we hold one another, and a willingness to be servants in word as well as in deed.
Aesthetics and Utility in Creative Tension
Any attempt to deal with simplicity in the Church cannot avoid the issue of buildings and architecture. This is not an issue that yields to an easy answer, but I would propose that we must hold the concerns for aesthetics and utility in creative tension.
I imagine my little principle is not a very helpful guide to a building committee that is trying to hammer out the size and shape (and cost) of a new sanctuary, but I do think that it can provide some guidance. We need to be concerned for both usefulness and beauty, efficiency and artistry.
In the final analysis, our decisions about architecture and buildings will be determined by our theology of the Church, and that is a topic far beyond the scope of this small book. But I present the following suggestions as one attempt to hold aesthetics and utility in creative tension.
One question to answer is the function we want the building to have, since form should always follow function. If worship and adoration is the central concern, then the form articulated in stone or wood or concrete should address that idea. If the primary concern is fellowship, then a different kind of architecture is appropriate. The high, arching ceiling is more conducive to adoration; the circle is more suggestive of fellowship.
A second suggestion is that we face with brutal honesty the issue of whether our building project is for prestige or the glory of God. I heartily recommend to any group planning to build that they meet together as a group for worship and adoration with the single purpose of listening to God about the proposed plan.
I learned the value of this experience in the first building program in which I was involved. It was actually a rather small project—an educational unit that was to double as a day-care center. We had all the right reasons for needing such a facility. We had gone through all the appropriate committees. We had the architect’s drawings and had even launched a fund drive. But at that time I was also learning many things about the work of prayer, and I finally realized that this was a matter over which we should pray together as a people. A meeting for worship was called for that purpose. We met with no pressure to make a decision, for we already had official church approval for the project. We read Scripture, we prayed, we sang, we shared, we listened quietly. It was a wonderful experience. I went into the meeting thinking that probably we should build, and I left certain that we should not. The crucial turning point came when I saw the driving force behind my desiring that building to be my unarticulated feeling that a building program was the sign of a successful pastor. Theologically and philosophically, I did not believe that, but as we worshipped the Lord, the true condition of my heart was revealed. Eventually we decided against building, a decision now validated by hindsight.
And so we must find ways to ask if our projects signal money, success, and prestige, or service, caring, and the glory of God. “But people won’t come unless we dazzle them,” you remonstrate. Perhaps, but remember that cuts both ways: many (myself included) will not go to a church that is purposefully trying to dazzle them.
Another suggestion is to call for a revival of the artisan and craftsman. Perhaps someone in the fellowship can carve a beautiful door or altar to the glory of God. Paintings, mosaics, tapestries can be made with care and prayer by fellow worshippers. Sculptures and pottery can be created soli de gloria.
Still a fourth suggestion is to remember that beauty is expressed in many ways other than brick and stone. Flowers and grass and majestic trees can all enhance our sense of color and symmetry. I have often strolled through the Spanish missions of California and marveled at the lovely quadrangles with their gardens and fountains. If we value fellowship, then we should provide quiet places of beauty and color where friends can sit and visit. Often a tranquil fountain can quiet our inner rush and drown out street noises as well.
Extravagant, you say. Perhaps, but then maybe it is an extravagance that has a kinship to the spikenard spilled over Jesus’s head.
Of course, we need to consider the matter of what will fit the geography and cultural context of the area. And then there is the important issue of cost-effectiveness. Further, there should be concern for quality and durability. Also, we will want to ask if our facilities are encouraging a lifestyle consistent with the life and teachings of Jesus. These and many more issues grow out of the creative tension between aesthetics and utility.
The Care of Souls
Probably the most significant lack in modern church life is in the ministry of eldering. When Paul gathered the Ephesian elders at the Aegean port of Miletus, he told them to watch over the flock of God which the Holy Spirit had given to them (Acts 20:17–35). This ministry of watching over one another in love—that is, eldering—is as important now as it was then. Christian simplicity is advanced through the ministry of eldering.
The first thing that must be done if we are to take this work seriously is to provide settings where it can happen. Caring for one another in most churches is quite impossible, simply because we don’t know each other well enough to help. A pastor cannot possibly hope to provide adequate shepherding care to a group of any significant size. The answer is for people with the spiritual gift of eldering (whether officially designated as such or not is of little consequence) to give oversight and counsel to the people of God. But elders must get to know their flock if they hope to provide spiritual direction. The class meetings that John Wesley instituted provided this kind of oversight. Converts were divided into small groups that met weekly for mutual accountability and support. Many churches have formed “care groups” or “mini-churches” with the same concern in mind.
What does all this have to do with simplicity? The answer is easy to see: we cannot enter simplicity of life without the help of one another. We need the benefit of people with insight and discernment. For example, there are some people that really need to take a sabbatical leave from their labors in the Church. But they will never do it unless someone tenderly urges them to take this step of simplification. Others need to be encouraged out of their sloth and self-interest.
In the early days of Koinonia Farm in Georgia, a wealthy woman expressed an interest in joining the experimental Christian community. Clarence Jordan, the founder and spiritual leader of Koinonia, told her to first dispose of her money. “How?” she asked. Jordan replied, “Give it to the poor, give it to your relatives, throw it over a bridge—but you must enter the fellowship without it.” She asked if she could give the money to Koinonia Farm. Perceptively, Jordan saw the danger of that act. He accurately discerned her to be a lonely person—lonely because every friend she had was after her money. “If you put that money here,” said Jordan, “you would think we courted you for your money and that we loved you for your money.” The wealth would become a further barrier to fellowship, Jordan noted, because she would begin to view herself as the great benefactor of the group and feel that they should forever feel indebted to her. Jordan concluded, “For your sake and our sake, you get rid of that money and come walk this way with us.”4 What a beautiful example in action of a wise and discerning eldership.
Please do not read these words in too structured a way. I am not dealing with a rigid church policy, or giving license for some demigod of an elder to lord it over everyone else. This is something much less formal and nonauthoritarian. I am only suggesting that we should find ways to receive the help and counsel of those who are endowed by God with the spiritual gifts of discernment and wisdom.
One way many of us have found to allow this gracious ministry to occur is through what are sometimes called “meetings for clearness.” They involve nothing more than bringing together people whom we respect for their spiritual wisdom, and sharing a matter in the desire to gain “clearness.” The issue can be anything from employment decisions (my decision to move from the pastorate to college teaching and writing came out of a meeting for clearness), to sharing budgets for mutual evaluation, to a decision about marriage, or any number of other items.
A decision does not need to be made in the meeting; in fact, it is often best to wait a bit to see if any direction sensed in the group experience is confirmed. An individual shares his or her concern, and then together the group seeks to understand the mind of Christ in the matter. There are questions and discussion, but also prayer and worship. Advice should never be given in haste, lest it distract from the truth rather than lead into it. Words should arise out of the power of God in the midst of the group. Every individual must have the inward discipline to never, never, never interject merely personal bias. People who cannot control their tongue do not belong in such a gathering.
What happens? Often—not always, but often—there begins to emerge a clearer, more certain sense of direction. There is, certainly, the normal sense of assurance that comes from mutual evaluation, but something more occurs—something that does not easily yield to sociological cataloging. It is a reality that I have never known in the ordinary experiences of gathering data, evaluating, discussing, and voicing opinions. I have no way to validate it conclusively, but I wonder if the difference is not in the fact that when Christians gather with a commitment to hear the voice of Christ, they receive the direction for which they seek.
Such a group experience can help us keep our eye single. Christian brothers and sisters may warn us if we are taking on too many activities, or if we are getting too puffed up, or both; as one friend said to me once, “You need to lay low in the Lord.” They may encourage us that we are moving in the right direction. They may stir us up to love and good works.
The group can also be the catalyst for ministry and provide a basis for emotional and even financial support. When the word of the Lord came to the “meeting for clearness” at Antioch instructing Paul and Barnabas to go to the Gentiles, they did not need to go to twenty churches to drum up support. The fellowship at Antioch was their base of support: spiritually, emotionally, economically (Acts 13:1–3, 14:27–28).
Suppose in your congregation there is a widowed woman with two small children.5 She works as a lawyer and is actively involved in your church. But a conviction grows within her that she is to use her profession as a ministry among the city’s poor. She calls a group together to help her discern the Lord’s will in the matter. What would such a decision mean? First, because of the time commitment of this proposed ministry, she would have to resign from the choir and the nominating committee. Second, the loss of salary would mean that she could no longer give to the church budget as generously as before. Third, and perhaps most crucial, the cut in pay that she would experience would be so drastic that financial assistance would be necessary if she were to engage in this ministry.
If members of the “meeting for clearness” confirmed this woman’s sense of call, they would also be committed to helping her find the means for it to happen. Sometimes a group involved in a decision such as this can carry the entire support of the work; other times they become the catalyst for involving others. In either case it is astonishing how often impossible dreams become realizable when a group of people, even a very small group, genuinely believe that God is directing them.
The care of souls is an ancient and time-honored ministry. May God grant us new “wineskins” for its fulfillment in our day.
Economic Equipoise
The Apostle Paul set before Christians of all generations a challenging economic principle in his efforts to gather an offering for the poor Christians at Jerusalem (Rom. 15:25–27). He saw the situation in Jerusalem as a wonderful opportunity to express Christian unity across cultural and racial lines. What a rare privilege for Gentiles to show Christian love to their Jewish brothers and sisters who were in need. Paul spent no small effort to bring this mission of mercy to pass, and we catch important glimpses into it in his second letter to the Corinthians.
Paul first cites the heartwarming response of the Macedonian believers who recently had been through severe financial difficulties themselves, and still had given with great liberty and joy: “For they gave according to their means, as I can testify, and beyond their means, of their own free will, begging us earnestly for the favor of taking part in the relief of the saints” (2 Cor. 8:3).
Here was lavish, joyful giving. No mechanical tithe, no calculated attempt to give the least possible amount. The Macedonians were delighted for the opportunity to share. And Paul encouraged the Corinthians to “excel in this gracious work also” (2 Cor. 8:7).
Do you sense the spirit of joy and abandon? This was no time to worry about investment plans and financial security. Here was an opportunity to help Christians in need. Here was an opening to follow in the steps of Christ, who, “though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich” (2 Cor. 8:9). Only a fool would fail to seize so wonderful an opportunity.
But I have yet to mention Paul’s most shocking statement: “I do not mean that others should be eased and you burdened, but that as a matter of equality your abundance at the present time should supply their want, so that their abundance may supply your want, that there may be equality” (2 Cor. 8:13–14, emphasis mine). What an astonishing principle for modern ears. In essence, Paul is suggesting a certain economic balance among the Christian community. It is, as he puts it, “a matter of equality.” Now Paul is not seeking some kind of precise financial leveling. Gospel liberty was too deeply embedded within him for such pharisaical gymnastics. But he is pointing to a generosity of life that cannot rest in abundance while others suffer in need.
To buttress this principle, Paul cites the story of the miraculous feeding of the children of Israel with manna: “As it is written, ‘He who gathered much had nothing over, and he who gathered little had no lack’” (2 Cor. 8:15).
This Old Testament reference is particularly instructive. Each morning, God graciously provided the children of Israel a supply of the mysterious flake-like material called “manna” (Exod. 16:9–36). To deal with their insatiable greed and to teach them trust, God commanded that only one day’s supply was to be gathered. True to form, however, some gathered more than allowed; but amazingly, when it was measured with the four-pint omer, “he that gathered much had nothing over, and he that gathered little had no lack” (Exod. 16:18). But some people never learn, and so certain of the Israelites decided to ration out the day’s supply so that they could build up a little security for tomorrow. After all, God might not provide them with manna tomorrow. Actually, it was quite prudent and frugal of them. But God wanted to teach them about daily bread, so the stored manna “bred worms and became foul” (Exod. 16:20).
The lessons of the manna were clear: trust God implicitly, no hoarding permitted, and—most pointed of all—no greed allowed. There were to be equal portions for all. The reason for equal portions is eminently practical: it eliminates the occasion for covetousness, jealousy, and division. And it is this principle of equality that Paul stresses so vigorously.
What should the principle mean for us today? Inequity in the Christian fellowship is so blatant as to need no demonstration. Millions of our Christian brothers and sisters in Asia, Africa, and Latin America barely escape starvation—many do not escape—not to mention their lack of health care and education. Dare we sit back in our comfort and ease, debating the color of our padded pews, while this scandal exists?
No, of course we must do something. But the real difficulty is exactly how to respond to the problem. Is the early Franciscan fidelity to “Lady Poverty” the best approach? Some have said yes and have called the Church to a radical divestiture of holdings. Some churches may be called to such a step, but many will not be. For those congregations who do not feel that total divestiture is right for them, I offer three suggestions.
First, we could establish as a budget policy a goal of giving as much to others as we spend on ourselves. I know that this has many difficulties. Is the salary for a Minister of Evangelism giving to others? Is a Vacation Bible School budget that reaches many new children giving to others? What about a building program that may open the way for many new members? As difficult as the idea admittedly is, still it is a policy worth considering. If nothing else, it would continually force us to ask how much we care about the needs of Christians in other places.
Second, we could develop an ongoing relationship with an economically poor church. This might be an inner-city church, or one in another country. When I pastored in Southern California, we developed a relationship with a fellowship in the Los Angeles inner city. When we gathered a “collection for the saints in Los Angeles,” we actually appointed people who would take it to our recipients in person. This recommendation also has difficulties. It becomes easy to think of ourselves as God’s guardian angel for the other congregation and to expect them forever to be grateful to us. But given all of its dangers, it can still provide benefit to all concerned if done with sensitivity.
Third, we could set aside one special year as a Jubilee, in which we would try to give all we possibly could to a particular work. Perhaps we might choose the churches of the Sudan Interior Mission, or the Evangelical Church of India, or our denominational mission program. Individuals might adopt families or local churches. For one year we would find as many ways as possible to give as much as possible. Some might sell property holdings, others would have garage sales, still others would sell their car. For one year the budget committee would make an unprecedented outward thrust. And this Jubilee would be proclaimed so that our Christian brothers and sisters in other lands who speak other languages might know of our love. As a “matter of equality,” our abundance would supply their want.
Unrealistic? Utopian? I suppose so, but some congregations will dare it. Why not yours?
Practical Helps
It is good to seek broad, sweeping reform; it is also important to find small ways to stimulate one another to love and good works. I therefore conclude this chapter with some simple counsels for the Christian fellowship.
Let us seek to live in compassion and patience with one another. Grace and latitude should mark our relationships. All too often we can injure each other unduly in our zeal for justice and truth and righteousness. The spirit of condemnation can creep into our relationships terribly subtly. We can begin to look at each other’s possessions with a mental calculator. But there is a more excellent way: we simply need to be with one another, loving, supporting, caring. Of course, we live and speak the truth as it has been given to us, but the business of straightening each other out belongs to God, not us.
Let us seek to do “ecclesiastical mercy-killing” wherever we can. Committees and programs that have outlived their usefulness should be given a proper burial. There is no need to complicate the lives of our people with unproductive meetings. Annual reviews that can cut and streamline the church organization will do much to simplify our lives.
Let us seek simple ways to help one another. Many churches have arrangements where people can bring quite good clothing that the children have outgrown so that it can be passed on to families with younger ones. Some churches have food pantries where canned goods and other staples are available to those in need. At harvest time a table can be set out for people to share their surplus garden produce. Some churches have a weekly or monthly “need sheet” where items to sell, buy, or give away can be listed.
Let us seek ways to resurrect the old practice of community “barn-raising.” Roofs can be reshingled together. Skills in plumbing, electricity, and carpentry can be swapped. I have seen entire homes built out of the loving labor of the fellowship. And with the escalating costs of housing today, this may be the only way the younger couples in our fellowship can own a home.
Let us seek to pay our pastors well. Do we fear that they will be taken over by the spirit of greed? No one who has a weakness toward the love of money should be in a pastoral position in the first place (1 Tim. 3:3). Let’s be known for our gracious generosity to our pastors. It is one way we show our love. It also provides them with the joy of giving to people and causes which they feel are important.
Let us seek to develop many corporate celebrations and feast days. We are enriched by celebrating the goodness of God and our life together. Many such festivals need not be expensive, but some of them should be. We need times when our frugality gives way to the joyous slaying of the “fatted calf.” Where I used to teach they have an annual event called “Symphony of Spring,” and the good it does for the human spirit is impossible to calculate. It is the most anticipated event of the year. Music, costumes, color—it is a mini-extravaganza with all the expertise of a professional production, without the plastic superficiality. This event is not cheap. There is a considerable expense in time, energy, and money. We all need such festivals of joy as together we seek the holy simplicity so inherent to the kingdom of God.