• There’s a widely-accepted lie in our culture that we sort of blindly embrace.

    It’s like Santa Clause for adults.

    The lie we all willingly believe in is the lie of control.

    The signs of this lie are everywhere:

    • Anger from frustration
    • Fear, anxiety, and worry
    • Stress and sickness
    • Selfishness and disunity

    These are all byproducts of a mind that is set on control but can never find it.

    We decide that our ideal – our “Eden” – is something we can create.

    But God (and the laws of the universe) plan otherwise.

    Here’s where the disconnect comes from:

    We’ve been programmed by modern advancements to believe that everything around us is under our control.

    With one glance at the device in my pocket, I can instantly know what the weather will be like for the next 10 days or more.

    I can instantly get a virtual tour of the Eiffel Tower anytime I want. 

    I can speak with anyone, anywhere on this planet, instantly whenever I decide to.

    No other generation in history has had the level of access and control that we have today.

    Every other generation had to become very comfortable with uncertainty. 

    Before the industrial revolution, families depended on whether cycles to bring them crops. Survival itself depended on elements that were outside of their control.

    They:

    • ate what was available
    • did activities that were available
    • wore what was available
    • worked at jobs that were available
    • used the products and services that were available

    …and they learned to deal with circumstances as they came.

    But now we have options for everything. 

    Jobs, food, clothes, friends, church, entertainment – we have endless choices.

    And a major side effect of a culture filled with options is the misconception that certainty is just within reach.

    But it’s an illusion.

    The best plans can instantly change. 

    Weather patterns get interrupted, family members get sick, jobs cease to exist, and our worlds of comfort and predictability can be stripped away in an instant (consider 2020 for reference).

    When you realize certainty is an illusion, life gets simpler.

    Control, and the desire for certainty, is a form of self-captivity. You’re only stuck because you’re looking for something to hold onto.

    Imagine being stuck inside a jail cell because you won’t let go of the bars.

    But freedom comes from release – letting go of the need for certainty.

    And when you let go, you start to realize that what you were holding onto so desperately was a self-created captivity.

  • Christianity, by the numbers, is fading fast in America.

    That might not be a bad thing.

    Because it’s probably not the real issue.

    Maybe what’s fading is the shiny replica of the Church that we created.

    The one built on polished sermons and impressive stages.

    The one more concerned with attendance than presence.

    The one more concerned with comfort than breakthrough.

    Maybe the world doesn’t hate Jesus. Maybe they just haven’t seen much of him lately.

    What they’ve seen most is a cheap replica – just close enough to fool the untrained eye.

    And they’re not wrong to feel let down.

    Jesus said we’d be known by our love. 

    Yet somehow we’re most known for our judgement.

    It’s no wonder people started walking away.

    Not from God, but from the off-brand version of him we’ve presented.

    Maybe the decline isn’t rejection. Maybe it’s actually a longing.

    Maybe the world is still hungry for Jesus, but they’re done settling for what we’ve been serving.

    Jesus never said to build churches. He said to make disciples.

    He said to take up your cross, not your platform.

    The early Church looked very different.

    They shared everything they had willingly.

    We get mad if anyone talks about money in church.

    They met together every single day.

    We show up twice a month when it’s convenient.

    They broke bread in their homes and centered their lives around communion.

    We go to a small group every couple weeks and sip juice from plastic cups once a quarter.

    They prayed constantly.

    We say formulaic, surface level prayers and only in the transitions in the service.

    They were known for their conviction and love for one another.

    We’re known for condemnation.

    They were united.

    We’re divided in every way imaginable.

    People noticed them and they grew.

    People are noticing us and we’re shrinking.

    The difference is stark.

    Maybe we need to stop asking how to get people back into church and start asking how to get the Church back into people.

    Because the world is tired of the show.

    And good for them.

    They want to be seen. To be healed. To be loved. To encounter something real.

    And if they can’t find that in us, then maybe we’re the ones who’ve gone missing.