Our contemporary culture collectively despises a variety of things. For example: Kanye West, delayed gratification, George W. Bush, Truth with a capital “T”, oil companies, and parking tickets—just to name a few. But one of the most infamous objects of abjection is the Church. I’m talking about the whole thing—the invisible, conglomeration of demented denominations and off-kilter peoples, past and present, sometimes strictly, sometimes loosely tied to Christ. The Church is the entity found thoroughly demoralized in living-room conversations all around the country—a universal scapegoat for every religious fault.

Does the Church deserve this kind of debasing and disparity? Hmm. Well, it has done a few things wrong. Okay… it has done a lot of things wrong.

But finding fault in the Church is like taking candy from a baby. There’s so much that could be said! Turning Jesus into a commercial industry? Yep, we’ve done it. Killed millions in the name of our leader? Check. Been a general nuisance in the public domain? Uh-huh. Screwed over someone in your family at one time or another? Probably one time and another.

Having listed just a few reasons people commonly hate the Church, it does seem justified for one to utterly despise such an institution. Okay. So, that’s it—article over. Go egg a Christian’s house.

Wait, no. Don’t do that.

I can relate to those who see deficiencies in the Church. To be more reasonable, we might even call these deficiencies what they really are: incredible failings. I myself have even spent the last few articles critiquing some facets of the Church (Discipleship in the Church, Contextualizing Jesus). So even I agree that some form of criticism needs to be voiced. But not as it is often done, and not from who we often are. Allow me to explain.

Today we generally have three camps who are overly-critical about the Church: those who are choosing to remain within the Church who maintain a love/hate relationship with the thing; those who have left the Church, but still find it amusing to continually explain all of the many reasons they left and won’t ever return; and those who are outside the Church, and have always been outside the Church. Many of these different people want to metaphorically burn the current Church. And then burn the ashes. And then throw the microscopic remains in a chasm.

I will primarily/exclusively be addressing the first group–those who are within the Church who have major misgivings about its current state, those who may be attempting to reform the Church, and/or those who could be on the verge of excommunicating themselves. These are people who might find the content of this article worthwhile.

As for the other groups: people who have always been outside the Church have no basis for ceasing their attacks upon the Church, or relenting from their anger. The only way to heal wounds they bear is through a changed Church that can drastically alter their secular perspectives. Likewise, ex-Christians, by leaving the Church, have no further responsibility or pressing need to reconcile with the Church. It is clear that by removing their identification with the Church, they have no desire to put into practice anything I might say about dealing with their frustrations.

So, back to the question-at-hand: for all us pissed-off Church attenders, all us blue-like-jazzercizers—what do we do with all our pent-up angst regarding the Church? Many of us are turning to new systems of thought, new church structures, and new social gatherings that we would call “progressive.” These “radical” communities are redefining Church practices with all the vigor and idealism available in our youthful bodies, but often while critically deconstructing the church of the past. Some of us are remaining within the older conventional structures, but reluctantly and with a touch of resentment for what we are participating in. And there are others of us that are ready to call it quits with everything new and old. Well for all of you disenchanted Christians who find yourself on board the new, or the old, or the non-existent—let me give you three simple reasons you ought to let go of your bitterness and love your flawed peers and ancestors:

First of all, God doesn’t like complainers. It only takes one reading of the Exodus account for this to be apparent. The Israelites were kept in the wilderness for 40 years and unable to see the land that was promised to them because of their complaining and their grumbling against God. Again and again in the account of their journey you see them complain, and God hear their complaint with some measure of patience. But enough eventually becomes enough and God drops the hammer.

This cycle of complaining permeates our current Church. The tie that seems to unite some new church movements is their mutual hatred and grumbling. But these movements will have nothing to stand on because their agenda is actually a petty vendetta! And for others of us who are a part of existing church structures—by just simply grumbling against the current state, we will be making no forward progress, but merely add to the confusion and frustration of the present. The fact is, if we base ourselves or our gatherings upon complaints, we will end up in an ideological wilderness—when all the dust settles from our criticisms, we’ll be left in a desert we created.

The second reason that we should be more respectful of expressions of the Church is because, contrary to popular belief, we came from them and are sharpened by them. Not one of our new movements (or even old movements) could exist without building upon the past mistakes, and past successes. Whether we are aware of it or not, we could not have reacted to institutionalized Church, and created a decentralized model unless there had first been men who attempted to institutionalize the Church. Given their circumstances and put in their shoes, we might have made the exact same mistakes they have.

We are often oblivious of this reality. We believe that we create our structures ex nihilo, or out of nothing, and that our only influence is the Word of God and our own ingenuity. But that’s ridiculous. The truth is we are building on the work of many well-intentioned, albeit flawed, human beings. And someone, one day, will build upon our well-intentioned, flawed structures as well. Respect the process.

The third and final reason, and the most obvious reason we ought to embrace the current Church is that Jesus loved/loves the Church. In fact, Jesus’ ministry was to pass on teachings that would shape the Church, and then He died to create it. Did He teach and die exclusively for a perfect Church? Well, if you read the Bible, the perfect Church lasts but a few chapters in Acts. If you go on to read through the pastoral letters (Galatians, Corinthians, ect.), it becomes obvious that the Church of the Bible is rife with all kinds of issues—people turning Christianity into a competition for righteousness; people making money off the institution; people using it for power; people participating in all kinds of hypocritical, sexual, and corrupt practices.

We often get this sense that the Church of the Bible was very different than our own, and only since the advent of the Roman Church-state did the Church truly become deficient. False. It has always been deficient. But Jesus, knowing the Church was deficient, bore the deficiency in His own body, and gave Himself for it—”while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

Of course, as I said before, I see the need to deconstruct the Church and reevaluate many aspects of it—as long as that deconstruction does not simply end in absolute destruction. And the motivation for this should be a concern and love, not a heart composed of hardened resentment.

If we succumb to bitterness, we will attract people of similar attitudes. And it can be assured—a group of people who are first-and-foremost critics will not remain united for long. The scrutiny will quickly transfer from the external ideals to the fellow members of the congregation. People will devour each other. And you will have nothing but a bunch of individual complainers who simply don’t want to put in the hard work of being an agent for positive change.

It is clear in the example of Jesus that we have the fullest expression of how to deal with deficiency. We live to change it, and we sacrifice our very being to see it reborn. People who want to grumble and complain will quickly find themself outside the Church where they can maintain their negative perspectives. They will attract similarly-minded people, and participate in an enterprise that leads absolutely nowhere. But those who want to do something about the Church, and see it changed for the better will live like Christ. They will recognize the failings of the Church, but give their lives to see the wrongs made right. They will build a bridge of peace from the past to the present. They will bear the scrutiny and shame of being associated with such a flawed and human institution, but will likewise participate in a future glorification as the people of God.

And the Church may remain hated by culture, but will always remain unimaginably dear for those who cling to Jesus.

It’s the 1st century in the middle-east–Jesus preaches a message so unbelievably counter-culture that people have no idea what to make of Him. Some think He’s a poor Jew that doubles as the savior of the world, and others think He’s more demon-possessed than Emily Rose; some think He’s a reincarnated prophet from centuries past, and others think He’s the town drunk (I mean if you saw Him today tagged on facebook holding a glass of wine, you might think so too). Wherever He takes and lives His message, controversy ensues. On one occasion the people try to crown Him a king, and on another occasion the air rings with, “Crucify the man!”

And today, even we see that message’s power. Who isn’t most divided in their soul in spirit by the words of Jesus, over-and-above all other passages of Scripture? Nothing cuts deeper to the intentions of our heart and judges where we stand more than when we find ourselves in the wake of His words.

So where has the power of Jesus’ ministry gone in our churches? Or is it gone? Are we still experiencing the radical life that Jesus preached, the one that caused such varied reactions?

Today we seem to “contextualize” the radical teachings of Jesus into something much more palatable for our suburban tastes. For example: ”Would you like to commit yourself to service? How ’bout you join our greeting team and say ‘hello’ to people for an hour as they enter a service. Don’t break your back and get burnt-out with that one! Would you like to give? Be a ‘cheerful giver,’ give 10% of your salary to our multi-million dollar building fund. It’s easy to stay cheerful when you keep 90% for yourself! Would you like to change our culture? Participate in a rally that condemns the behaviors of other beliefs. Nevermind the fact that Jesus condemned the religious! Would you like to step out in faith? Invite your friend to listen to a service. Besides, we’re having ice-cream afterwards! Would you like to be missional? Buy the coffees next time you go out with your coworkers who make upwards of $100,000 a year. That’ll make the message come alive–meet some physical needs for people who have no physical needs!” And the list goes on.

The truth is we’re drowning in the watered-down and diluted teachings we proclaim and attribute to Jesus. Now we’re just a bunch of religious people who do a few socially awkward things (and a few socially offensive things) without any true Biblical purpose behind them.

Well, we’re told that we’re working with a bit of a gap in terms of history. You can’t simply take Jesus’ words and directly translate them to your life, can you? That’s poor interpretation of Scripture. You need the Pope, or at least a pastor (who graduated college with a bachelor’s degree in business), to explain how His teachings translate to our lives today. I mean, Jesus uses all kinds of techniques in His teaching like rabbinic hyperbole, and parables to get His point across. And He lived in 1st century Palestine, and we live in 21st century America. There’s a real disconnect there, right?

Well to the early disciples there didn’t seem to be any kind of disconnect. Granted, they were in a similar historical context, but they were the ones who would understand more than anyone if Jesus was exaggerating His message. But they didn’t seem to think Jesus was stretching the truth when they gave up their property and pooled their resources to care for the needy, and when they put aside their intellectual differences and had “everything in common,” and when they participated in long prayer meetings and fasting, and when they got murdered, and when they got imprisoned. They seemed to take Jesus’ sayings quite literally if you ask me.

But if we’re not taking them literally, then what are we doing? Well in our free-time we like to solidify our suburban subculture of Christianity by purposely segragating ourselves. We put stickers on our cars that let others know we are “not of this world.” As if it weren’t obvious enough already when we intentionally study the Scriptures and pray at the most socially-trafficked area–the local Starbucks. And others of us? Well, we don’t want to be associated with the modern Christian subculture, so we do nothing at all.

Jesus and the early Christians weren’t “of this world” either, but they didn’t have to go out of their way to prove it. They just lived it. And they didn’t shrink back from socially-unpopular association. The culture of their day thought the Lord’s Supper was a cannibalistic event, and that their congregational meetings were sexual orgies. They were being called cannibalistic nymphomaniacs, and we’re worried about being called hypocrites. When we are.

So, in view of the entire universe that is the internet, I ask again, what was the radical life that made Jesus hated in the 1st century? Giving up one’s possessions; caring for the poor, I repeat, actually caring for the poor; altogether giving up the pursuit of material gain; relinquishing the sexual passions of the flesh; being ambassadors of reconciliation with an infinite supply of forgiveness; being concerned with the well-being of your fellow man as if he were your very own self; truly standing for a miraculous event like the rising of Jesus from the dead, not as if you invented the idea, not for the purpose of proving others wrong, but as if you believe it actually happened.

Those things still seem awfully radical today.

Maybe it’s time we quit contextualizing a radical faith that doesn’t need to be contextualized. It’s not too difficult to see that giving up possessions in the 1st century equates to giving up possessions in the 21st–and the same for every other command as well.

Jesus promised His followers would be hated if they actually followed Him. Jesus was hated by His culture to the point of death, and so were His early followers. And Jesus promises the same things for us, and says we will be rewarded for being hated. We are, by-and-large, hated by our culture today. But we foolishly impose this hatred upon ourselves in a different way than early Christians. We are hated for simple reasons–lacking tact, and being needlessly offensive and overbearing. We are hated because we contextualize Jesus’ teachings into a comfortable lifestyle, that just ends up some kind of faux-religious weirdness. And we are hated because we impose new messages of condemnation within those that Jesus spoke, messages of condemnation for those who are far from God.

What if we were hated, not because we are trying so hard to be different, but because we are different. What if we were hated, not because we participate in foolish and unbiblical theatrics, but because we look like Jesus.

What if churches gave up multi-million dollar building projects? What if people sold their property and pooled their resources to make sure greater needs are met? What if churches laid aside non-essentials for the sake of unity? What if people found the poor outside the walls of their suburban context and began to serve them? What if we didn’t love money, sex, and leisure so much? Maybe then culture would hate us, not because we make ourselves look foolish, awkward or obstinate, but because we live convicting and radical lives in the same vein as Jesus–lives that illuminate the emptiness of their own.