Let It Die - Have The Courage To Bury It

As I walked around the vestibule I had a sense that I was in an old person’s house where the occupants have lived for fifty years. When people live in one place for a long period of time, clutter is a part of the décor. Old flowers stuck in the corner of the counter, coffee cups with pens in them and table clothes that need to be washed. The brown wood paneling, the grey carpet, the round globe lights indicate that the last remodeling was circa 1970.

The bulletin board, lined with dusty plastic flowers, had notices ranging from an upcoming women’s conference in June, pictures of the last four years couples retreat and the quarterly nursery assignment. The mission board had letters dating back as far as 2005. “No wonder they don’t have a vision for missions,” I thought to myself.

The interim pastor, an honorable and godly man, was called to help this Midwest church after the sudden death of the pastor, who had been there over twenty-five years. The location of the church is in a decaying part of the city. I got the feeling that the family members of the deceased pastor as well as the loyal flock of less than 100, were committed to carry on, if not for Christ, at least to the sacred remembrance of the past.

In visiting with the interim pastor I inquired about the city of 175,000 people. Indeed, there were many very good churches in the area, with at least 1,000 congregations. And then I asked my host, “Do you think it’s okay for a church to die?” The reality is that half the churches in the community could die tomorrow and God would still have an adequate witness.

Sadly, what will happen is that the congregation will go through the process of finding a new pastor. One of two things will happen. They will secure a shepherd who will fail miserably due to the lack of will of the people and the sorry demographics of their location. I can see a resistance by the old-timers, as change will be perceived as an assault on the memory of the former pastor. It will die a slow death and in the meantime the talent and resources of a handful will go down another ecclesiastical rat hole. That’s the pessimistic view.

The optimistic view will be a leader coming in, convincing the congregation to sell the property and move to another location. Ten years from now the assembly will be viable, who knows, it may be one of the growing churches in the growing part of town. Of course the original congregation will not be a part of the new assembly, as they will be assimilated into other churches, places that are more convenient and fit more their worship experience preference.

No matter the scenario, it would be better if this local church would just die. There is no church, no matter its glorious history, that is sacred or indispensable. Whatever God is going to do in the city He can do without this congregation. I would suggest they sell the property, sell or donate the furnishings to another group and give the proceeds to several worthy ministry projects in the community and around the world. As the church disbands, may the families be directed to other congregations where they can feel a sense of welcome and belonging. May their last service be a celebration of how God used them for a short period of time.

I am not suggesting that every small congregation disband. This is not about larger churches being more valid than smaller groups. Many trendy churches waist resources at a greater scale and spirituality cannot be measured by the Sunday attendance.

There is no doubt many congregations throughout the world that are in similar situations as this little flock in the heartland. Let us have the courage to let the church die and facilitate the burial process.

Faithful Soldiers

I lose track of North American holidays when I’m overseas. One of the engines of the U.S. economy is the once-a-month special days (Mothers, Fathers, Valentines, Labor, etc.). This weekend is the Memorial holiday, a good day to reflect on those who gave their lives in the service to our country. I’m not sure how many people will actually think about the meaning of the day, I don’t personally know of anyone who has died in combat in the last fifty years. I do think, however, that it’s right and fitting, especially with our involvement in Afghanistan and Iraq, that we set aside a special day for those who paid the ultimate sacrifice of service.

As I traveled to the airport this morning I was thinking about some “other” fallen soldiers. These soldiers died this past year in their service for Christ. I think of my friend Bill Ashton, board member of LCCTI, who succumbed to cancer at the age of 56. Bill’s role in life was that of an organizer and accountant. In the past several years he was Pastor of Administration in a church in South Carolina. Bill was forever telling corny jokes, and he had a ton of them. He died at his post early in life and I miss him.

John Buma was a giant of man. He stood over six feet six inches and his hands were like ham hocks. His tattered second-hand jackets never did fit him, always at least two inches short. John was one of my early students in Kenya and became the pastor of a church in a village a long distance from running water or electricity. No one really knows what Buma died of, probably malaria related. I talked with his widow, Beatrice, last December and she is managing just okay with her four kids.

Lewis Smedes defined faithfulness as finding out "what you are here to take care of, and then give it your best shot." I think of the service of Bill and John and conclude that they gave the Master their best shot. They weren’t trying to win awards or the Medal of Honor; they just faithfully did their job the best they could each day.

Indeed, this is a good day to remember and honor those who faithfully served in the great battle for the souls of men. It’s a good day to remember those serving today. Some serve on the front lines, others quietly serve in support roles, but all are a part of the Good News effort. The great crowd of witnesses that have gone on before cheer us on to take care of why we are here and give it our best.

Missions: Project or Process?

Should missions be project or process based?

Dave Dougherty of OMF defines the difference in approach:

Mission as process: This is the ongoing activity of traditional agencies, churches, and training institutions. They focus on fulfilling the Great Commission in every nation and among every people group.

Missions as project: This is the new outreach of mobilization organizations, churches, and individuals. They focus primarily on the unreached, or the least reached people groups.

As a career missionary you might assume that I am opposed to missions as project, but I am not. I believe that missionary projects, which include short-term trips and programs, can be significant in the global outreach. The reason that missions as project is popular today is two-fold. First, many people who are interested in world missions have become bored with missions as usual, i.e. missions as process. Supporting career missionaries to do the work of the Great Commission is not very exciting. Second, the desire to be personally involved rather than just sending career people to the field gives a feeling of being personally engaged, to have ownership as well as experiencing first hand the work of working cross-culturally. Missions as project provides things this generation longs for…instant gratification and a feeling they are doing something.

While I applaud the mission as project approach, it must be critically analyzed, as is missions as process. The downside of mission as project is that it is not always missiologically sound. Missiologists wrestle with issues of contextualization, indigenousness (new term is organic), self-governing as well as self-sustaining. Few mission as project programs wrestle with these concerns.

In addition, mission as project operate in terms of event not time. Miles Delos comments, “Church growth is a process, not an event.” Certainly this is true also of evangelism and church planting in a cross-cultural context. In missions, like language learning, there are no short cuts to success. Brewster wrote, “Learning a culture is the process of learning what its people know.”

Jay Gary, missiologist, states the church needs to take the long view. “To finish evangelizing the 25 percent of world population which remains unevangelized will likely take two or three generations…This is an area where those who sow may never know those who reap." By the year 2033, we will realize that we must measure our progress in world missions by centuries, not just decades.”

Whether we are engaged in missions through project or process, it must be current in thought, focused and strategic.

The Greater God - Conversations at C-543

“I want you to read a book and after you’ve finished with it we will discuss it,” Mr. J said to me one evening.

My old neighbor then hobbled into his bedroom and came out with a copy of Billy Graham’s book, Peace With God.

“This was given to my son before he died. I don’t know who this Graham person is, but I have a problem with his writings.”

I dutifully read portions of the book, noticing that on every page someone had underlined key phrases. Sometime later I asked Mr. J., “What is it that you want to discuss about in the book?”

“Well,” he began, “I have a problem with the writer elevating his religion above other religions. He seems to be saying his God is superior to my gods.”

Mr. J is a cultural Hindu who has probably been more of an agnostic throughout his life than a practicing follower of his religion. The argument against a superior Being is standard for the secularist whose philosophy is that there is not just one road to heaven but many. To suggest that Jesus is greater than Buddha, Shiva or Mohammed and that the path to salvation is limited to only one way is repugnant and ludicrous.

Though it was not easy to talk to Mr. J about Jesus being the only means of salvation for man, it’s not a new challenge. Throughout history, revealed through archeology as well as ancient documents, man has worshipped deities ranging from the animal kingdom to celestial bodies. Most religions have an animistic base with veneration to the sun, moon, stars, birds, rocks, trees, rivers as well as to ancestors and gods made of wood or stone. The first commandment Jehovah gave to Moses was, “Thou shall not have any other gods before me…You shall not make for yourself an image, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.” Our unbelieving forefathers resisted the exclusive claim of one true God as my old friend does today. He cannot accept a faith that is exclusive.

My discussion with Mr. J was two fold. One, all religions exclusive and, two, in spite of postmodern thought, there are absolutes.

Those who are opposed exclusive claims of Christ usually have their own exclusive claims. Whether it is Islam, Jainism or secularism, everyone claims his or her religion or theory of life is solely valid.

Those of us who are followers of Christ do so because we believe in the historical writings of the Bible, both Old and New Testament. For us there is an unfolding eternal plan for this world and mankind, which began at creation and culminates with end of time and the establishment of God’s eternal kingdom. The people of the Book, which Islamists call Christians, recognize that throughout human history man has consistently followed lesser gods. We have been consistently exclusive throughout the chronicles of time and see that as positive, not negative.

While truth can, and is, often elusive, we maintain it takes more faith not to believe in absolutes. I weary with the endless arguments by some against the notion of intelligent design in creation, or the discussion what is or isn’t morality. Between the intelligentsia insisting that we must accept every scientific explanation of how we came into being and how we are genetically coded to be, to the suicide bomber who believes it is morally and religiously acceptable to destroy the innocent, there is a longing for a message that is not diluted with supposition and conjecture. Jesus was an absolutist in his claim that he was the Son of God. Those who accept his assertion, by default, must also embrace his absolute claim.

For Mr. J, and the millions who are like him, the thought of a greater God is too confining. My friend is not certain about his faith; he faces death with a hope that his cultural upbringing will sort things out for him. He may have another life, he may be ushered into heaven, he’s not sure. He’s willing to risk his eternal life on a cultural belief system, which, to me, is the greatest risk of all.

Making A Negative A Positive

The other day I attended a denominational national meeting. I chatted with the Missions Director and he was telling me about the missionaries that would be appointed that week.

“We have four couples who will be approved as career missionaries, eight missionaries who will be approved for short term internship.”

He then went on to explain their short-term program, which is a two-year assignment, is designed to give missionaries hands on experience.

“Sixty-percent of those who complete this internship program go on to become career missionaries,” he added.

What the Director did not talk about, which I thought was significant, is the forty-percent who come home after the two year project and who do not sign up for career service.

For many years I have argued for equipping people better for those going to the mission field. From the time a missionary family is approved or appointed by their mission board, the two years it takes for them raise their support, living in a country for one term (traditionally four years), the financial investment is approximately $500,000. In some organizations, where the standard of acceptance and screening is low, the attrition rate among first term missionaries averages between twenty and forty percent. With an investment of a half-million dollars, or more, you’d think that mission agencies and sending churches would seek ways to insure that their financial investment was not in vain. Yet, there are very few sending agencies that require any training or internship for those who venture out into career cross-cultural work.

The forty percent interns who do not sign up for career missions reveals what is obvious -- some people are just not cut out to live overseas for a long period of time. It may be because of family matters, personal issues, lack of culture adjustment, not finding their niche in ministry overseas or a host of other reasons for not re-signing for longer than a two year service.

Being able to live overseas does not an effective missionary make. The best internship program will include focused training and hands-on coaching. Though successfully living overseas for two years is helpful, it is only half the battle. Did the interns learn language, culture and do the research necessary to have a long lasting impact are the questions needed for an effective internship program. And for the forty percent not re-upping as missionaries, a thorough exit evaluation of why would enhance the internship program in making it a more valuable program in the future. Counseling for the forty on their “next step” should also be a part of the program in helping those people readjust into their local community and church.

I do not see the forty as a negative, but a positive in this internship project. If more agencies would offer similar programs it would no doubt help reduce missionary attrition and save money in the process.

Chosen Hardship

The greatest challenge for any person is self-control. Take any subject: work, study, prayer, personal health, time management, family relationships, etc., you name the area of concern and self-control is probably a key component of success or failure. Those who can “rein in” themselves, their appetites, their lust, their tendencies for idleness, will succeed. Those who fail in self-control are doomed to, at best, meritocracy, or, at worse, poverty.

I recognize that the issue of discipline/self-control is not a profound revelation. I’ve been reading the Proverbs all my life and often hear Solomon’s words of admonishment ringing in my ears -- “Take note of the ant, thou sluggard…” or “A little folding of the hands, a little slumber and your fields will grow over with weeds.” Coupled with the fact that I grew up in a family where “work” is defined as a physical activity, I can hardly sit down and read a book, write, study for future training without the feeling that I’m not worthy to eat. Though guilt should not be a motivator, the issue of self-control is still an issue that every person should give heed.

Mission mobilizer Paul Borthwhick defines discipline as chosen hardship. One chooses the hardship of not having a second helping of mashed potatoes, to turn off the computer and quit surfing the net, to get up early to study God’s Word, to keeping your mouth shut when you have a good piece of gossip or advice you’d like to pass on. The hardship one chooses varies, but it all falls under the category of discipline.

In the day we live, if one is not self-controlled they are probably a victim. In India one is a victim of dharma (born into the wrong caste determined by the works of a former life). In America the obese are victims of skewed thyroids, criminals are victims of a bad childhood, the divorced are victims of not being loved, the poor are victims of an unjust government system. To be sure there are social inequities, physiological and physical deficiencies, but, for the most part, the lack of self-control is the major culprit. The ant cannot make an appeal for his marginal insectness…it’s still a bug that, notwithstanding, must gather food for the winter. Insects instinctively are disciplined to work or they will die. It’s only the higher form of animal that must notice the lesser to gain lessons on the importance of chosen hardships.

The challenge for me, and I suspect anyone who takes time to read this blog, is identifying the discipline needed and then be active in that chosen hardship? It’s not always the upfront work is that is most needed, but usually the mundane tasks that determine success or failure. In the book, “The Shaping Of Things To Come,” the author’s write about the importance of the task before the task.

“If we think about fishing during Jesus’ time the key to successful fishing wasn’t in the technical details of tides and weather patterns, but in the strength of the nets. For this reason, Jesus’ fishing disciples spent most of their working day, not out on the lakes’ surface, but on shore, mending nets.”

Mending nets is a chosen hardship. So, too, may be sitting with your child or spouse and listening to their stories. Writing three hours a day, walking around the track for an hour, or trying to figure out a computer program. I often hear new missionaries talk about how they aren’t doing ministry yet, but are just learning language. I remind that language learning is ministry and it falls in the category of mending nets, which is the task before the task.

The chosen hardship is valid when it points to a goal, but the goal can be subtle and surely cannot be judged by others. Whatever our chosen hardships are, without discipline or self-control the goal will never be realized and most certainly the weeds of an undisciplined life will one day take over.

God's Grace At C-543

“One of my greatest regrets,” my eighty-six year old friend, Mr. J., confessed to me, “is that we didn’t have more children. I bought into the notion that our country is over-populated and that it would be better for us as a nation, as well as for each family, if we everyone had fewer children. We terminated a couple of pregnancies which, now, I realize was a mistake.”

In the Indian society nothing is more important than family. Almost every Bollywood movie has a family theme – father/son conflicts, daughter-in-law/husband difficulties, etc. The largest segment in the Sunday paper is the matrimonial section where want ads are placed by parents looking for suitable partners for their son or daughter. Daily there are news reports of daughter-in-laws that have either committed suicide or murdered because of dowry demands; female infanticide is common. Family in the Indian society is not just the outgrowth of a biological union, it’s the heart and soul of their very existence.

The J’s had two children, the eldest a daughter, the second born a son. As in many developing countries, daughters are not as “prized” as sons. The girl, in reality, is a bit of a burden to the social framework. Dowry, the system where the family of the girl pays the family of the boy to get married, is a hardship for the poor. When a girl does get married she basically leaves her father and mother’s family and becomes a part of the husband’s family. To be quite honest, a girl is a liability.

Having a son is like stock and bonds. The boy will contribute to the family unit economy throughout his lifetime and even in marriage will add to the household workforce. In Mr. J’s thinking he was doing the right things by not having more children after their son was born…he had contributed to society as a whole, plus his son insured him security in his old age, or so he assumed.

When my wife and I met the J’s we didn’t realize we were the first tenants to live in their deceased son’s apartment. Tragically, their son died of leukemia five years before. The daughter-in-law and grand-daughter moved out (according to her, asked to leave) a few months after his death. The apartment remained empty and each December 5th held a puja (Hindu prayer service) for their son.

Overtime in my conversations with Mr. J. I gained insights into his worldview as it relates to the death of his son. He partly blames his daughter-in-law for his demise, as superstition by some in that culture accuse the widow for the source of misfortune. Mr. J. believes he is probably the reason of his son’s death and suggests it is the sins of his former life as the reason the god’s took his only son.

Because our friendship has grown over the years, I have become almost a surrogate son to Mr. J. Certainly not in a legal or financial sense, but my visits with him each evening provide a solace for a lonely old man who is dying without much family. Though Mr. J. does not know the God I know and often speaks harshly of a God who would make him suffer, I marvel at God’s grace on my dear friend. Knowing that it is the goodness of God that draws people to Himself, there is a reason I dwell on the first floor of C-543.

Conversations At C-543

In December 2003 my wife and I made a rental contract with a man I will refer to as Mr. J. The apartment is less that a 1000 sq. ft has two bedrooms, sitting room and two bathrooms. There is neither hot nor cold and running water, just a pipe that runs from the water tank on the roof. Daytime temperatures determine whether our bucket baths are hot or cold. C-543, a section of the city where we live, is a typical flat of 1960’s construction, which includes a kitchen that is the size of a walk-in-closet in the states.

When we met Mr. J. for the first time he was wearing a white khadi kurta and a Nehru hat. He was a pleasant man with impeccable English and, as we quickly found out, opinionated.

“Are you a Muslim,” he asked?

“No,” I replied, “I’m a Christian from America. Is that a problem?”

“Being an American is not too much of a problem. I usually don’t rent to Americans as they are fussy and make too many demands to rent the apartment,” he said. Then he added, “I never rent to Muslims.”

Through tea and biscuits (cookies) we learned more about each other. The J’s were in their early 80’s, Punjabi’s originally from Lahore (Pakistan) who was forced out of their home at the time of partition (when India and Pakistan divided into two countries after independence from Britain in 1948). Since being displaced from his homeland Mr. J. has a disdain from Muslims and thus the reason for his question about my religion. He told me that with my beard I looked like a mullah, a Muslim teacher. If I have had been an American Muslim he probably wouldn’t have rented to us.

The J’s are not in good health. Mrs. J is a plumb woman with diabetes. She is a kind woman who is a practicing Hindu who prays each morning before her god and is a strict vegetarian. Mr. J. has diseased esophagus and can only drink soup six times a day. Mr. J is an educated man with a PhD in economics and before retirement worked for the government. Mr. J is a cultural Hindu who has never been a religious person; probably an agonistic at best and I suspect much of his life he was an atheist.

We have lived above the J’s nearly four years. Mr. J. is now bedfast and only with great effort is he able to go to the toilet. His days and nights are spent in bed wishing to die. Last week my wife and I recently returned to the states for the summer and as I said goodbye to my eighty-six year old friend, who now weighs less than eighty pounds, I wonder if he will be alive when I return to India in July?

Each evening when I am in town I visit this dear old man and we discuss everything from the price of papaya to politics to religion. Mr. J. has given me many insights into the Indian culture, especially the worldview of a past generation. In the next few posts I will be sharing my conversations with my landlord at C-543 who has become a good friend whom I have learned to love. The great mystery to me is why God would orchestrate us finding each other? In a city of 12 million people our relationship is not by chance, though I do not see our relationship having any eternal value. Whatever the reason for our relationship I hope you will enjoy some of the insights gained in the conversation at C-543.

Sharing Life

You can have a ton of money, be top in your professional field and receive accolades from others. You can circle the globe and see the Seven Wonders of the World, and more, but if you can’t share your of life with others, it all seems hollow and empty.

This past month my wife and I have had the privilege to have our eldest daughter, Becky, and our first grandchild, Molly, share the experience of living in India. From the wonderful colors of the bazaar to the taste of achari paneer; from the elephant ride up to Nahargarh Fort in Rajahstan to auto rickshaws in the congested city of Delhi we have experienced a slice of life together. In between our work and daily chores we schedule one more trip to a museum or a Hindi movie while suffering through the 105 degree heat. At the end of day, exhausted, I wonder if it’s worth it and even a bit guilty that I am not doing more work, you know, the really important things of life? I catch myself in mid-thought, reminding myself that the work will always be there but the chance to share this part of my life with my children and grandchildren is a one-time deal.


Becky (and our youngest daughter, Sara who is scheduled to visit us in August), were blessed/cursed to be born to nomadic parents. Unlike many families in the world, where people settle in and around the extended family, in the nearly thirty-nine years of marriage Sandy and I have never lived near our parents, siblings, and now, children. What is interesting about our roving life is that we are one of the closest families in our kinship clan. Though we are seldom together in one place, when we are it’s like we have never been apart and we pick up where we left off the last time we saw each other.

Sharing life with my wife and daughters is special, but God has allowed me to live long enough to share life experiences with my grandchildren. I regret that my grandson, Collin, couldn’t make this trip, but blessed that Molly could take time away from school to make this trek to India. When Doc and Grammy are no longer anymore she perhaps will recount her adventure to her grandchildren. Perhaps the memory of our existence on this earth will go beyond two generations. I wonder which of our grandchildren will follow the nomadic lifestyle of their grandparents?

As we all know, life is but a shadow. With all thy getting, get some time, share some time with others. Blessed is the man or woman who can live well and can slice off part of that life with others to experience.