To The Churches Of America Write...

Dear American churches,

Over the past several years I have spent countless hours watching your obvious spiritual decline.  It has been both painful and horrifying to watch you blindly hurtle down the path of least resistance. Indeed, your demise appears to be hastening as if following a schedule of self destruction you are duty bound to keep. Although not all of your members fall into this category, the number of inductees into the Indifference Hall of Fame increases daily.  And even if numbers are up and churches are larger, true religion is conspicuously lacking.

Recently, while contemplating your plight,  I thought to wonder what John, the writer of Revelation, would have written to you, the churches of America. Admittedly, my mind went down more than one rabbit hole.  The offenses are many and not small. Where would I start on today's church? What could possibly be said to turn you in the right direction? In a moment of clarity, I ask God what HE would say to you.  His answer was simple, immediate, and echoed the words he spoke so long ago to Simon Peter, "Lovest thou me?" (John 21:15-17)

I am horrifically appalled that God has to ask. I am embarrassed that He doesn't recognize you.  I am deeply pained that your love has dwindled to the point it is no longer obvious. You are recognizable as many things, but lovers of Christ is not one of them.  True love for Christ means adherence to his laws, respect for his Word, and love for the lost.  It means that God is the center of your life, not simply a part of it. It is true devotion. But it is not something that is obvious in your halls today.

Somewhere along the way you have drifted. You seem to have forgotten the snap of the whip, the prick of the thorns, the weight of the cross, the pain of the nails.  You have become indifferent to the extravagant price Jesus paid that you might gain Heaven.  You have become blase in your devotion. Like the ancient churches in Revelation 2 and 3, you have given yourself over to formalism, half-heartedness, and misplaced self-righteousness.  False doctrines have knocked, shown a good face, and you were drawn aside.  Many of you claim to be alive but are dead because, like the church of Ephesus, you have left your first love. (Revelation 2:4)

In short, your lack of love for God has left you in the same dire straights as the church of Laodicea.  John had some very strong words for them.  He called them half-hearted, backslidden, indifferent, and self-righteous.  He said they were unpalatable because they were neither hot nor cold.  (Revelation 3:15-17)  He could pen those same words to you. You are lukewarm.  You are undesirable. You are tasteless.  You are unattractive--both to God and the unchurched. So we are back to the question, "Do you love God?"  At all?

Sadly, too many of you cannot positively answer that question.  Anymore, the search for those who truly love Him is reminiscent of Abraham's search for righteous souls in Sodom--not even 10 can be found. (Genesis 18:32)  There are hundreds of sanctuaries across America that will fill to overflowing on Sunday morning to perform a social ritual and, although the music may work your emotions and the preacher say something touching, true love toward God will be dismally absent.  It is in these services, if one but looks, you will see Christ walking the aisles, tears in his sad eyes, nail-scarred hands outstretched, gently yet urgently imploring, "Do you love me?"

How about it, church?  Do you love him?

It is not enough to gather on Sunday, sing some songs, sit through some preaching then run off to the mall, the ball game, the pool.  It is not enough to go on a mission trip or write a check to charity. Loving God means keeping his commandments when no one else is doing it.  It means calling sin, sin, when everyone else is willing to rewrite the Bible.  It means loving others indiscriminately, remembering that we are all sinners condemned to death if not for grace. Loving God means resting in the promises of his Word, sharing his love, mercy, and grace, and living in the knowledge that Heaven awaits the faithful. (Revelation 2:10)

So close your eyes.  Picture your church sanctuary.  It is Sunday morning.  The pews are full.  When the time comes to start the service, there is no music, no cheerful greeting from the pulpit, no responsive reading. You look to the front wondering why they are running late. You have things to do after service and need to check this box.  Then you see him, standing in the middle of the stage.  You've never seen someone look so sad.  Whispers go through the audience.  No one knows who he is or what he's doing.  As the crowd quiets, he holds out his hands, palms up.  Because you are in your holy seat, right next to the stage, you see terrible scars across his hands.  In the back of your mind recognition is struggling to be born.  Then, across the suffocating silence you hear his whisper, "Do you love me?"

Do you love him?  Is it evident, or does he have to ask?