In 1638, dissenter Roger Williams was banished from the Massachusetts Bay Colony. He made his way to the nether regions of New England, to an unpopulated area south of the Mass Bay. He came to what we now know as Rhode Island. There, as a fledgling Baptist himself, Williams founded the city of Providence, a theological nod to man’s dependence on God, and he founded the first Baptist church in the New World.

The church building that I visited today was not built by Roger Williams. He didn’t stay Baptist long enough to build any kind of church, figuratively or literally. He remained a Baptist for just several months before deciding no church was truly true to Scripture and chose to wait it out, ecclesiastically speaking, until the coming of Christ.

The church Williams started did grow. A few years later another Baptist congregation would show up in Newport founded by John Clark. But it’s the story of Williams’ church that is fascinating and instructive.

Founded in 1638, FBCA puttered along, making the case for religious freedom in the colonies. That freedom was largely granted in the Rhode Island colony years before it took hold anywhere else. Unhappy with the freedom that they founded, FBCA would, in the early 1700s, make a number of moves towards respectability. They built a building along the lines of the model presented by the Congregationalists in New England (no, still not the building I visited). They sought an educated clergy, the built walls and doors around their pews (really) and charged rent to the occupants to pay the salary of the pastor. They wanted to be and became more like their neighbors.

With the quest for respectability came other challenges. When you seek to please those outside of the church, you run the risk of displeasing the ideals of the founders of the church. Over time, FBCA moved slowly away from Williams’ and the early Baptists’ roots and theology. They compromised on small issues and then larger. Today, FBCA is theologically a shell of what it once was. Yes, they have a beautiful building (built in 1775). Yes, they have an amazing legacy. Yes, they’ve left the theological fold. The church is, for all intents and purposes, moderate theologically at best, liberal at worst. The photo directory that I saw betrays a small but graying population who wouldn’t fill but a couple dozen of the pew boxes. What Williams launched and walked away from has, seemingly, joined him in his quest to find true Christian identity somewhere else. With that move, his founding vision has died with him and the founding members.

I’m afraid the same thing may happen one day to the Southern Baptist Convention. Like FBCA, we have a long history. We’ve had notable leaders. We’ve made valuable contributions to Christianity in America. And, like FBCA, we’re growing older. We have an up and coming generation that knows not Williams or the ideals of earlier generations. Like FBCA, we have many churches that look beautiful on the outside but are hollow on the inside.

We must do something before we end up like FBCA. If we don’t act soon to promote true Baptist identity and propogate Baptist theology that is based on the Bible, the SBC will one day be but an attraction for curiousity seekers and history buffs. “Remember when,” they will ask, “the Southern Baptist Convention meant something?” May that never be. To prevent that version of history, we must return to God, return to the Bible, and return to what it means to be a Baptist. If we don’t, the SBC will prove to be headed … nowhere.

This week I am at the Christian version of the “Revenge of the Nerds.” I and about 1000 other academic types have gathered in Providence, Rhode Island to find comfort and companionship among others interestbbed in the things that we like. There will be conclaves in the coffee shop over the proper use of the definite article (that’s the word “the” for you non-nerds) in the New Testament. I’ve heard conversations about various theologians beliefs on prayer. Some will debate which Bible translation is best while other will discuss the meaning of the death narratives in the Old Testament.

Boring you say? Irrelevant? Preaching to our own theological choir? Dry? Disconnected? Nerdy? Well, “maybe” is the appropriate answer to the last question. But, to the rest the right answer is “no.”

While the discussions may seem obtuse and some clearly come solely for the purpose of catching up with old friends or rubbing shoulders with those you hope will become new friends, these kind of meetings are truly beneficial. They’re beneficial not only for the attendees but also for the church. Done right, these things are done in the service of the church.

The matters we discuss aren’t nebuluous topics unrelated to the church. We’re dialoging on things intimately connected to the life and thought of the church. What could be more important than the meaning and extent of Christ’s atoning sacrifice? What could be more valuable than considering the way in which our theology and our spiritual lives connect? These things are directly related to the meaning and living of our faith.

So, this week, don’t pity us for our nerdy little conference. Don’t question the value of our abstract efforts. Pray for us that we might rightly discern God’s will and His ways and that He will take what we do here and us it to bring life to many dying churches. After all, as William Ames said, theology is none other than the doctrine of living to God.

The Bible has a few such jobs as well. Who wants to go tell Ahab and Jezebel that God doesn’t quite approve of what they’re doing? Who wants to be the bearer of bad news before Herod and Herodias? What kind of guys tells Nebuchadnezzar that his days are numbered? It’s one thing to be alive during the major course changes of world history but its another thing to be on the frontlines. If you remember correctly, Elijah had to run for his life, John the Baptist lost his head, and Daniel spent some time amongst the lions. These guys pulled some tough duty.

Most of us aren’t called of God to walk before the pagan firing squad. We aren’t going to operate in the circles that these biblical heroes experienced. Yet, there are other biblical heroes whose call to duty is much like ours. They were called not to successfulness but faithfulness. They were called to call others to God. They were called to people with hardened hearts. They were called to ministries with no earthly hope of success.

Consider for a moment Isaiah. Isaiah’s call to ministry comes in chapter 6. There he has a vision of God’s throne room. There he has an incredible religious experience. There, moved by the worship of the one true God, Isaiah responds to God’s question, “Who shall go for us,” with a hearty, “Here I am, send me.” Amen!

Those who’ve been tasked with recruiting missionaries love to preach of Isaiah’s willingness to go. And, he was willing. But, we dishonor the depth of Isaiah’s commitment if we ignore the fact that he was commissioned to go forth to a people who didn’t want to hear his message (just like many of us today). Worse yet, God told Isaiah that no one would respond. Isaiah was called to a dead end ministry with no hope of worldly success. He wasn’t going to see a revival. He wasn’t going to facilitate a major church growth spurt. He was called to preach to a rebellious people whom God already knew would not respond. You see, Isaiah wasn’t called to sucess. He was called to obedience. That’s tough duty.

Jeremiah experienced the same fate. He was set aside from the womb for the great task of preaching repentance to his countrymen. Yet, he too knew that there was no hope. His message would go unanswered just as God had warned. The people would not listen. The people would not respond. Jeremiah would preach. The people would sin. Jeremiah would preach some more. The people would sin some more. It was a lose-lose proposition for Jeremiah, yet he continued on in the face of stern opposition. Now, that’s tough duty.

Today, many of us need to learn the powerful lessons contained in the stories of Isaiah and Jeremiah. Too many of us become quickly disheartened when the world doesn’t jump for joy at our proclamation of the gospel. Too many give up hope and then give up trying.

That’s just the laypeople. Those called to the ministry vocationally don’t do much better and that’s much worse. They feel called of God to serve him. They feel led to go to churches where they can make a difference. Then, frustrated with the lack of progress, dismayed by the obstinance of a church full of sinners, they cry “uncle” and beg God to send them somewhere else, to someone else who will soak up their words of wisdom and sing their praises to their neighbors.

Good luck, gentlemen. God doesn’t call pastors to success. God call ministers to faithfulness.

Imagine the Bible without Isaiah 53. It’s not inconceivable if Isaiah had given up as easily as many of us do. Imagine the New Covenant without Jeremiah 31. It’s not hard to think that Jeremiah could have walked away in despair 13 chapters earlier when he complained of the people’s rebellion. Now, imagine many of our churches if someone didn’t step up, answer the call to tough duty, and love the unlovable in many of our pews.

The Christian walk, Christian ministry … those things are tough duty. Don’t measure the value of your efforts by the so-called marks of success. Measure your success by your faithfulness to those things that God has called you to do. It may be tough duty but it’s rewarding duty.

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What is the church? Is it a Christian country club? A place where a bunch of people with warm feelings for Jesus hang out? It seems that many Christians aren’t really sure anymore.

Think about the statistics for just a moment. The Southern Baptist Convention boasts a membership of over 16 million people. However, on any given Sunday, you may only find about half of them in church. That’s 8 million so-called Christians missing in action.

So, what’s the problem?

We’ve forgotten what church membership is supposed to be –- a commitment.

In this day and age of rampant no-fault divorce and easy bankruptcy, it’s not popular to talk about commitment. In fact, it almost seems like commitment has not only gone out of style but that it has been removed from the American vocabulary. Unfortunately, that lackadaisical attitude has crept into the church and is robbing us of our resources, our people and our ability to make a difference.

Given the moral and spiritual condition of our country and our families, we need to recommit ourselves to the church or it soon will be committed to the junk-heap of long-forgotten fads like the hula hoop and New Coke.

Church membership has always been about commitment. For whatever reason, though, Christians have lost sight of that fact. Church membership involves three basic commitments.

First, it entails a commitment to Christ. You can’t just walk in off the street and sign up to be a member of a church. You can’t just pay your dues and get in. The financial cost of membership is too high. None of us could afford it.

Here’s the good news, though. Christ has paid it all. His death on the cross has paid the way. He’s purchased our souls. He’s redeemed us for His glory.

For that reason, we expect –- we demand –- that our members be professing believers in Jesus Christ. We’re not talking about warm feelings or fond memories of singing “Jesus Loves Me” when we were five years old. We’re talking about a whole-hearted, sold-out, life-or-death loving relationship with the Savior of mankind. Without that kind of commitment, there is no salvation. Without that kind of commitment, there is no church membership.

Second, church membership requires a commitment to Christian living. When you join the church as a believer, you profess that you have been redeemed, that you have repented of your sins and that Christ is in the process of sanctifying your soul.

Most churches have a covenant, a written promise from one member to another to live and act in a Christ-like manner. This covenant is entered voluntarily as one joins the church. Perhaps you’ve never seen it. Perhaps you didn’t even know that it existed. But, more than likely, it does. When you join a church you agreed to live by its biblical principles. You agreed to accept its consequences, the discipline of the church, should you violate its trust.

Valid, vibrant church membership depends upon the members living in a manner that pleases Christ, a manner that does not besmirch His name, a manner that advertises to the world that this church –- Christ’s church -– is a very special place with very special people. That kind of living demands a commitment.

Third, church membership involves a commitment to other Christians. When you join the church, you join a living organism, the earthly representation of God’s reign and Christ’s work.

The church, this body of believers, lives and breathes as its members do. As in the human body, when all of the parts are functioning correctly, when all of its limbs are healthy, the church is healthy. When one organ fails, it invariably stresses the others. Yet when enough organs fail, the body goes into shock.

Church shock comes in many forms but the results are often the same. Members begin to withdraw. Cliques are formed. Some people are shunned while others are ignored. Before you know it, the disease of selfishness has run roughshod through the church and the prognosis is often fatal.

The remedy? A selfless commitment to others, a living fulfillment of the Christ’s command to love others as yourself.

So, this Sunday take a good look around. Look at the Bible. See what it says about salvation and sanctification. Look at yourself. See if you’re living the way that Christ demands. Look at those sitting around you. See if you see them as God does. Then recommit yourself to meaningful church membership.

But rather than celebrating the new year, the members of Van Buren Baptist Church in Louisville, Ky., held a wake several years ago. Mind you, it wasn’t your normal kind of wake. There were no flowers. No guestbook to sign. No funeral director standing discreetly by to offer his assistance. However, there was a body — the church body. On Jan. 2, 2005, we laid a church to rest. I find myself thinking about that church, it’s members and our sweet goodbye.

Like cancer, the death of a church is a long, painful process. For months, years even, you feel like something is not quite right but you can’t put your finger on it. You try to lose weight. You start exercising and eating right. When those things don’t work, you buy the latest self-help book, hoping that you can find an answer to all that ails you. Next, you call in an expert. You carefully examine every area of your life, trying to identify the malady. And, then, comes the news and it’s all bad. The church is dying and there’s little hope.

That’s the way it was for Van Buren. They had once been healthy and vibrant. But something happened. It’s hard to say what it was. It probably wasn’t any one thing but a laundry list of little things, seemingly innocuous at the time. The church realized something wasn’t right. Old members were leaving or dying and new members weren’t coming. They tried all the right things: expository preaching, outreach events, Vacation Bible School, community picnics and, of course, a healthy dose of prayer.

During one Christmas they even gave every family in the community, 400 homes, a Bible trying to reach out to their neighbors. But, in the end, it wasn’t to be. The diagnosis was dark, the disease fatal. The church died.

Like the doctor who delivers the somber news and stands by the patient until the end, I had the distinction of being their pastor in the end. I led the meeting where we discussed the prospects for the future. I encouraged them to face the facts. The church they loved — and some had nourished from its birth 40 years earlier — was sick and needed help. In the end, they bravely faced the news, evaluated the situation, and determined they did not have the resources — financial and human — to carry on beyond 2004 unless God supernaturally remedied the situation. He sovereignly chose not to do so, and so they bowed out gracefully, singing of God’s glory, finding hope in Paul’s confidence that God’s work in their lives was not finished (Philippians 1:6). They closed their doors with an emotional rendition of “Without Him.”

Experts warn us that around 70 percent of all Southern Baptist churches have plateaued or are declining. That means that approximately 28,700 congregations are showing the same signs of decline or disease as Van Buren. The causes may be different but the prognosis is the same. Unless, by the grace of God, we turn our churches around, I won’t be the only pastor to deliver a eulogy for his church this year.

Take it from a survivor, you don’t want to go through this valley. But, be warned. If you’re slow in waking from your ecclesiastical slumber, it may be too late. You may wake up to your own church’s wake.

Rest in peace, Van Buren Baptist Church.

The convention is also interesting because it reminds us of the generation gap that exists in our convention at both the state and national level.

In the 1960s, America struggled with how to overcome the generation gap that was exposed in that turbulent decade. Ozzy and Harriet had to figure out how to relate to and communicate with their rebellious teens and college students. In many ways, the 1960s was a course changing period for America. The good and the bad of those years continues to influence American politics and culture.

Today, we have a similar situation amongst Southern Baptists. As you look at the attendees at your average gathering, the average age is probably 60 years old. Ozzy and Harriet Baptist come every year. The problem is that there are few in their 30s and 40s and virtually no one in their 20s in attendace. The so-called “graying of America” is on the fast track in the Baptist world. There are few young people involved.

Many reasons can be suggested for this generation gap. One might argue that younger ministers and laypeople just can’t find the time to go to a convention in the middle of the state in the middle of their busy week. That might account for some. Others might contend that the younger generations find the conventions distracting, too political, and of little practical value. They’d rather go knock on doors, go visit someone in the hospital, work on their sermon, or have teeth pulled. That’s possible, too.

I think Jimmy Draper, former president of LifeWay Christian Resources, was on to something several years ago when he tried to train the extensive resources at his disposal on the “young leaders” of the Southern Baptist Convention. He saw a need and tried to address it. Thus far, in the short term, little has been accomplished. The problem is, there are very few young leaders. And those that do exist feel isolated and underappreciated. Sure, they lead in their local ministry or churches but few show up on the platform at the state level and even fewer at the national convention. The generation gap at the leadership level is clear and it is severe.

In defense of the 50 and 60-somethings who head most of our denominational machinery, their reluctance to embrace younger men and women in leadership was born out of decades of detrimental theological education at the seminary level. After years of moderate to liberal leadership, the conservatives came to distrust those produced by the seminaries in the 70s, 80s, and early 90s. What our elders so valiantly fought to accomplish, the Conservative Resurgence, is simply too valuable to trust to just anybody. I appreciate that concern.

However, those 20, 30 and early 40-something pastors and ministers out there weren’t trained in those seminaries. They’ve been educated and discipled by a cadre that was hand-picked by the leaders in the Resurgence. We are, in essence, second generation disciples of our current leadership. While a few 40 and early 50-somethings have broken through the age barrier and serve faithfully in our denomination, they are few. Far more have been passed over and brushed aside as Ozzy and Harriet continue to strive to protect the denomination. Unfortunately, they’re protecting us from us.

If we want to inject theologically sound but practical liveliness back into our meetings and our convention, the current leadership must embrace a new generation of younger leaders, men and women who are now the same age as our patriarchs were when they began the grassroots rebellion to reclaim the Convention. We need to identify and enlist (not reward) the up and coming leaders who will lead our denomination for the next 30 or 40 years. If they want to protect the biblical ground gained in the past two decades, our elder statesmen need to do this while there is still time for them to train their replacements. If they don’t, and if they don’t do it soon, their administration will be a lame duck and our beloved Southern Baptist Convention as we know it will die with the Greatest Generation.

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I’d never heard of Pat Tillman before he joined the Army in 2002.

Not being a big football fan, I had no idea that he played for the Arizona Cardinals. But the minute the story broke about his enlisting and volunteering to be a Ranger, I knew Pat Tillman because I was, at one time, just like Pat Tillman. I, too, was an Army Ranger.

Like so many others, I felt a certain amount of shock when his death was announced last week. I read with a great deal of personal interest all of the stories that appeared. I knew Pat Tillman because I knew guys just like him. Guys with that certain esprit de corps, that do-anything, go-anywhere attitude. You could see it in their eyes. It wasn’t pride and it wasn’t arrogance. But it wasn’t far from it. It’s that look that comes when you know that you’re ready to take what the world throws at you. Pat Tillman had that look.

Tillman was, in the football arena, the little engine that could, the little guy that somehow made it big. When he walked away from it all for the life of an Army Ranger, the media couldn’t understand why a young man in his professional prime would give up millions of dollars. Some thought him an idealist, a go-getter with a never-say-die attitude. Others heard him say that he wanted to do something for his country but they really didn’t understand. They never will. Not until they walk a mile in his shoes.

The same response came [in recent years] when Southern Baptist personnel were slain in Iraq. And before that in Yemen and in the Philippines. The media questioned the missionaries’ right to be in these foreign lands. They questioned their dedication to a cause that insists that it offers the only correct answer to life’s ultimate questions. While some acknowledged the great sacrifice of these soldiers of the cross, the media for the most part didn’t understand. They never will. Not until they take up a cross and follow Jesus.

Pat Tillman can teach us a thing or two about being an American. He was a hero. Not because he once played football for millions of dollars. Not because he jumped out of airplanes for thousands. Not even because he died in the line of duty, making the ultimate sacrifice. He was a hero because he was willing to do what so many can’t. He was a hero because he knew the Ranger creed and lived it:

– Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession, I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor and high esprit de corps of the Rangers.

– Acknowledging the fact that a Ranger is a more elite soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by land, sea or air, I accept the fact that as a Ranger my country expects me to move further, faster and fight harder than any other soldier.

– Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be, 100 percent and then some.

– Gallantly will I show the world that I am a specially selected and well-trained soldier. My courtesy to superior officers, neatness of dress and care of equipment shall set the example for others to follow.

– Energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country.

– Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission, though I be the lone survivor.

Pat Tillman was a hero because he heard the call to duty and answered.

In the end, Pat Tillman died for his country, going where millions of others couldn’t go.

So, too, will many of us die in the name of Christ. We have been given our marching orders: “Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations” (Matthew 28:19). We know the cost: “He who has found his life will lose it, and he who has lost his life for My sake will find it” (Matt 10:39).

Pat Tillman proudly wore the beret of an Army Ranger, carrying his nation’s colors into battle, willing to die for the cause. Are you carrying the cross of Christ and the sword of truth? Or have we learned nothing from those who’ve gone before us?

The problem is not that grace isn’t amazing. The problem is what the church has done to grace is amazing. We have preached such a consumer-friendly gospel for so long, grace has become cheap. Grace is easy. Grace is convenient. We talk about grace so much that we’ve lost touch with what is amazing about grace and how much it really cost.

Grace is amazing but it’s not cheap. It cost God His Son. It cost Jesus His life. You can’t get any more valuable than that. Yet, we talk about grace as though it comes easy. We talk about grace and play down the debt that was paid. We talk about grace as though it was free. It wasn’t. Jesus paid it all. All to Him I owe.

Grace is amazing but it doesn’t come cheap either. Yes, God freely offers salvation through grace to those who call upon the name of the Son. In that sense, it is free. But, it’s still not cheap. When God’s grace is shed upon us, it does cost us something. It costs us our freedom. We are no longer free. We’ve been bought with a price. We owe our wholehearted allegiance to Christ.

Some people, like the rich young ruler, aren’t ready to pay that cost. That’s the point at which we’ve cheapened grace. We preach a Gospel of free love and free living. We announce forgiveness for sins but we don’t renounce the commission of sins. We speak of salvation as though it is a “get out of jail” free card waiting to be used in eternity future and we ignore the fact that God’s grace demands repentance on our part. We are so afraid of sounding legalistic and muddying God’s grace with human efforts that we miss the point that God’s children are God’s children and no longer their own. By God’s grace we have been saved and through God’s grace we are called to a rewarding but difficult life of self-sacrifice. We’re called to the difficult road, not the easy.  God’s grace and with it salvation cost us nothing to attain but it comes with a high price: our very lives.

This man-centered gospel of cheap grace, easy believism, is preached in far too many pulpits. We call fallen man to salvation while ignoring the call to a changed life. We offer salvation in exchange for a spoken confession and maybe baptism. We don’t explain the costs. We don’t expect any change in return. Thus, our church rolls are fat with the names of unrepentant sinners, people who’s lives are no different today than they were the day before their profession of faith.

The Southern Baptist Church, righly evangelistic and rightly concerned with calling sinners to God’s amazing grace, has sometimes failed to admonish seekers to count the cost. Today, with spiritual inflation, the cost is much higher. Today, we have millions of individuals on our rolls relishing the idea that God’s has graciously saved them without considering the fact that there is little or no evidence of the new birth in their lives. Instead, day by day they become more gospel-proof as they assume their eternal fate is secure, their place in heaven bought with the blood of Christ. They assume the Gospel is for non-believers only. And, they invest nothing in their spiritual walk or the life of the church.

Grace is amazing. It wasn’t cheap. It cost Jesus everything. And, it isn’t cheap. It costs us everything. When Christ paid the price for our salvation, He paid the full price. And, He didn’t ask for His change from us. Instead, He demands a change in us, the change that He provides in those who are truly saved. Now, that’s real change and that’s amazing grace.

I’m 43 years old and the older I get, the better I was. It’s not that I feel old; it’s just that everyone else is starting to look younger and younger. I have become, contrary to my youthful wishes, my parents. I’m a little grayer, a little heavier, but hopefully a little wiser, too.

I’ve also come to realize the importance of my legacy. Webster’s dictionary defines “legacy” as an “inheritance,” something left behind for others. Some of us leave money for our loved ones. Others leave property. All leave memories. We all have a legacy.

The great Puritan preacher Jonathan Edwards left a lasting legacy — greater than his famous sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of An Angry God.” Born 305 years ago Oct. 5, Edwards has become a spiritual hero, influencing not only his immediate generation, but also those that followed. Fittingly, Edwards expressed great concern about his legacy even as a young man. Not yet 30 years old, he wrote, “I frequently hear persons in old age say how they would live if they were to live their lives over again. Resolved, that I will live just so as I can think I shall wish I had done, supposing I live to old age.”

Edwards died 35 years later but has been speaking to us ever since. Later in the 18th century, English Baptists looked to Edwards to provide the theological rationale that launched the “modern missionary movement.” Without it, William Carey would have never left for India. Early Southern Baptists like Furman, Manly and Johnson echoed the writings of Edwards in their sermons and their theology as well.

Today another generation has “discovered” Jonathan Edwards. While most Baptists could not agree with everything he said, nor should they, there is a treasure trove waiting to be mined in his sermons and theological writings, a calling to greater godliness. Edwards lays before us a challenge to live a Christian life worth remembering.

Eavesdrop as Edwards counsels a young believer: “In all your course, walk with God and follow Christ as a little, poor, helpless child, taking hold of Christ’s hand, keeping your eye on the mark of the wounds on his hands and side. From these wounds came the blood that cleanses you from sin and hides your nakedness under the shirt of the white shining robe of his righteousness.”

Does your faith exhibit that kind of trust?

Listen as he speaks about our loving God: “The more a true saint loves God with a gracious love, the more he desires to love him and the more uneasy is he at his want of love to him … the more he thirsts and longs after God and holiness, the more he longs to long, and breathe out his very soul in longings after God …”

Does that describe your love of God?

Read as he describes our relationship with God: “There are many reasons to think that what God has in view, in an increasing communication of himself through eternity, is an increasing knowledge of God, love to him, and joy in him. And it is to be considered that the more those divine communications increase in the creature, the more it becomes one with God; for so much the more is it united to God in love, the heart is drawn nearer and nearer to God, and the union with him becomes more firm and close, and at the same time, the creature becomes more and more conformed to God.”

Does your Christian walk reflect that closeness?

Jonathan Edwards was supremely concerned about the nature and content of the Christian faith. His works were not theological musings but biblical discipling. Ultimately, for himself, his legacy, and his spiritual progeny, Edwards had one great desire: the glory of God. The apostle Paul shared that same concern. “Whether, then, you eat or drink or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31).

Is that your greatest concern as well? Is that the legacy that you seek to leave? If so, put yourself under the authority of Scripture, in communion with other faithful believers in the local church and under the tutelage of a wise teacher like Jonathan Edwards.

Let us tell you about our ministries here at the Church of Generic Religion:

At the Church of Generic Religion our worship services are devoid of the name of Jesus. None of our songs feature the name of Christ. Instead, we sing generic sounding songs that praise the Lord/lord. We talk about the anonymous “you.” We sing of our love for “you.” Everyone can sing these songs. The Lord/lord is whatever he is to you. The “you” in your life can be whoever you want. Maybe he’s God, maybe he’s Jesus, maybe he’s somebody else. We’re not going to tell you that it’s Jesus. We hope you know that already. In the meantime, please feel at home, no matter who you really worship.

At the Church of Generic Religion we rarely mention the name of Jesus at all. Sure, we might close our prayers with the obligatory “in Jesus’ name.” Otherwise, you’re on your own to figure out who we really serve. We don’t talk about our offerings being given in response to Christ’s love for us. We forget to mention that we’ve gathered on Sunday because it’s the day of the Resurrection of Jesus. We hope you know all that but … it’s so obvious surely we don’t have to say it. In the meantime, feel free to hang out with us for an hour of friendly fellowship and generic religion. Everyone feels at home here.

At the Church of Generic Religion our sermons aren’t really sermons. We don’t want to preach “at” anyone. Instead, we offer motivational “talks” on any variety of relevant topics: parenting, budgeting, popular culture. You name it, we’ll help you figure it out. Sometimes we’ll talk about Jesus explicitly, particularly around the holidays when we want people to realize that Christmas is really about the baby in the manger not the rotund guy in the malls. Hang around long enough and we’ll return to our regularly scheduled series on how to be a better you. In the meantime, forgive our occasional name dropping. Be assured it’s temporary and not meant to offend.

If any of the above sounds appealing to you, please feel free to visit the Church of Generic Religion. Whether you’re a Christian, a Mormon, a Jew, a Muslim, or someone looking for friends, you feel at home with us.

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If any of the above worries you, welcome to the club. Unfortunately, too many of our churches today have relegated Jesus to the sideline. He’s playing third string to programs, sermonettes, and feel good music that has little to do with the penal substitutionary death of Jesus Christ. We really are there to worship Jesus, to learn more about Him, and to become more like Him, but we fail to make that clear to all involved.

Many mainline churches made the decision years ago to change denominations and join the worldwide Church of Generic Religion. Good riddance. Many of them haven’t been Christian in a long time. For them, leaving Christ out of church didn’t take much effort at all.

However, many well-meaning, theologically-conservative churches have accidentally joined the ranks of the Church of Generic Religion. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It was a mistake. It happened and they didn’t even know it.

Somewhere along the way, someone forgot to look closely at the words of the songs we sing. Not a word about Jesus. Not a note about God’s wrath, only His grace. We’ve taken the Gospel out of our songs, taken Jesus’ name off our lips, and we did it without even realizing. Next Sunday, listen to the lyrics you sing and ask yourself, “Is it clear that we’re singing about Jesus, the God-Man, or could we be singing about any religious leader?” You might be surprised by what you hear or, more accurately, what you don’t hear.

Somewhere along the way, we realized that our churches weren’t dealing with people where they are in life. So, we started focusing intentionally on the needs and problems of our people. So far, so good. Then we forgot that Jesus, not Dr Spock or John Maxwell or Dr Phil, is the answer to all the world’s problems. Next week, listen to the sermon closely. Analyze not the quality of the presentation but the content of the message. Does the pastor reference Jesus obliquely? Does he mention Jesus only in passing? Does he awkwardly try to insert Jesus in the closing minutes as a way to make that Old Testament passage on adultery Christian? Or, does he invoke the name and saving mission of Christ as the driving import of the entire sermon? If he doesn’t, you might be attending the Church of Generic Religion.

Don’t stop there. Notice how many or how few times the name of Christ comes up in church period. Far too often the only mention of Jesus is the sign off at the end of some generic prayer that could be lifted up by any church across the world, from the Baptist to the Jehovah’s Witness. Jesus is the reason we can and do gather for worship on Sunday morning. Let’s not forget that. Let’s not let those in attendance miss that.

The answer to this problem, the removal of Jesus from all things Christ accidental or otherwise, is not simply inserting Jesus’ name in our songs, in our sermons, and in our services. The answer is returning the church to its God-intended purpose: being a Christ-saturated, Jesus-driven, Messiah-preaching gathering of God’s people who can’t wait to tell others about what Christ has done for them. In other words, it’s all about Christ or it’s not church. When we return to that theme, we can proudly proclaim that we are a part of Jesus’ church, not the Church of Generic Religion.