It’s the reaction I seem to hear and read most often when a brother or sister in Christ in my fellowship disagrees with someone else’s less-traditional beliefs or understandings of scripture.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

I guess it’s the self-centeredness of the question that grates against me the most. The underlying sentiment doesn’t seem to be concern for the happiness of that person; it seems to express that they’re wrong … they’re causing strife … my church would be better off without them … and if they leave, that proves I’m right and I’m worshiping at the church with the right name on the sign out front and they’re heretics who should leave and the sooner they realize it, the purer my church will be.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

I get that impression from the anger in the voice when I hear it; the tone of the words when I read it. And from suggestions like, “…please remove the name Church of Christ from your identity so others will not confuse your false doctrine with that which is found in the scriptures.” (From the comment of a recent visitor with whom I disagreed.)

“Why don’t you just leave?”

It seems to be the solution of first resort. Obviously, it’s the solution that requires the least effort on the part of the one suggesting it. If the person who disagrees just goes away, then one doesn’t have to get into the messy business of gently instructing (2 Timothy 2:25) or gently restoring (Galatians 6:1) or dealing gently with those going astray (Hebrews 5:2). My, that’s a lot of inconvenient “gently”s.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

If the other leaves, one does not have to go to him or her (Matthew 5:23) or go a second time with a couple of friends, or a third time with the whole assembly (18:15). Goodness, that’s a bunch of “go”s – just a logistical nightmare making all of the appointments.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

It seems like the simple solution, doesn’t it?

Someone suggested it to me in the comments on this blog years ago when I expressed disagreement with traditional teachings that I don’t believe square up with scripture. (Their actual phrasing was: “Why do you stay in the church of Christ if you don’t think it should be distinctive?”)

My reply was: “I oppose the divisiveness of those who say ‘Why don’t you just leave?’ as if it were just a matter of trying on a new jacket, rather than leaving a family I love.”

And when I happened across that reply again recently, I realized what I had really said. When you say, “Why don’t you just leave?” and they do, you think that you don’t have to deal with that person, see that person, smile at and worship with and work with that person.

You don’t have to love them anymore.

But that’s a lie.

Think about all the people Paul had traveled far to meet, had worked with and learned to love and then moved on to plant another church and how hurt he was to learn they were turning from Christ to give in to self and Satan and how lovingly and sometimes angrily he wrote them to point them back out of their navels and toward the heavens … and each other! Why did he do that?

Because he loved them.

Just as surely from a distance as when they felt the embrace of his greeting and his holy kiss upon their cheeks.

Why?

Because Christ loved him, and gave Himself up for him. (Galatians 2:20; Ephesians 5:2; Philippians 2) John said it even more succinctly: “We love because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19) Wow. That’s a lot of love.

So in the future, I’m just going to abbreviate my response from those years ago. When someone asks, “Why don’t you just leave?”, my response will be:

“Why don’t you just love?”

Once upon a time …

… the one who was righteous looked down from his lofty position of superior knowledge and unimpeachable works, and decided that there were too many followers. Too many who believed on Jesus, the Lord and Son. It was time to winnow out the chaff, to weed out the thistles, to cleanse the threshing floor.

He decided that there should be laws, just as there had been in the Old Covenant, but unexpressed instead of explicit, camouflaged in the language of love in the New. He deigned that those who did not correctly and logically deduce them from the hidden hints in scripture should be forever lost, no matter how much they believed, or loved, or helped, or shared, or worshiped. Nor should there be any gift of the Holy Spirit to help in the deciphering; they should be on their own with just the Word and the brains given them.

They should be judged publicly and condemned before their peers to burn forever in unquenchable fire for their stupidity and inability to decipher the silent commands or to obey the unspoken laws. It was to be justice for all and mercy toward none.

For no one who did not see things exactly the same way that he did should deserve to live happily ever after – the promises of grace notwithstanding, nor the blood of the Son, nor the love of a Father.

Fortunately, he was not God. He was a preacher at a church he wished was bigger … or an editor of a newsprint periodical … or a speaker at conferences that defend the hidden truth and mark the disagreeable … or a troller of blogs, in search of heretics to reel in and gut and then hang out to dry.

Sadly, he was unaware or unwilling to believe that Jesus really meant what He said in Matthew 7:2 and Luke 6:37 … that those words were not fairy tale, but Spirit and truth.

Yet he was also a beloved brother, a fellow believer, loved by God, redeemed by grace, bought by blood. There were, and still are, many of him.

So we pray.

And we hope.

Not too long ago, I posted all of my bad bar jokes on Facebook. Here are a few:

A man walked into a bar and fell unconscious on the floor. It was a chin-up bar.

A man walked into a bar and ordered a Godiva chocolate liqueur. The bouncer threw him out. It was a Hershey bar.

A man walked into a bar with his collar open. The bouncer threw him out. It was a tie bar.

A man walked into a bar to pay off his tab but his bank account was on hold, so the bouncer threw him out. It was a no-holds bar.

A miserably depressed man walked into a bar and the bouncer threw him out. It was a gay bar.

A man walked into a bar, twirling an absurdly long mustache and the bouncer threw him out. It was a handlebar.

A mime walked into a bar, but the bouncer threw him out. It was a karaoke bar.

A lactose-intolerant man walked into a bar, but shortly thereafter threw up before finishing what he’d ordered. It was an ice-cream bar.

(They were all jokes about a man who had failed to enter the kind of bar where he would fit in and find refreshment and camaraderie and I was going somewhere with it, but I forgot where.)

A mildly-forgetful man walked into a bar and … no, wait. That was me.

Probably because of a recent head injury.

A man walked into a bar and hurt himself. He should have used the door.

I saved the very worst until last, for this post:

A man walked into a bar and ordered a beer. “We don’t serve beer; we serve customers,” the marketing manager told him. He asked, “What happened to the bartender?” The CEO replied that the position was right-sized for economic reasons. So the man asked, “What happened to the beer?” The vice president of finance responded that the costs of purchase, transportation, cold storage and distribution were prohibitive, and it was decided to move that part of the operation online. But, the marketing manager added, the firm was doing very well promoting the idea of beer and the experience of beer; in fact, at the bar and in a couple of the booths there were usually several people each week discussing how thirsty they were and how much they would enjoy a beer right then … and there was, of course, free wi-fi. “But how do you make any money?” the man asked. They all chorused: “Volume!”

It was a foobar.

(“Foobar”, in computer programming, is the name for a variable which has no relevant meaning – and it should be distinguished from its acronymal cousin, fubar. At least a little distinguished.)

And that was not so much a joke as it was a sad commentary on the current state of American commerce. After all, imagine:

A bar without beer.

Sort of like a church without Christ.

– But I digress.

“It is not as though God’s word had failed. For not all who are descended from Israel are Israel.” ~ Romans 9:6

I have a little bit of hero worship going on in my heart toward the saints who began the Restoration Movement more than two hundred years ago. They were people of great courage, enormous faithfulness to the scripture, and an irenic, Christ-like spirit. Yet they were also products of their time as well as their choices, just like you or me or the disciples of century one or anyone else.

Sometimes we choose wisely. Sometimes we don’t.

But there’s a good chance that the factors affecting our choices are shaped by the era and circumstances which surround us.

In short, the Restoration’s prime movers were men, dedicated to restoring a unified, non-denominational church at a time when a new nation had been formed of many united states. Their modus operandus was much the same as that of the nation’s founders: issue a sort of declaration of independence (Barton W. Stone’s document, the Last Will and Testament of the Springfield Presbytery) and then a sort of constitution (Alexander Campbell’s Declaration and Address). Within a few years, their groups discovered each other and merged as a unity movement called “The Christian Connexion” (sometimes “Connection”). It was all very modern, very rational, institutional, very corporate, and all very, very American.

As well as very, very focused on the church.

While there is nothing essentially wrong with that – and the language of both documents and other initial writings urges a faithful conformity to the life and teachings of Christ as revealed in the Bible – it must be, not balanced by, but superceded, by a focus on Him. The focus of the generations that followed became more and more on the church and less and less on Christ.

In that way, the Restoration Movement succeeded in the succeeding generations – duplicating the church of century one and all of its difficulties: the congregations became fraught with issues of structure and function and office and practice and tradition and some members lording their supposed superiority over others and propounding misconceptions about the return of Christ and precepts of men being taught as doctrines of God. So, of course, the unity movement of century nineteen seceded into factions over all these teachings of men.

In short, the New Testament church was almost fully restored as it had existed in century one.

Except that, in those more “modern” and “enlightened” times, the scripture became law by which others must be judged rather than the gentle yet firm instructions of the Righteous Judge would guide the lives of those who love Him back, along with the presence of His Spirit in their lives. Somehow, even that Spirit was judged inferior to the written word, and was banished to a place of retirement, trapped for all time within its pages.

Vestiges of that belief system persist today, loudly judging others and proclaiming their righteous superiority and “marking” by name those who dare to question it or the conclusions they have reached in order to earn it.

I began this post with a verse from Paul’s letter to the believers at Rome, describing his yearning for those of his Jewish heritage to be as accepting of Christ as Gentiles had been. He was pointing out that the failure to accept Christ was a matter of individual choice, not of the insufficiency of God’s word. In the wake of the law’s fulfillment in Christ, the time had simply come for something better than law.

I believe it’s time for something better than a church-focused church. I believe it’s time for twenty-first century revival, not nineteenth. I believe it’s time for a new Restoration Movement, a movement that seeks to restore souls to Christ.

Starting with our own.

Over time – inspired by the Spirit to share the gospel Story – that will restore the church, the assembled saints, as the natural result.

There is nothing intrinsically wrong with going to church in a building on a Sunday, hearing God’s word preached by a paid full-time preacher, praying together, singing together, observing the Lord’s Supper together, giving of our means to support the church, all while men do the leading. But in addition to those “acts of worship” which have been legislated as the only biblically-authorized ones by some of our forebears in fellowship, there is also nothing intrinsically wrong with:

• Meeting other days of the week, breaking bread together at places of worship and in homes, sharing goods and possessions with each other so that no one has need, and praising God. ~ Acts 2:42-47
• Giving to relieve suffering ~ Acts 11:27-30
• Giving to the poor ~ Acts 24:17
• Part-time / vocational ministry ~ Acts 18:3
• More than one speaker and discussion when the church is assembled (as long as it edifies) ~ 1 Corinthians 14:29-32
• Women praying and prophesying ~ 1 Corinthians 11:3-9
• Worship with instruments, which are obviously not intrinsically offensive to God ~ Revelation 15:2

What makes these things (and many, many other ways to worship God ~ Romans 12:1-2) permissible? Well, in addition to the fact that they are right there in scripture, they also reflect what Christ did and taught in century one … rather than the rules and regulations laid down by men between then and now, based on assumptions and interpretations and sometimes outright additions to and subtractions from scripture. Forcibly retiring the Holy Spirit from His role in helping open that scripture to our hearts – quenching His fire, in other words – has been our failure by choice. Making the church of first importance, rather than Christ, is where we as a Restoration fellowship – as well as many, many other modern fellowships and movements – have gone wrong.

It is not as though God’s word had failed.

But for the true Israel of God’s people to seek and find Him, our goal should not be so much the restoration of a fallen church as the transformation of a risen Christ.

…my “unique viewers” counter will roll over 70,000 since January 7, 2005.

Most web statisticians will agree that means that only between 15-35,000 of those are actual, unique viewers. I’m pretty sure the numbers have slowed from a good-sized banquet gathering to a booth at the coffee bar, so “the next few days” is only a guess. Of those numbers, some will have dropped their blogging habit in favor of Facebook or Twitter or the next thing that requires fewer words, thoughts and commitment. I’m sure some will have only stayed long enough at this blog to learn they’re not interested, or are offended.

(Mike Cope once told me while still preaching at Highland that his personal motto was “A little something to offend everyone.” I still like that.)

I’m not big into the numbers. (I probably haven’t checked that dumb counter for weeks; just happened to see it when scrolling down to review an older post.) I’m not offering a prize for viewer #70,000. (It’d be junk, anyway. That’s all I own. Junk and stuff. I use the stuff and look at the junk.)

So, here’s a little something to offend and disappoint everyone:

I think the Restoration Movement started off in the wrong direction, and is still pursuing it.

I believe the whole idea of trying to restore the New Testament church of century one is wrong-headed (though probably right-hearted) and has led us into the divisive, contentious, denominational morass that at least some folks are willing to recognize for what it is.

(Mother Lemming to Teenage Son: “Well, if all your friends were jumping off a cliff, would you do it, too?” Teenage Son: “Duh! – Of course!” Maybe our fellowship’s plight is not that desperate. Or is it?)

Instead of trying to be like an institution of imperfect people – sinful people, made perfect by the blood of Christ – shouldn’t we have been trying to just be like Christ?

Even Paul instructs that he should be followed only inasfar as he follows Christ.

The whole Restoration exercise has made us church-centered instead of Christ-centered. We preach church instead of Christ. We preach what to do instead of what He has done – and is doing, and would like to do through us, if we’d just let Him. And far too often, we preach as doctrines of God what are really precepts and interpretations and legislations of men. Law, in other words, which cannot save. (Paul said that. I believe him.)

I don’t want to be like the church of the first century. Or the eighteenth century. Or the twentieth, or even the twenty-first. I want to be like Jesus.

But I need your help.

I need to know who Jesus is, and what I understand about Him that’s right, and what I misunderstand about Him that’s wrong. I need His Spirit inside me and His family – His church – around me. I need the comfort and reassurance of God without and within me.

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

I believe that’s why God puts us, the lonely, in His family – so that we can see Christ in each other and get to know Him better.

I don’t give a flying flip anymore about who is in and who is out of the church, the saved, the redeemed. I’ll talk about Jesus Christ with anyone, and let God decide – and I will be glad to listen to what anyone believes about Him and glad to share Whom I believe and in the end, I will only be responsible for what I’ve believed and chosen and taught and so will they.

I don’t give a howling hoot any longer about how church must be structured or what name must appear on the sign in front or what you can or can’t do on Sunday inside the building as if it were somehow more sacred than the rest of the world the Lord God made with His own words of creation during six extraordinary days of creative work.

I don’t care a whining whimper these days about programs, series, lessons, lectures, theories, interpretations, deductions, conclusions, traditions, and any kind of religious claptrap that diverts attention from Christ to the church as if the church were of first importance. The church was of first importance to Christ, the Bridegroom who laid down His life for her.

If the church is of first importance to the church … well, good people, that’s just plain narcissism on the part of the bride. That’s the twenty-five cent word. The five cent word is “selfishness.” And it’s a sin.

Time is short. It has been for the better part of two thousand years, and an end of one kind or another comes to all and it awaits you and me.

I don’t want to squander the time pursuing a life as part of a bride that primps at the mirror, ignoring all of the other crucial things involved in preparing for the arrival of the bridegroom and the great wedding feast to come.

I just want to sit down at Christ’s table and dine with Him and with you.

I simply want to sing and pray His praise with our voices blended.

I genuinely want to be immersed with you in His life, doing together with you what He wants us to do.

I emphatically want to be a part of His church, His family with you – all of you – because that’s what He wants.

Now those are the sort of numbers I can get excited about!

Tomorrow I will have to get up, get dressed and go to work at my church, and either pretend that I did not write this and do not believe it, or own up to it with everything that I say and do hereafter – and possibly lose that job as a result. So I need you to pray for me, all three of you who are left reading this fool’s errand of a blog – and be God’s family for me.

When you create a profile on Google, they ask you to write a short bio. Here’s mine:

Short bio: I was born. I learned to walk and talk. I went to school. I learned to sit and shut up. I went to college. I learned to walk and talk with girls. I got married. I got divorced. I learned to walk and talk with God. I married again. We adopted two children. I am We are trying to teach them how to walk and talk with God.

And I don’t even think I used the maximum number of characters.