Dear Grateful Givers:
The other day I was cleaning out some files and found a folder with an exchange of emails I had initiated with the pastor of a “second-tier” megachurch. (I’m not sure if that’s the right term, but I think a total of about 5,000 people attended their multiple Sunday morning worship services.) I was reminded of the pastor’s promptness and attentiveness to my concerns, but the exchange, in the end, was unsatisfying. I felt we were having two different conversations about the same worship experience.
Looking back on his words and mine, I think our difference was not theological, but ecclesiological. That is, we did not differ on what we say about God, but over what we say about the Church.
A little background: The Sunday I attended, the congregation was celebrating the conclusion of a massive mission fundraising event for a hospital/mission in West Africa. The numbers were astounding, as they successfully raised over 1/3 of a million dollars. (I am sometimes taken aback by the economy of scale—at the time that amount of money would have covered two years’ operating budget for the three congregations I was serving, but I digress into a breach of the 10th commandment. Actually, breaking the 10th commandment isn’t a digression—it was the ultimate conclusion of the worship event.)
The faithful of the congregation were challenged to do even more for missions, because it would enhance their eternal blessing. Financial generosity was sold as an investment in the quality of eternal life—in effect, cosmic long-term care insurance, thus transforming selfless giving in this life into the accomplishment of the most selfish afterlife. This is, of course, difficult to empirically disprove, but I found it to be a creative twist on prosperity-gospel preaching.
What distracted me in the “worship experience” (an odd term because, if worship is God-focused, why the self-referential focus on “experience”?) was the collective celebration of individual generosity which would bring private benefit. Little was said about the actual need(s) being met for the West African recipients; they were, I guess, collaterally blessed. Most of the energy was on the “blessing” promised to the givers, not the hope proclaimed to the downtrodden. The core purpose of generosity wasn’t “Good News to the poor,” but great anticipation for the generous rich. In the end, pep-rally marketing (the whole event felt like a segment of The Price is Right, including big turning placards to reveal the final number) drove me to feel a certain covetousness towards those who were going to out-class me in heaven. Fortunately, there’s time I can still make a bunch of money, so I won’t have to live on the shabby side of glory.
Again, I had to check the “sour grapes” in my own heart—was I upset because they were wrong, or because they were successful?
In the end, I had to confess my preference for understanding how I see mission, and how I see ministry. The congregations I have served, including FPCLG, are modest in size and would certainly not reject the opportunity for numeric growth; but our care for one another and for our community is not motivated by OUR hope for blessing, but by others' need to be blessed.
As Jesus said in the Gospel of Matthew, the passage read at our Ash Wednesday service, “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. So, when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.” Matthew 6.1-2
As I understand Matthew 6.1-2, generosity that is performed to benefit the donor is, in the end, selfishness. The generous who perceive not only the need but also the dignity, character and giftedness of others, have no interest in being celebrated.
Thinking back on the megachurch worship experience, I can’t help but wonder about the members of that congregation whom I knew. One was upside-down in her mortgage and was working as a temp for near minimum wage, and her husband’s company had just closed. Another was the father of a special needs daughter whose prosthetics were so expensive they had to borrow money from their in-laws, who had to postpone retirement to assist with the surgical co-pays. There was also the guy who just recently started attending AA meetings because he had lost his job for intoxication. Given the sermon I heard, I couldn’t help feeling bad for them. They were told their eternity was going to be the equivalent of a cardboard box under a heavenly overpass. On the other hand, I’ll bet they’ll have a great time with the West Africans who will be there with them.
Thinking heaven won’t have upscale neighborhoods, I remain,
With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor
Dear Non-Conference Non-Attendees:
As you may know, a great deal of effort was put into planning and promoting a post-COVID conference scheduled for the second Saturday in March. Pre-registrations were underwhelming, so the week before the event I decided to cancel it. It’s bad form to have more breakout groups than attendees. I’m grateful for the presenters and preparers who were unable to showcase their no-doubt brilliant work; but discussing the impact of the pandemic four years out was clearly uninteresting to a wider public.
Upon reflection, I realize I shouldn’t be surprised. I conceived of an event designed to address the unprocessed grief we carry regarding what was lost during those dark months of soaring death rates and social isolation. I recognize now that a conference organized to address denial is doomed by its own irony.
Perhaps because I spent so much time thinking about the pandemic’s impact on our social psyche,