What Missionaries Fear About House Church and Big Church

Floor mosaic from Byzantine church in Capernaum, built on top of a 1st century house that may have been Simon Peter’s

Last week I wrote on some fundamental struggles inherent in the house church and “big” church models; namely, house churches struggle to organize naturally and big churches struggle to multiply naturally. Today, I want to address two common fears present when Christians or missionaries move from one model to the other, either from house church to big church (i.e. churches that meet in other dedicated facilities), or from big church to house church. My hope is that awareness of these fears and concerns will lead to greater freedom among missionaries or other believers who might need to shift models for good reasons.

For our context in Central Asia, both models of church are truly helpful and needed. We were surprised by this, having assumed that the house church model would be the only one possible and strategic. But we eventually learned that for many in the cities, and especially those with any kind of government salary, they were far more willing to meet in more traditional big church settings than in homes. This has been the majority of the believers we’ve been personally in relationship with during our time on the field. Believers from the villages, however, or those with more conservative relatives, have proved far more willing to meet in security-conscious house church gatherings.

The posture that led to freedom was realizing that we could plant healthy New Testament churches in either model. It was not an either/or. We and our colleagues could faithfully plant a more open big church in the city or plant a semi-open house church in the village, depending on the ministry context God placed us in. These models were helpful with the particular fears of locals regarding persecution. Those more at risk of government persecution were helped to meet in a more “respectable and sanctioned” setting. Those more at risk of family persecution were helped to meet in a more private setting. For any readers concerned that this sounds like pragmatism, I would contend that this is instead simply a way to apply Jesus’ command to be “wise as serpents and innocent as doves” in a context where local believers are like sheep among the wolves (Matt 10:16). Different contexts will bring their own reasons, but I continue to contend that both house church and big church models are helpful and needed just about everywhere.*

What are the fears that missionaries struggle with when switching from a big church to a house church, or from a house church to a big church? Here, I’ve seen two primary concerns emerge in my own heart and in the hearts of others as we’ve had to go back and forth over the years. When moving from a big church to a house church, we fear that house churches are not spiritually safe. And when moving from house church to a big church, aside from concerns about reproducibility, we fear that big churches are not spiritually authentic.

When moving from a big church model to a house church model, many doubt if the house church approach is spiritually safe. Here’s what I mean by that. Believers might doubt that the house church model can adequately protect against heresy. How can adequate pastoral oversight exist in a group which seems so small and informal? Or they might doubt that such intimate gatherings can happen without being hijacked by immature or deviant people who are present. There may also be fears that without the same kinds of institutional structures there is no guarantee of longevity – the house church could simply dissolve and disappear over night. Or, that house churches are particularly prone to domineering-leader rule.

These fears are not illogical, but rather quite natural for someone who has come from a big church background. Such a believer is used to the structures and size culture of a bigger church providing a measure of safety against these possibilities. More pastors and more centralization can indeed mean better protection against false teaching. The way big churches tend to run their services, and even the size of the congregation, makes it harder for an individual to hijack the meeting. Big church formal organization and even buildings are aids to longevity. Bigger congregations can indeed balance pastoral power. But if we are honest, none of these things have protected countless big churches from heresy, hijacking, dissolution, or dictatorial leaders. The benefits of a certain size culture are helpful aids, but they are not the main thing that protects a church from these dangers.

Yes, all of the above dangers can indeed befall a house church – and I’ve seen all four – but that doesn’t mean they are inevitable. If the planters, leaders, and members of a house church are committed to becoming a healthy New Testament church, then they can fend off these dangers just as effectively as any big church can. It starts with the commitment to obey the Scriptures in everything commanded regarding the structures and life of a local church – even in those areas that feel less natural given the small size of the group, like intentional and organized leadership, membership, giving, discipline, etc. From that core conviction, faithful leaders and members then combat heresy, rebuke divisive people, hold their pastors accountable, and continue to gather as a church for the long-term – just like any other church would.

Remember that all of the churches in the New Testament that we know of were house churches. The majority of churches in the first three centuries continued to be house churches. And in many contexts of persecution and mission throughout history (even in the West) have seen periods of faithful house churches and house church networks. There is good precedent for faithfulness in this model, and for the potential for house churches to be spiritually safe. It’s not about the model, it’s about the faith and obedience of the believers within it.

However, the missionary who goes the other direction, who moves from steeping in house church Christianity to attending a big church, will be faced with a very different fear – that big church is not spiritually authentic. I remember wrestling with a lot of cynicism when attending big churches after a year and a half in house church contexts. How was I to know that the worship team (with their smooth, planned transitions) was truly worshipping and not just putting on a show? There seemed to be so much room in a group that size to fake it, to wear masks, and to just go through the motions. How could I know what the other believers were really going through when the group was not ten, but two hundred strong? The majority of the room was just passively receiving, and not actively using their spiritual gifts. These were things that were much less likely given the size culture of the house churches I had been attending.

These fears make a lot of sense when you consider the perspective of someone coming from a house church background. But once again, honesty compels us to say that there are plenty of house churches that also struggle with believers faking it, hiding what’s really going on, and sitting passively instead of using their gifts to build up the body. Their smaller size has not made them immune to these dangers, even though it makes it somewhat easier to combat them. Again, it’s not the model, it’s the faith and obedience of the believers within it.

In a big church where the planters, leaders, and members are committed to being a New Testament church, they will labor to build structures and a culture that promotes spiritual authenticity, transparency, and as many members using their gifts as possible – even when these things feel less natural for a church of their size. This is why so many big churches are committed to having things like small groups, ministries focused on particular demographics within the church, and discipleship classes. They are seeking to create house-church-like structures within the broader body that can account for those things that can’t take place in the large corporate gathering.

We should remember that very early on, Christians, many of whom were raised in the synagogue model, renovated homes into larger dedicated worship spaces. One very early example of this is in Capernaum and may have been the very house where Simon Peter once lived. Certainly, for the past 1,700 years, when believers have had the chance to worship publicly and become a big church, most have chosen to do so. The sheer number of believers in the Jerusalem church and their temple porch gatherings (Acts 5:12-14) show us that larger worship gatherings do not automatically cancel out spiritual authenticity – or at least the apostles didn’t believe so.

God is the God of both small and big churches. There can be a beautiful redeemed simplicity to a healthy, organized house church, just as there can be a beautiful redeemed complexity to a healthy, multiplying big church. Both can be spiritually safe, both can be spiritually authentic. We need to be aware of our own fears and making sure that we are not relying merely on the strengths of certain size cultures, even those strengths are are present and helpful. Instead, we need to rely on the power of God’s word to build his church, whether we meet in a house or in a building with a steeple.

Rather than a posture of skepticism or fear, we need to embrace a posture of humility and service. If you feel the big church service is lacking authenticity, then model it yourself so that others might also enter into it. If you feel the house church is lacking in spiritual safety, then get to work putting the things in place that will better guard the church. Remember, it’s not ultimately about the model, it’s about the faith and obedience of the believers within it.

*Even in the West, consider the advantages the house church model could provide for those less able to benefit from larger services – those struggling with substance abuse, the disabled, those with sensory issues, etc.

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Photo from Wikimedia Commons

House Churches Won’t Organize, Big Churches Won’t Multiply

When it comes to the contentious issue of whether to plant house churches or “big” churches, we’ve long advocated for both. True, our particular corner of Central Asia needs both because of its own issues – half our locals are afraid of family persecution and feel they can’t risk getting caught in a public church service, the other half are afraid of government persecution and feel they can’t risk getting caught in an illegal house meeting. But though these particular issues might be unique to our region, I would advocate that most contexts around the world would be helped to have both kinds of churches operating in a complementary relationship. There are tremendous strengths as well as weaknesses to house churches. The same goes for “big” churches, churches that meet in their own facility or another third space.

To account for these accompanying weaknesses, wise intentionality is needed so that churches can mature and become truly healthy. This intentionality will look a little different for each, due to the particular size cultures of these two main types of churches. In short, house churches will need intentional organizing and big churches will need intentional multiplying. Left to themselves, most house churches will naturally multiply, but will not naturally organize. And most big churches will naturally organize, but not naturally multiply.

Here it may be helpful to refer to a tool we’ve used in our ministry in the past, the 12 characteristics of a healthy church, broken down into three typical stages.

This diagram is simply a visual summary of what the Bible teaches about the local church’s necessary components. It also demonstrates the typical three-stage order in which these components tend to develop – and the two places of common roadblocks. Many house churches do not progress from stage one (Formative church) to stage two (Organized church). Many big churches do not progress from stage two to stage three (Sending church). When you consider what is most natural given their different size cultures, these roadblocks make a lot of sense.

House churches don’t have difficulty feeling the need to multiply. It becomes painfully clear to most present when a house group has grown too large for its space. There’s no more room to sit, the hallways are clogged, there’s no place for members to park their cars, the children are overrunning the meetings, the neighbors are complaining. House churches do have difficulty, however, in organizing. The small size of their group means that those present don’t often feel the need for intentional systems of giving, leadership, covenant membership, and accountability and discipline. The sense is that if these things are necessary, then they can happen organically, by group consensus.

This is why house churches need wise leadership that calls them to organize. By failing to intentionally organize, house churches miss out on the spiritual power that comes from biblical church order as well as leave themselves vulnerable to attack. Each of the characteristics in the organized church stage can sometimes happen organically. But wise organization means they will happen – and in a thought-out biblical way. When the church faithfully applies scripture to its own structure, when it does what the church is meant to do, spiritual power follows.

On the other hand, house churches that don’t organize are leaving themselves vulnerable to strongman, domineering leadership. If the church is not intentional about things like plural leadership, membership, giving, and discipline, the most likely outcome is that one man will fill that vacuum. He will be the sole leader. He will control the money. Membership and discipline will be simply whoever is in his good graces or not.

In addition to these points, organizing well means better relationships with any big churches that are in the area, who are often suspicious of house churches and their aversion to organize in ways that signal trustworthiness. This is very true in Central Asia and the Middle East, but it’s a dynamic present in the West as well.

Big churches, on the other hand, need wise leaders who will call them to multiply. Organizing happens more readily because big churches have met the size threshold where members and leaders naturally sense the need for better systems and structures. One hairy members meeting is all that is required for this revelation to occur. But because of the size culture of big churches, the most natural thing to do is not to multiply, but to simply keep growing. Without the physical stimulus provided by an overly-packed house, big churches will not naturally feel the need and the goodness of multiplying. Instead, as the church grows, the needs grow, and the felt sense that more people are needed to fill important roles.

Even in big churches that do believe the importance of multiplying through church planting, many will not know how to do this. So, intentional efforts will need to be made to teach and model what it looks like to raise up qualified leaders and send them out. When this happens well, the church will know the costly joy of sending away their best. Counterintuitively, this “loss,” this self-giving of multiplying makes a church healthier, as well as more obedient to the great commission. On the other hand, when church multiplication is not done, the church risks growing inward and stagnating.

It’s important to realize that house churches can organize just as faithfully as big churches. Big church advocates tend to doubt this. And big churches can multiply just as faithfully as house churches. House church advocates, in turn, doubt this. The actual organization and multiplication can and should look different, reflecting the different needs and abilities of these different models. But the principles underneath these forms should be the same. The key conviction here is that the local church can be fully expressed in both models. It’s not about the model, it’s about the intentionality of the leadership and members to pursue a biblical ecclesiology.

On the ground, many house churches won’t organize and many big churches won’t multiply. We need to be those able to help them do so, and thereby help them step into the fulness of the Bible’s vision for the local church.

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Eleven Expressions of Gastronomic Humility

“Can you guess the secret ingredient in this white sauce?” my wife asked our kids as we finished eating our dinner of rice pasta.

Different kids guessed various foods that mom had snuck into dishes in the past.

“Nope. Out of guesses? It was cauliflower. Orange cauliflower.”

My daughter, who had been enjoying her pasta, immediately pushed her plate away from her, noodles unfinished. “Blech!”

“Hey, now,” I said, “you were enjoying it until you knew what was in it. Do you see the power your mind can have over your tastebuds? Your tastebuds liked it, but because you’ve decided in your mind that cauliflower is gross, you stopped being able to enjoy it.”

“It’s important that we regularly try new forms of food that we don’t like,” I continued, switching into teachable moment mode. “You might be surprised at how much you can enjoy food in one form even when you don’t like it in another. I really don’t like green peas or celery. But I really enjoy green pea soup (especially with bacon in it) and cream of celery soup.”

“Mom, do you think you could hide food that we don’t like in our dinners once a week? So that we could trick our brains into liking it?” said one of our sons, playing the compliant child and overcompensating for his sister.

My wife shook her head and wisely refused to commit to some kind weekly system for this. My daughter, to her credit, started finishing her pasta.

Keeping up with our kids’ ever-shifting food preferences, on top of their health issues, has been a difficult dynamic of this season. We talk a lot about food at this stage of our family life. This is partially because we have lived cross-culturally and have had the privilege of enjoying foods from many different cultures – an experience that may explain why we have one child who wants to grow up to be a chef.

But we also talk about food a lot because we have a lot of food issues spread across our family, including type-1 diabetes, gluten intolerance, dairy intolerance, stomachs that can’t eat after 7:30 pm without throwing up later in bed, and stomachs that can only handle a very limited amount of oily or rich food without triggering Montezuma’s revenge. Finally, we end up talking about food a lot because we are somewhat of a foodie family. We really like food, sometimes too much so. Hot drinks, sweets, crunchy chips, or fancy restaurant food can all too easily become a place our family retreats to for comfort or refuge.

“I think it comes down to humility,” I said to my wife later that night, as we processed the dinner cauliflower conversation. “Just like we want to enter a discussion open to there being some aspect of truth or wisdom that we might be missing, we also want to partially doubt ourselves when it comes to foods that we think we don’t enjoy. It may be that we try something again and something has changed. Or that there’s a new way to eat it, or some new way to pair it, that transforms a food from gross to delicious. We want to stay open to that. In this way, there can be a kind of posture of humility when it comes to food.”

“Could you call that gastronomic humility?” she asked.

“I guess we could,” I laughed, “Gastrumility? Gastro-humility?”

The more we talked and the more I’ve since thought about it, there really is an important link between humility and a wise posture toward food as Christians. What follows are eleven expressions of this kind of gastronomic humility. I’m sure this list is not exhaustive, but these are principles and practices that have been helpful for our family as we wrestle with faithful living and parenting in this area.

We confess that our food is a good gift provided by God and others. We are not entitled to our food. Rather, it is generously given to us by a kind God who is careful to feed his sparrows as well as children. This kind provision is mediated. Many have labored to grow or raise the food, process it, sell it, and prepare it. This should make us thankful and joyful when it comes time to eat, and those who continue to pause to give thanks before we eat. (Matt 6:11, 6:26, Acts 27:35)
We try new foods and new forms of foods we don’t like. When we make a practice of trying new foods, we admit that our preferences are not final nor fixed, but fickle things that can flex and change with time and experience. There is real wisdom in the saying, “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.” An openness to new foods and new forms of foods correlates to a more joyful life, since the spectrum of God’s good creation that we can enjoy is larger. (Gen 1:31, 1 Cor 10:26)
We eat within the boundaries given to our particular bodies. We acknowledge the health limitations that God has allowed for our particular bodies as a result of the fall. As we find these boundaries (often the hard way), we embrace humility by honoring them, even though we grieve that this is not the way things were supposed to be. In this way, we are good stewards of the imperfect bodies we have been given. We also learn to recognize the areas where we are free to partake and others are not, and instead of grumbling, give thanks for them. (Gen 1:29, 1 Tim 5:23, Phil 2:14-15)
We confess that food is inherently good, even if our own bodies react negatively to it. The fact that my body rejects rich melted cheese does not mean that rich melted cheese is inherently bad or unclean. Rather, God has created every food to be good when it is enjoyed in the proper amounts and ways. I may find that even within these boundaries, the brokenness of my body means I am not free to enjoy it. But this does not then make the food itself bad. I will not let myself call something bad or unclean that God calls good, but seek to accurately name the brokenness in my own body (and sometimes in the ways a good food has been processed destructively). (Gen 1:31, Acts 10:15)
We feast and we fast. Following the commands and examples of the Scriptures, we see that God is honored both by his people sometimes feasting, and sometimes fasting. Both can be holy, both can be beneficial, both should be present in the life of a believer (Matt 6:16, John 2:1-11).
We do not judge those who do not eat certain foods, neither do we unduly admire them. The Bible is clear that some Christians will abstain from certain foods because of their conscience, and that it’s wrong of those who partake to then disdain them. This would also apply to those who abstain from certain foods because of strong opinions about health. We should guard against feeling superior to them. On the other hand, this abstention should not mean that we put them on a pedestal or treat them as if they are living on some higher plane of the Christian life (Rom 14:13-23).
We do not boast or find our identity in the foods we don’t like or can’t eat. Our dietary restrictions and preferences are not meant to be a central part of our identity or our conversation. They do not make us more special nor usually more interesting in conversation. They are the result of the fall and human limitation. While we should feel free to acknowledge and name them, they are cause for sober conversation and even lament, not celebration. If I don’t like green peas or can’t process rich melted cheese, that means I am missing out on good things that others are able to enjoy. The way I speak of these things should reflect this and the fact that food and drink is not central to the kingdom of God. (Rom 14:17)
We are careful with foods that tempt us toward gluttony or addiction. We should notice which foods tempt us to push past the boundaries of wise and healthy consumption, and which foods we want to turn to when we are sad, tired, or anxious. We will need to exercise caution with how we eat these foods and may need to consider abstaining entirely or for a season. (Prov 23:20, 1 Cor 6:12, Phil 3:19)
We use food as a way to love others. God has created food as a central part of human relationships. Jesus models this for us in how he intentionally ate food with sinners and tax collectors. Giving and receiving hospitality is an important way to love others and an important picture of the peace we have with God. Food is good in and of itself, but it’s also to be used to win the lost, help the needy, and bless the saints. (Mark 2:16, 1 Pet 4:9, 1 Cor 9:22)
We strive to glorify God and serve others by enjoying as great a variety of his foods as possible. God made a world full of countless combinations of foods, flavors, and spices. These are put here for our joy and for his glory. There’s also a huge variety of how different human individuals and cultures partake of these vast riches. With an intentional, flexible, omnivorous posture, we put ourselves in a better position to enjoy diverse foods with others and to give God glory for each and every flavor we encounter. (1 Cor 10:26, 1 Cor 9:22)
We look forward to the perfected foods and stomachs of the resurrection. Foods and stomachs are flawed in this age – good, yet broken in many ways. We use this knowledge to actively anticipate the world to come, where we will be given resurrected taste buds and stomachs and will be able to enjoy the full range of God’s good food and drink. In this way, each of our limitations now can be a means of strengthening our longing in the coming resurrection, where we will feast will Jesus. (1 Cor 15:35-53, Is 25:6-8)

Consider these eleven expressions of gastro-humility. Are there others that need to be added to this list? A proper posture toward food is such a difficult thing to find. And judging by the amount of New Testament passages dealing with food, it was difficult for the New Testament believers also. Thankfully, into this tricky discussion the Scriptures give us a ballast, a solid and clear compass we can come back to over and over again, even when we disagree with other believers about what to about food:

“So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” (1 Cor 10:31)

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A Proverb on Bygones

Don’t go after yesterday’s hat.
Local Oral Tradition

This local proverb is roughly the equivalent of “Let bygones be bygones” and perhaps “Don’t beat a dead horse.” Its main point is that it’s foolish to bring up problems from the past that have already been addressed. To do so is a great way to stir up trouble unnecessarily.

Why does the proverb use the imagery of going after a hat? On this front, I’m not completely sure. It may be referring to the impossibility of wearing the traditional headgear the exact same way as yesterday, since this involves a skull cap with a scarf wrapped into a turban around it. Or it may simply mean that if you lost your hat, it’s not worth investing much to find it. Just move on and get another one. I can say that wearing hats was until recently very important in local culture when it came to honor and respectability. And not just locally. When you look at photos from the first half of the 20th century, even in the West, almost everyone is wearing hats.

The disappearance of hats or turbans as an expected part of respectable daily clothing is something I’ve never heard discussed. But something clearly happened. For hundreds and hundreds of years almost everyone wears them everyday. Then somewhere in the mid 20th century, they stop. Maybe the increasing availability of indoor plumbing meant that hair was able to be made presentable much more easily, and therefore hats were no longer as necessary? In this theory, styled hair is the new hat. Or, perhaps the disappearance of hats is a reflection of the global workforce and even domestic life moving more and more indoors and out of the sun. It’s one of the great unsolved mysteries of history, and something that a time traveler from a hundred years ago would find most peculiar about our present time.

Anyway, back to the meaning of the proverb. Bringing up problems from the past that have already been covered or resolved is a kind of destruction. Solomon agrees, “Whoever covers an offense seeks love, but he who repeats a matter separates close friends” (Prov 17:9). This is the kind of foolishness or malice that is powerful enough to ruin even close friendships.

There is a great deal of wisdom required in knowing when to cover an offense, and when it’s necessary to explicitly address the sin and pursue clear apologies and forgiveness. But either way, after we have decided to cover it in love or have had the reconciliation conversation, then wisdom would have us to truly release it – and no longer go after yesterday’s hat.

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Photo by Wikimedia Commons.

Don’t Rule Out a Burning in the Bosom

My wife and I had the honor of serving at the recent Cross conference in Louisville, KY. As members of the Great Commission Council, we were there to interact with students who had questions about missions and to attempt to provide them with wise and experienced counsel. Overall, we loved the conference. Over three days, 11,000 students and leaders sat under preaching, breakouts, and panels that focused on local church-centered missions. If there are students in your church or ministry interested in missions, I’d highly recommend they attend Crosscon ’25. Sadly, many that we trust in missions circles have serious concerns about theological drift at Urbana, but Cross aims to be a student missions conference that loves missions, loves sound theology, and loves the local church.

One of the days featured a panel on Decisions and Calling. As with much of the content, this panel session was rich in wisdom and practical, biblical guidance for young people wrestling with whether or not God might be calling them to the mission field. The framework presented focused on discerning the will of God through pursuing what is clearly revealed in scripture for a holy life, recognizing what our personal opportunities are, and submitting to what our church thinks we should do. Sound counsel for an age of radical and subjective individualism.

As my wife and I debriefed afterward, there were only two things that we would would have added to this important discussion (These are things I believe the panelists would agree to as well, but you can only say so much in a given session). The first would have been mentioning that skill is also an important part of discerning if someone should be heading toward the mission field or not. While character is the foundation, and knowledge is essential, there are some abilities that really need to be present for a good potential missionary.

Not least among these is what has sometimes been called cultural intelligence. Practically, this is the ability to make deep friendships across cultural and linguistic lines. If someone wants to reach the nations for Jesus but all of their friends here in the West look just like them, something doesn’t quite line up. Since most in the West now live in areas with some level of access to cultural and linguistic diversity, it’s not unreasonable for churches to look for these kinds of friendships as one marker of whether or not God is calling someone into missions.

There are other skills as well, but here I’ll just mention that the vast majority of missionaries also need to be able to teach. This might seem blatantly obvious, but a surprising number of missionaries end up on the field with very little actual teaching experience in their local church. Please, make sure that your missionary can do a decent job teaching and/or preaching in his own language and culture before you send him to teach or preach in a foreign one. If you are sending missionaries as church planters, then evidence of this skill is absolutely essential (1 Tim 3:2). Don’t neglect to train women missionaries in this skill also since so many of the unreached peoples around the world are also highly gender-segregated.

In addition to this, I felt that the Decisions and Calling panel should have left more room for the supernatural work of the Holy Spirit in giving holy ambitions on an individual level. The panel pushed back against what was too much of an emphasis on a “burning in the bosom” in generations past. But I think we should be careful that we don’t rule out a kind of specific passion personally received which compels someone to reach the nations for Christ. It is not the only way to have a “real” missionary calling. But biblical example and church history show that this kind of individual calling really happens sometimes.

Paul had a holy ambition to preach the gospel where Christ had not been named (Rom 15:20). Timothy had a gift (perhaps connected to evangelism) uniquely imparted to him by the laying on the hands, which he was to fan into flame (2 Tim 1:6-8, 4:5). St. Patrick experienced dreams that convinced him he was to return to Ireland as a missionary. Hudson Taylor and Adoniram Judson also experienced personal calls to missions soon after coming to faith.

Yes, there are some like Nik Ripken, author of The Insanity of God, who simply read the great commission and decide that they are supposed to be a missionary. That’s one side of the spectrum. Then there are people like me. As a freshman in college, I was hypothetically open to missions, but definitely not open to working among Muslims. Then I found myself sitting in a Baptist church presentation where a missionary played a video of a night baptism in the Middle East. As I watched, my heart burned and I heard these words clearly spoken to my soul, “Go to the [people group name], go to the Muslims.” And there are countless experiences in between.

Just like we see in the Scriptures, God rarely calls anyone into ministry in the same way. The burning bush wasn’t repeated for anyone else. Neither was the Damascus road experience. Jesus’ calling of Peter and Andrew was very different from Nathaniel’s. Sometimes people go into missions in a style more akin to the authorship of the book of Luke. They do a lot of careful research and build a very good case that they are called to be a missionary. Other times it’s more like the Apocalypse (Revelation) of John. No research there, but instead rapt attention paid to some very unexpected things that have been seen and heard. Will we really say that one is more spiritual or valid than the other? And what would be our biblical grounds for doing so?

The very understandable position in reformed circles is to dial down the talk of missionary callings and burnings in the bosom. But we need to be careful lest we rule out valid ways in which the living Spirit works, lest we get pulled into an experience of following God that is only cognitive and not also open to the way the Spirit mysteriously leads through our affections. We also must be careful of a posture where we hypothetically believe that God can clearly communicate specific callings to his people, but where we assume that will never actually happen in our circles. We must know our own tribe and place in history and these particular ditches we tend to fall into.

A personal calling to the mission field must always be submitted to the wise counsel of local church leadership and put through the filters of character, knowledge, skill, and opportunity. But along with that, we need to have a category for a spectrum of calling experiences. Like our personal testimonies, some will seem more natural, others will seem more dramatic. Both are supernatural.

Why did I experience a calling to the mission field that was more like a burning in the bosom? Who knows? Maybe it was because of weakness, and the Lord knowing that I in particular would need that crystal clarity when things got hard. Perhaps others are steadier than I am and so their holy ambition was clarified through simple circumstances or logic. It’s hard to say.

I love wisdom, the pursuit of it, and I love frameworks built upon it. I love missions that is infused with sound theology and rooted in healthy church emphases. But I do not want to rely so heavily on these things that I discount the possibility of the clear, personal, affective guidance of the Holy Spirit in the life of a believer. To do so would be to deny things I have seen and heard, yes, but more importantly, things that are in church history and in the word itself.

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A Proverb on Not Arguing with Your Spouse

Arguing with your wife is like spitting straight up into the air.
Regional Oral Tradition

This is a new proverb I’ve just learned, used among a sister people group. What’s true of making connections to remember new vocabulary is also true of learning proverbs – the more absurd, the easier to remember. This proverb uses a thoughtless and self-defeating action – spitting directly up into the air – to highlight the foolishness of much arguing within marriage.

When you spit straight up, it’s going to come back down, right onto your face. Likewise, when you dig in and keep pushing and prodding in order to win that argument with your spouse, you might be technically “winning.” But because of the nature of marriage, the relational oneness you share with your spouse, you are in fact doing harm, both to them and also to yourself. We have an English saying similar to this one, “like spitting into the wind,” that also communicates the futility and stupidity of a given action – although I’ve never heard it applied to marital conflict.

The Scriptures also present the importance of pursuing peace in the marriage relationship. “A continual dripping on a rainy day and a quarrelsome wife are alike” (Prov 27:15). “Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way…” (1 Pet 3:7). And, “He who loves his wife loves himself” (Eph 5:28). What does this practically look like? “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19).

So, heed the wisdom of generations of Central Asian nomads past, and more importantly, the wisdom of God’s word. Don’t spit directly up into the air, and don’t argue with your spouse. Your spouse (and your face) will thank you.

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A Proverb on Walking a Fine Line

May the skewer not be burned, neither the kebab.
Local Oral Tradition

For the past six months I haven’t been able to blog as much. I’ve been committed full-time to some online education projects for our Central Asian people group, a season which is now coming to an end as we prepare to go back overseas. At some point I’ll write a post reflecting on this very unexpected online tentmaker-type experience that I dove into while we’ve been in the US on this long medical leave. But not now. For now, I just want to get back to writing more often. And what better way to do so than with a new Central Asian proverb? And a proverb about something delicious, no less – kebab!

But first, there is a lost-in-translation issue that needs to be cleared up. When most of the world speaks of kebab, they are speaking of ground beef or lamb hand-pressed around a long, flat metal blade of sorts, which is called a shish. The long rectangular raw meat, pressed around the blade-skewer is then placed on top of coals and roasted. This is a shish of kebab, which has come into English as shish kebab. But wait, isn’t a shish kebab chunks of meat and vegetable skewered on a long metal or wooden thing and grilled? Well, kind of. That’s still a shish because it contains a skewer, but the actual word for the chunks of meat would be another word, tikka in our region. So what we call shish kebab is actually a shish tikka (with chunks of chicken, beef, lamb, liver, fat, male animal reproductive organs, etc.)

Why is this important? Well, because when most English speakers visualize a kebab, they are visualizing something that is related, but is not actually a kebab as its original cultures would know it. Please see the above picture for what a kebab is in the regions from where it originates. And now compare that to what North Americans call a shish kebab, below.

Now, since I’m a not at all a language purist, I point this out in order to clear up any confusion, not to tut-tut about how we’ve ruined the word shish kebab or anything like that. No, the word shish kebab has come into English, has taken on a life of its own, and has been a happy part of family barbecues for decades now. May it be blessed.

And in case you were wondering, this kind of word borrowing and mutation happens all the time, in both directions. The English word blouse has been co-opted by our Central Asian language and now is used (in the form blus) for what Americans call a sweater and Brits call a jumper. This is simply the nature of words. It can get confusing, but at least it keeps us on our toes.

Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s get back to the actual proverb, “May the skewer not be burned, nor the kebab.” This proverb is equivalent to our English sayings, “To walk a tightrope” or “To walk a fine line.” Essentially, this proverb is used when there are two important things that need to be balanced or held in tension in a given situation. As I said above, Central Asian kebabs are cooked on a long metal blade-like skewer. This is important because the metal heating up helps to cook the kebab on the inside, while the outside is being cooked by the coals. So, being the good Central Asian chef that you are, you don’t want the outside to burn while the inside is still raw, and vice-versa. You need them to be cooking at the same rate, so you attempt to position your shish of kebab so that it’s just right.

There is wisdom is this proverb, the kind that recognizes that much of what is good and true must be held in balance and tension in order to not be distorted and become bad. Parents should listen to their children so that they feel heard and loved. But parents must not give their children authority such that they end up deciding things for the family. Christians should emphasize the sovereignty of God in all things, yet they must not stop sharing the gospel because of this truth. Solomon’s proverbs are full of the tensions inherent in the pursuit of wisdom. As we recently shared with our kids regarding restaurant food on vacation, “If you have found honey, eat only enough for you, lest you have your fill of it and vomit it” (Prov 25:16). We still had at least two nights of offspring vomiting up restaurant food late at night.

It’s been a very strange 14 months waiting for clarity and wisdom about the future, trying to make decisions that left the door open to both staying the US and returning overseas. I don’t know that I always got it right. There were some investments of time and treasure that may have resulted in some burned kebab.

However, I trust that the coming resurrection will account for all investments made out of a desire to be faithful, even the ones that prove to be a bit misguided when the fog clears. It’s good to be here, feeling like the path before us is somewhat visible again. And by the grace of God, that path will involve some good kebab again, and not just the proverbial kind.

To support our family as we head back to the field, click here.

For my list of recommended books and travel gear, click here.

Photos are from Unsplash.com

Cultural Contamination and Personal Humility

Pride is such a slippery sin, one that often masquerades as wisdom, sound strategy, or simply holding to the “correct” position. For so much of the contemporary missions world, the right position, the strategic thing, is to avoid transmitting our own culture to those we are leading at all costs – even if that means not leading, not preaching, and not modeling crucial aspects of the Christian life for indigenous believers. This kind of posture often feels like humility, but its assumptions about local believers prove to be anything but humble.

For example, missionaries who long to see exponential growth and even movements among their focus people group will often refuse to preach sermons directly to locals. They believe that this is a Western Christian form that will be foreign to the locals and bad for church multiplication. Many will persist in this posture even when local believers repeatedly request that they preach to them and even when the local culture is one steeped in Islam, where a mullah or imam (checks notes) preaches a sermon in the local mosque every Friday. No, the missionary persists in what he maintains is the humble thing to do, refusing all opportunities to preach the Bible to local believers. He might tell himself that by doing this, he is humbly refusing to build his own kingdom, and he is saving the indigenous church from the pollution of Western forms. In reality, he is pridefully elevating his own opinion or training over the good desires of local believers and the clear commands of scripture.

In previous posts, we’ve noted how the Bible’s emphases and cross-cultural common sense help to guard the missionary from this powerful fear of cultural contamination, from the specter of their culture being passed on to their disciples and thereby wrecking indigeneity. This current post adds personal humility to the list of guardrails that keep us from being frozen or misled by inflated fears of cultural transmission.

The first point of personal humility that missionaries must embrace is that local believers are not inferior to us (Col 11:3). Everyone is equal at the foot of the cross, both in our sinfulness as well as in our new nature as believers (1 Pet 2:9). Local believers are our equals in Christ, even as we seek to mentor them in the faith. This spiritual equality means that local believers are indeed increasingly able to sift their own culture and borrow from other cultures as a means of reforming their own. Should they be trained in discernment so that they don’t believe that everything Western is also Christian? Absolutely. We don’t need a hands-off posture that gives local believers no guidance at all. But neither do we need a posture that desperately tries to shut the door to any possible cultural transmission. As we have previously noted, this is not a real-world option.

I remember the first time I realized that “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus” had been translated into our Central Asian language and was a regular part of house church services. I was so disappointed. My personal feelings about this song were connected with Bible camp altar calls that felt manipulative, with a fundamentalist Christianity that was decisionistic and fixated on secondary issues. Yet here it was, being sung from the heart by persecuted local believers.

My bubble of indignation burst when a fellow missionary who had grown up in India told me that the song wasn’t actually American, but originally from a first-generation Christian of tribal north India. This information served as a very helpful rebuke. As it turns out, my culture had also borrowed this song from another, and the Lord had used it in the testimony of countless thousands. Even though I felt that the song’s value was largely gone for my generation, I knew enough about its history to know that it had been used mightily in American generations past. Yet here I was, upset that some unthinking missionary had translated this song into the local language. Even if that had been the case, who was I to say that the local believers shouldn’t even be exposed to a Christian song that had been mightily used of the Spirit elsewhere? Did I really believe them to be my equal when it came to discerning what would and would not edify the church? Proper biblical humility moves us away from this kind of “cultural appraisal for me, not for thee” posture.

Second, embracing humility can remind us that culture is often a deeply entrenched, stubborn thing and that we should not over-inflate our own ability to change it. The locals in Papua New Guinea may now wear T-shirts, jeans, and flip-flops, but they still take their children to the witch doctor if they fall seriously ill. The culture has only been Westernized at a surface level, but not where it counts. Similarly, Western missionaries might lament that Central Asian Christians now sit in chairs instead of on the floor in their services. However, they should be lamenting that local believers still believe that a lone, strongman pastor is the only kind of leadership that is “real.” Proper humility recognizes that it takes the work of God to change these deeper core levels of culture; thus, it’s not something we have the power to do accidentally. Remember, Jesus says that we do not have the power to even make one hair of our heads black or white (Matt 5:36).

Local believers are our equals in Christ, who become increasingly wise to appraise aspects of foreign Christian cultures as they grow in their faith. It is not our job to work so hard to shelter them from our Western culture that we refuse to do direct, lead-by-example ministry. Furthermore, we are, apart from the Spirit, impotent to change the deeper layers of culture. We need to stop assuming that we are so influential and so popular that we might turn everyone into Westerners without ever meaning to.

Rather than postures that reflect hidden pride, we need to embrace a biblical humility, one that focuses primarily on doing the Lord’s work. A posture of true humility will, in the end, be the most effective for preventing the wrong kind of cultural transmission, and bringing about healthy indigenous churches.

This post is part of a series. Total series posts are:

1) Cultural Contamination and Scripture’s Emphases

2) Cultural Contamination and Missionary Common Sense

3) Cultural Contamination and Personal Humility

4) Cultural Contamination and the Sovereignty of God

This post was originally published on Immanuelnetwork.org

Photo by Eila Lifflander on Unsplash

Cultural Contamination and Missionary Common Sense

Want to know one of the deepest fears of contemporary missionaries? Being labeled a colonialist. Missions books and pre-field trainings are full of examples of how previous generations of missionaries got it wrong, exported their culture along with the gospel, and thereby hamstrung the growth or even existence of the indigenous church. The average well-educated Westerner will go to great lengths to avoid the shame of being labeled a racist or a –phobe of any sort. The average Western missionary will go just as far – perhaps even further – to make sure the dreaded colonialist label never sticks.

This deeply-imbedded cultural fear often works its way out in a missiology of reaction. What ends up crystal-clear for the average missionary going to the field is what he should not be like – those old-school colonial missionary types. So, when missions methods are proposed that keep the missionary always in the background, never leading from the front, the missionary becomes an easy convert. In these methodologies (also chock full of promises of exponential success), the missionary has found a compelling philosophy that keeps him from leading groups in Bible study, from preaching, from baptizing locals, and even from calling out the darkness of local culture when necessary. In his zeal to not be a colonialist missionary, the gospel worker focuses overtime on preventing any of his culture from being transmitted through his ministry.

In a previous post, we’ve seen how the Bible’s strong emphases on direct gospel ministry and protection against false gospels provide a helpful response to this kind of missions thinking. How might the experience of seasoned cross-cultural missionaries also inform this fear of being a cultural colonialist, a cultural contaminator?

Thankfully, cross-cultural wisdom and common sense also bring some needed correction to the missionary mortified at the thought of passing on some of his culture to his local friends. To start with, those with long-standing cross-cultural relationships will tell you that cultural transmission is, in fact, inevitable.

When we love someone, we are shaped by them.

Spouses’ personalities and body language become more like one another as they age. Likewise, friends from different cultures slowly absorb traits from one another’s lives. This is simply how human relationships work. When cross-cultural relationships exist, culture will be transmitted whether we want it to or not. This is because group as well as personal cultures are porous and dynamic, constantly flowing back and forth and naturally interacting with the other cultures around them. Naivete says we can stop cultural transmission entirely. Wisdom and experience say it will happen, so let’s seek to notice it and be intentional about it.

Similarly, culture can never be transmitted without being changed in some way, localized as it were. No one can emulate another in one hundred percent the same way. No, even the sincerest emulation still gets colored by the unique traits and personality of the individual or group that has been influenced. Once again, experience shows us that cultures never receive anything without putting their own spin on it. Yes, the Melanesian church of my adolescent years sang “Rock of Ages” in English in their services. But the timing, the pitch, and the fact that every single verse of the song was sung was most definitely not Western, but more akin in style to the tribal dirges of their ancestors. When this kind of exchange occurs, does it represent a coercive act of culture invasion or a consensual act of culture adoption? Must we insist that the former category is the only possibility? Or can we admit that indigenous cultures – not just our own – possess enough agency to adopt and transform foreign forms willingly?

One more point of cross-cultural common sense is that cultural transmission can be either good or bad. This much should be plain to the Christian, even if it’s not to the secular academy. Strangely, even among Christians, it is assumed to be bad when a Western missionary’s culture influences local believers. But why is this the default assumption when an unreached culture is influenced by a missionary who is 1) steeped in and shaped by God’s word, and 2) who comes from a culture that has had widespread exposure to God’s word for hundreds of years? In most cases, the cultures of the unreached have either been cut off from God’s word for hundreds or thousands of years or have never had access at all. This isolation from God’s truth always means the presence of areas of horrendous darkness in these cultures – strongholds of evil such as female circumcision, cannibalism, honor killings, or witchcraft. Regarding areas such as these, Western missionaries should be actively trying to change the culture. Yes, some cultural transmission can be good, even godly.

For a global missions culture dominated by the fear of being called colonialist, cross-cultural common sense and wisdom bring a welcome correction. Cultural transmission is inevitable inhuman relationships, and therefore calls for intentionality. Culture transmitted is always localized in some way. And some forms of cultural transmission are necessary in order to combat the works of the enemy. When considered alongside the Bible’s ministry emphases, personal humility, and a deep trust in the sovereignty of God, this common sense wisdom can help free the missionary from a fear-based missiology – and lead to one built on a better foundation.

This post is part of a series. Total series posts are:

1) Cultural Contamination and Scripture’s Emphases

2) Cultural Contamination and Missionary Common Sense

3) Cultural Contamination and Personal Humility

4) Cultural Contamination and the Sovereignty of God

Photo by DLKR on Unsplash

This post was first published on the Immanuel Network blog.

The Transformation of JJ the Bully

This Sunday our pastor preached on loving our enemies, from Matthew chapter 5. As he challenged us to consider if our lives will contain any stories of radical love for our enemies, I remembered observing just such a story in my elementary school days. It’s a story of how my mom modeled returning good for evil – and thereby helped her younger sons to experience the power of actually following Jesus in this regard.

My second grade year was the roughest so far since we had returned to the US in the middle of my pre-K year, when my dad had died on the field. We had moved to a different town in the Philadelphia area, and that meant a new public elementary school. Overall, I didn’t have it as bad as my older brothers. My classroom experience was merely downgraded from wonderful to okay. Though I do remember the frustration of having to leave class movie time every Thursday in order to attend a speech therapy class. Those American R’s are tricky. But I had good friends in my class and a decent, if somewhat reserved, teacher. No, it was the bus ride where things were downright bad.

My fourth-grade brother and I managed to become the target of a crew of fifth grade bullies, led by a ringleader named JJ. Sometimes this had to do with our insistence on trying to sit in the back row of the bus, even though these boys claimed this as their exclusive territory. I remember being wrestled out of the back row, flipped over seat backs, and thrown up against metal window frames. We were much smaller than these older boys, so I’m not sure what caused us to keep on trying to assert our rights to the back seats. Perhaps it was the principle of it. Or perhaps there was something we had absorbed from the Melanesian highlands where we had grown up, where the locals were always ready for a fight.

Other fights involved teasing over the conspicuous size of our family’s ears and how the morning sunlight would shine through them, creating quite the pinkish-orange glow on the sides of our heads. Or the cross necklaces that we wore, one of which JJ tore off during a fight. While it was mostly angry boyish wrestling, there were some times that punches were thrown, though I think this was mostly directed at my older brother. I have a distinct memory of him getting punched in the stomach.

These conflicts on the school bus, as well as the difficulty my older brothers were having in their other school relationships, began to bleed into our relationships at home. My brothers and I began to fight with one another more often, a development which concerned my mom. With the exception of occasional squabbles, we three boys had always been pretty close to one another and related not only as brothers, but also as good friends. These growing conflicts would ultimately cause my mom to pull us out of public school in order to homeschool us for a year and a half. But first she had a bully to transform.

My mom has always been a woman not just of word, but of deed. She not only moved with her young family to the mission field, but later moved back to the field as a single mom. In the US as well as in Melanesia, she was not only personally involved in ministering to others, but active in trying to find ways for her boys to do so also. This often went well, though I do remember one time when after a snowstorm our family tried to serve a neighbor by brushing the snow off his car. We very quickly found out that in America, you don’t touch other people’s cars.

All the fights with JJ must have had my mom’s sanctified imagination chewing on what could be done. One day she told us that we were going to 7-Eleven, an American convenience store common in the northeast (common, but in Philly not as beloved as Wawa, where you can get a hoagie and Yoohoo to enjoy with your Poppop). When we arrived at 7-Eleven, she asked my brother and I to pick out a slurpee for JJ. A slurpee is a blended ice drink also known as a slushie, icee, etc., a kind of gas station drink full of sugar that sends kids into acrobat mode and bright food dye that stains their tongues. We chose a large blueberry slurpee and our mom drove us to JJ’s house.

The next scene I remember we are standing at JJ’s door. JJ’s mom, a pleasant enough-seeming woman, had answered the door. JJ was standing beside and a little behind her, looking not a little shocked and seeming very small. My mom explained that we had wanted to bring something for JJ, and she handed him the slurpee. JJ’s eyes were wide, but he seemed genuinely thankful. And since this was the 1990’s, his mom didn’t seem weird about it either, but let her kid keep the drink, and made him verbalize his thanks. I’m sure my mom and JJ’s mom said lots of other grownup things, but that’s all faded from my memory.

What hasn’t faded is the transformation that was visible on JJ’s the bully’s face and in his demeanor. He had been downright cruel to us for months, a classic bully, but this act of unexpected, undeserved kindness seemed to deeply disturb him in the right kinds of ways. He was never the same after that. JJ the bully actually became kind to us, consistently, from that point on. That was one powerful blueberry slurpee.

The last memory I have of JJ must have been toward the very end of that school year, because the weather was warm and it felt like summer. He had invited us over to his neighborhood to join in a big game of capture the flag.

Years and years later I would find myself in an intense text fight with one of my Central Asian friends. The abusive texts kept coming long after I had, exasperated, stopped responding. Then I remembered JJ, and the power of a blueberry slurpee, the power of loving your enemies, and turning the other cheek when struck. My young wife and I grabbed some cupcakes from somewhere and we headed off to Walmart, unannounced, where my friend worked. The mean texts kept coming in as we drove. But when we found him at the back of the store, smiled, and handed him the cupcakes, a look came over him that I recognized. The hardness melted away, replaced by a kind of sheepish kindness, as if something powerful had suddenly been heaped upon his head. Just like JJ, actually obeying Jesus by doing something kind to someone cruel had made all the difference – had even proved transformative.

I had learned how to do this from my mom, who of course, had learned how to do this from Jesus.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles” (Matthew 5:38–41).

Addendum: After writing this post I found out from my mom that I had unintentionally changed or omitted a few important details from this story. I have written about these corrections here.

Photo by Thomas Park on Unsplash

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