Obviously, the title of this article is a spoof reflecting on the dire consequences facing professional clergy; however, the current religious industry seems to be completely oblivious, as it churns out newly-minted “masters of divinity” left and right. Many ordained clergy will confess that they have no marketable skills outside their church vocations, having invested four years pursuing an undergraduate degree, three years getting their MDiv, and another two to six years completing either a Doctor of Ministry or a PhD. Others entered their ministerial career later in life, after significant experience in business or industry.

I’m wondering if anyone has really thought about the serious plight of these fellow believers, who simply got caught up in the IC system like so many others with sincere hearts, the purest of motives, and a desire to serve the Lord with their entire being. All my life the message was clear: “full-time ministry” or “full-time missionary service” was the very pinnacle of commitment to the Lord Jesus Christ and His church.

With the deconstruction or collapse of this gigantic religious industry, how will these families be cared for and ministered to? Will they be honored? Or will they be held in contempt like the Wall Street bankers who lined their pockets and then asked for the government to bail them out?

I have been significantly involved in the house church model over the years, including the deliberate planting of one rural house church and the transition of one brick-and-mortar congregation to weekly home-based meetings (we disposed of the building completely). There are wonderful examples of house churches around the world that are loving fellowships with open, participatory meetings that encourage every-believer ministry to flow naturally when they gather together. So I’m not going to rail against these dear brothers and sisters who believe they have rediscovered the New Testament model of church life, because many of them have recaptured missing elements of community that have long since been buried under layers of religious ritual.

The early days of house church are usually amazing for most participants: the sense of community, the intimacy of fellowship, the transparency of sharing with one another, the hunger to grow as followers of Jesus, and the fresh expression of worship. It’s the “rose-colored glasses” effect that accompanies any new venture. People are eager to sacrifice the time it takes to clean their home twice each weekend (once before the meeting and again after everyone leaves), do the practical set-up routine every Sunday (extra chairs, song books, PowerPoint or overhead, Lord’s Supper, meal preparation, and a dozen other things), and make every effort to engage with everyone who attends the meetings. Burn-out and disillusionment will inevitably set in, no matter how spiritual and committed the core group is during those early days.

There’s something within us, at least in the American culture, that wants to package every good and wholesome experience, turning it into a program or a best-selling book or the latest seminar. And that’s what ruins house church for me. As great as it can be, the frequency and the expectation of meeting every single week in someone’s living room (or any other venue) drains the spontaneity and life right out of it. So I’m not saying it’s necessarily wrong to meet with other believers in this way, but that it can quickly become just as institutional (or boring or ritualistic) as the mega-church on Prosperity Boulevard.

Those who have embraced the truth of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection by faith already are members of His body, the Church of the Living God. We don’t have to meet anywhere with the same group of people according to a strict weekly timetable in order to be the body of Christ. Should we gather together as brothers and sisters? Sure! Does it have to be weekly? No, we just need to be careful about going it alone. We need each other, but I need fellowship with others on a daily basis, something we might remember reading about in Acts 2:46. The early church got together every day in the temple courts, a large public gathering spot for Jewish people in those days, where people would socialize for hours on end. Sort of the First Century equivalent of Starbucks or a popular shopping mall or a public park.

I know there may be questions about discipleship, worship, and evangelism in such a loosely structured lifestyle, so I hope to address those issues in the near future, along with my understanding of what many people call “the fivefold ministry” (apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers). One step at a time. And please understand that I’m also still going through a process of transition in my own mind about many of these things, so if you have insights that you would be willing to share with others, please feel free to leave a comment below.

So you’ve been sharing the good news of God’s grace with a co-worker named Maggie over the past year and you begin seeing evidence of the Holy Spirit’s work in her life. Not so much the externals (she often brings her Bible to read during breaks), but things the Bible describes as the “fruit of the Spirit” (Galatians 5:22-26) in a life that was clearly devoid of these things a year ago. She has become a trophy of God’s grace and you’re absolutely thrilled over this wonderful transformation in her life.

Maggie has never attended any sort of church service except the typical Christmas and Easter productions at a local mega-church, but she knows that many of her neighbors “go to church” because she sees them leaving their homes, almost simultaneously, during her Sunday morning jog. She’s often wondered why these people they invest so much time in church activities—purely on a practical level—knowing that Sunday is the only real day off for many of the parents. Their kids are involved in the same intramural sports teams, piano lessons, martial arts classes, and the whole raft of birthday parties that seem to occupy every Saturday. So she cringes when she thinks about waking her nine-year-old and his two teenaged siblings every Sunday morning to get them ready for Sunday School.

So Maggie decides to ask you a few questions, since you’re the one who introduced her to Jesus:

• “Do I have to go to church to be a real Christian?”
• “Where does the Bible say that I have to go to church? One of my neighbors keeps inviting me, saying that God shows up nearly every week at their church, but I can’t find anything in the Bible about church attendance.”
• “Where do you go to church?”

How would you respond to this new Christian?

Image © BBC, 2009

Imagine growing up within an Old Order Amish community in Pennsylvania: a simple lifestyle, a deliberate avoidance of modern technology, a safe network of deep friendships, a strong work ethic, and the solidarity of a strong church community. What would happen if you choose to leave your Amish roots? A recent BBC television documentary, “Trouble in Amish Paradise,” offers an amazing glimpse into the lives of two young men whose journey into the Scriptures led them to question their heritage and the teachings of their church leaders.

One of the men, Ephraim Stoltzfus, is a dairy farmer who admits that “Amish is just following a set of rules.” He broke tradition when he began reading the Bible in the English language, meeting with others for Bible study and prayer, and sharing the good news of Jesus within his cultural context. Through the study of Scripture, he and several other Old Order Amish have became passionate followers of Jesus Christ, which has cause them to question everything they’ve been taught.

Not following the rules of the Amish order has serious consequences beyond the act of excommunication itself, especially when being shunned by your lifelong network of friends and family means losing your only safety net in times of financial loss or catastrophic medical circumstances. Stoltzfus realized these implications when his daughter was suddenly diagnosed with leukemia, but thankfully his Amish friends surrounded the family in their time of need since—by virtue of an ecclesiastical loophole—his wife and children had not been excommunicated by church leaders.

I couldn’t help but consider the parallels between this young Amish man and the Protestant Reformers who risked everything when, as Luther described it, their hearts and minds were captivated by the authority of Scripture. It causes all other allegiances to fade in comparison, even when it means you no longer fit in or your very life is threatened by those in powerful places. These similarities also extend to those who have left the institutional church (IC) and, for whatever reason, find themselves labeled as renegades or trouble-makers. One former pastor put it this way:

All the circles I used to run in, as a leader in the church, seem foreign to me now. I have a hard time mingling with church pastors, because I no longer feel driven to grow a church or to be seen as successful in those circles, and thus I lose interest in talking about the kinds of things pastors regularly talk about when they get together. Plus, when one of those pastors figures out I am doing a house church, either I become a threat, or not really “one of them”.

No doubt it must be difficult to leave a system of religion wherein you’ve invested most of your life. The Reformers didn’t sit down one day and decide to start a revolution within the Roman Catholic Church: the word “reform” means to change something from within. They would have been happy if their religious system had been willing to change, but they soon found out how deeply entrenched and obstinate the powers-that-be really were. Virtually overnight they became revolutionaries, rather than reformers; outcasts instead of brothers with legitimate disagreements with the system; and heretics to those who established and maintained the rules of their religion.

The Stoltzfus brothers made the same discovery when they began questioning the status quo of the Old Order Amish society in which they had been born and raised. And I’m sure that many of us who are leaving the IC would much rather see positive change—even gradual shifts in the system—than feel like there’s no other choice but starting a new life outside the walls of Zion. For me, I truly don’t know what that’s going to look like, other than the testimony of others who have gone before me, and it’s a little unsettling…probably because it’s so unfamiliar. But like other “reformers turned revolutionary” I’m optimistic that the unseen future must be better than the present frustration and misery that I’m experiencing within a system where my heart and soul are no longer nourished and encouraged (rather malnourished and discouraged).

One thing you will notice about Stan Firth’s approach is his gentle spirit and humble way of putting forth his Scriptural foundation for an unstructured church-lifestyle. He is quick to make room for everyone and he lovingly attempts to disarm those on both sides who may be quick to criticize one another:

Does this mean that centuries of church-goers have been wrong? Not at all – as I shall hope to demonstrate in the next chapter. Does this mean that I have to brand as “heretics” everyone nowadays who goes faithfully to Sunday worship, or that I have to cut myself off from loving fellowship with them? In no way—as the next stage of my booklet will reveal. But it does mean that my “fellow travellers”, and I, should not be branded as heretics either, since we are not, after all, out of harmony with the Scriptures. Those who are associated with the “unstructured church” must not let their good be evil spoken of. They can hold their heads up high and say: “I am walking with the Lord, in the light of His word—within the bounds of Scripture.”

When I first read the book, it was a simple A4-sized booklet (75 pages) in Portable Document Format (PDF) that you could download from John Langford’s website (a dear brother in the south of England) and print on your own printer. I’m not sure if it had ever been published in book form, but that has changed with the advent of on-demand print services like Lulu.

Custom and Command can now be ordered from Lulu for £2.02 in the UK or $3.48 USD, plus shipping costs (significant savings per copy if you order multiples). Here’s the link to Stan Firth’s store on Lulu. I’m really happy to commend this 88-page paperback to you and your IC friends!

1. I’m not burning any bridges! Not with friends who remain in vocational ministry or those who simply attend an institutional church. If they can passionately pursue their relationship with Jesus and other believers in that context, then who am I to persuade them to leave? Or treat them any differently?
2. I’m not sharpening my axe! Personally, I suspect the IC will always be with us. I refuse to go on a crusade against the institution and try to single-handedly dismantle the system. If people approach me and ask why I quit attending church meetings at the local Baptist church, then I will tell them honestly. But I have no intentions of ripping into pastors, church leaders, and members for attending an IC if that’s where they feel they need to be.
3. I’m not planting a house church! To me, most house churches are simply a miniature version of their larger cousin on the corner of 4th and Main. Most people have great difficulties with the multiplication process, so most house churches end up renting larger space and, the next thing you know, they eventually erect a building of their own. Many house churches follow a pattern of worship (aka “liturgy”) and emphasize “preaching” to the point that I see very little difference other than the square footage.

My hope is simply to live alongside other believers in a way that makes Jesus known to those who don’t know Him. I want to share His life with others around me without feeling compelled to ask, “So where do you go to church?” And my primary aim will be to encourage other believers in the faith, looking for ways to stimulate them in their love for Christ and their neighbor, as well as to join them in doing good for those around us, in the name of Jesus Christ.

But I was wrong to do that. As I deeply desire the fellowship of others, I have no right to such fellowship and camaraderie if it has to be forced. I have always enjoyed the liberty and freedom of making up my own mind about things; and sometimes I end up going completely against the flow. What I have come to realize is that I should cherish the same thing for others…to respect their journey and what God is doing in their hearts through the amazing influences of the Holy Spirit. This is my journey, not their journey!

So I have laid down my “weapons” of persuasion and “surrendered” my friends into the same gracious care of the triune God that I myself enjoy every day. If I were able to convince them to join me on this journey outside the box, then either (1) someone else along the way may persuade them to take a completely different path or (2) they may grow to resent me for pressuring them into something they were not ready for. And it’s just not worth it.

Some people have a difficult time letting go and some even go back after leaving the institutional church. Whether you leave altogether or continue to attend Sunday meetings, your main priorities are loving God with your heart, soul, mind, and strength…and loving your neighbor as yourself. There may be times when you sincerely miss the contact with brothers and sisters in Christ from your previous church connection; so why not drop in from time to time, join them in praising God corporately, and linger over the fellowship time. However, you may find it more painful or frustrating to re-engage people in that particular context and, if so, perhaps you can still maintain those relationships in more neutral surroundings. Invite them over for dessert or a meal. Let them know you treasure their friendship and that you have no intentions of giving that up, just because you no longer attend their Sunday meetings. Some may not understand, no matter how hard you try to explain the way you feel.

But really, there’s no place for guilt in your spiritual life simply because you have chosen to walk a different path, one that perhaps few people are willing to travel. The time may come when more may join us in the journey, but for now it may be a quite lonely road.

Part 1: A Child Following Hard After Father
Part 2: From Legalism to Grace
Part 3: Broken Hearts and Broken Promises
Part 4: Leaving and Coming
Part 5: Deconstructions and Constructions

While living in Germany for a brief period of time, God brought a fellow American into Heidi’s life and the two of them began getting together informally to share their lives from week to week. At some point in their relationship, she says (excerpted from part 5):

I started asking questions. Just where did we get American-style, institutional churches anyway? They didn’t remind me too much of what I read in Scripture. I started wondering about our formulation of “church”….lots of people, sitting in a room arranged with a stage and an audience, listening to what basically amounted to a concert and then listening to someone in front talk through a passage of Scripture…what did this have to do with participating in the Body of Christ, having real relationships with other believers, building them up, inviting them to live in the life of Christ, meeting each other’s needs, feeding the widow and the orphan, fighting poverty and loving our neighbors? Was it a necessary component of following God and knowing God? I had no doubt that some people could find, in the context of normal, institutional churches, true fellowship and encouragement and life as the body of Christ; some people could find a place to meet others’ needs and get their own met; some people could feed the widow and the orphan through the context of their local church, and could fight poverty, and could love their neighbors. I’d seen it, and even at one time experienced it myself. God first came for me, remember, within the context of church and church conferences.

But was it necessary that it be that way? Just because some people could find, in the context of traditional, institutional local churches, what God must have meant when he called us a “Body”, did that mean it was the only way? The God-ordained way? Did he spell it out, that it had to happen that way? Because if it was, why was I missing it, and why were so many other people missing it, when we wanted to find it so badly?

I tried to go back to church. I did. Every time I would end up either angry, or bawling my eyes out in tears from the condemnation and shame that I found there. Meanwhile, without being in the local church, I was growing more than I ever had. I was reading and learning like crazy. God was speaking to me. I was going to conferences (like Ransomed Heart’s “Captivating”) and eating up what God was teaching me there. I was spending time in relationship with other believers; I was finding myself in the unique position of meeting the needs of people who were left outside in the cold by their respective churches. For so long I’d defined myself by certain things. Bible studies. Quiet times. Small groups. Sunday school. Evangelism trips with members from church. Sermon notes. My “life in Christ” was really “life in church” – and the funny thing was, it gave me many burdens to carry, many “plates to spin” as C. J. Mahaney put it in that groundbreaking talk on legalism I talked about earlier. Even good things became burdens, part of the shame game that seemed designed to make sure my behavior matched that of “the good Christian” as defined by Church XYZ, but none of it brought me intimacy with my Father. My soul was left dry and empty by the organized church, and yet God had begun to work in amazing ways in my life….outside of the box of organized religion.