Respected pastor and author, John Piper, caused a minor
firestorm when he posted a question about whether sipping coffee and reverent
worship go together. You know you’ve touched a nerve when something like this
goes viral:
As of today, it’s been viewed nearly 3 million times[i] with 3,000+ likes. And I
have to admit something about his question resonates with me. But I’ve been
examining my own heart.
When my wife and I prepare couples for marriage, we begin a
conversation about expectations. Right or wrong, good or bad, every couple
bring expectations into their relationship. These are largely based on experience,
often from their family of origin. We don’t tend to think about these
expectations because everybody thinks their normal is normal. (i.e. The guy
works on things that break down and the wife does most of the housework.) The
sooner you can identify those expectations and talk through them, the better.
These stereotypes can be the source of strain in a marriage:
“I just assumed she had the accounting under control.”
“My Dad was super handy around the house, so I expected
my husband to do the same.”
These expectations don’t have to be a problem if you discuss
them in advance and identify what is an absolute and what is a preference.
The same thing is true in spiritual matters.
If you have no spiritual heritage, there aren’t many
expectations. Not much to compare to except bad flicks and sitcoms. But if you
do, these expectations can turn into heated arguments that divide friendships
and churches. The sad part is when we can’t discuss them in a reasonable way.
“The pastor should visit me in the hospital.”
“Everyone on the platform should wear business casual
dress.”
“It is irreverent to wear flip-flops while preaching.”
“Suits and robes symbolize false superiority.”
“Church is not a building. Worship is more authentic outdoors.”
What comes up when we read these statements is related to
our beliefs, expectations, assumptions, and experiences. What is hard for all
of us is to discern when something is simply a preference.
It’s helpful to pull back from the emotion if we can and ask,
“Is my expectation based on my unique experience? Is this a preference or is
this an absolute?”
Some like Erik Thoennes have distinguished between these by
dividing beliefs into categories like absolutes, convictions, opinions, and
questions.
I have tweaked his diagram to look like this:
1. Absolutes - theological truths that are timeless. They are true in every place
and every time. For me, and for orthodox Christians, these are scripturally
clear doctrines.
2. Convictions - beliefs we hold, based upon principles in scripture. They may have
strong implications depending on the culture.
3. Opinions - knotty theological matters that Christians have debated for
centuries. If we’re wise, we don’t divide friendships and fellowship over
these.
4. Preferences - things we prefer. They may be loosely based on scripture, our experiences, or our cultural context.
Let’s take flip-flops for example. One person in a
conservative church in the United States may say:
It’s so disrespectful and irreverent to read scripture or
lead worship in flip-flops.
But scripturally this is impossible to defend as an
absolute. If anything, we could argue the opposite---that we are being more
like Jesus when wearing flip-flops because he wore sandals. This is also
cultural. I have a friend in India, who asked us to take off our shoes before preaching
because they consider the platform to be holy ground. (i.e. Moses took off his
shoes before the burning bush.)
Then there’s the question of whether it’s appropriate for a
minister to wear footwear that cost more than $100 USD. One might argue that
wearing expensive shoes should disqualify one from leadership when it’s
obvious that style or comfort has become more important than gospel ministry.
(i.e. Shouldn’t the money spent on those Carhartt boots have been spent on the
poor or for missionary work?)
What if we could simply admit that many of these are
preferences? Not absolutes. If not preferences, could we at least admit these
are convictions that we hold? Not absolutes?
Some people prefer classical music, organs, handbells and
choirs. Some prefer guitars and exuberant settings. Some think that robes and
suits reflect more reverence. Others see these things as ostentatious or, at
least, pretentious.
Bottom line? The scripture doesn’t prescribe some things for
all places and all times. And we should be careful not to call those things, absolutes.
For example, there is no scriptural mandate that worship
should be done by candlelight, sunlight, or LED lights. We may prefer candles.
Others may be triggered by candles because of association with austerity rather
than simplicity. Others say good lighting helps them to focus on Jesus rather
than the “charismatic waver” in the third row.
Congregations, elders, and leaders should sort out what
communicates reverence within their own cultural context. What symbolizes
reverence in one tradition is irreverent in another. What is sacred space in
one culture is impossible to achieve in a poor neighborhood.
At the same time, we should beware of our fallenness. Pride
is subtle. We are blind to our…blind spots. To truly worship requires dying to
something. Can we say we are truly worshipping if it costs us nothing? Sometimes
what it costs us is our preferences.
Some of the same people who say, “It is irreverent to
worship with flipflops, t-shirts and jeans” are the same ones who say, “I can
get just as much out of worship at home.” They see no problem worshipping at
home in sock feet and bathrobe, eating Rice Krispies or scrolling on their
phone while the minister prays.
Let me be clear. I am not condemning the person who can’t
attend a worship gathering because their body hurts, or they find it dangerous
to walk on an icy parking lot for fear of falling. What I am questioning is how
quickly we divide over our preferences considering them as non-negotiable
absolutes.
Disputable matters
Accept the one whose faith is weak, without quarreling over disputable matters. (Romans 14:1 NIV)
As a pastor for 40+ years, what is sad to me is how often
people divide a congregation over preferences or opinions on disputable matters
and how rare it is for someone to leave over truly theological matters.
It is honorable, although not commanded in every case, to divide
over absolutes or convictions that have strong implications for culture and the
future of the church.
Here are some good reasons to leave a fellowship:
· When the statement of faith is no longer rooted
in scripture.
· When the church pivots simply because “we don’t
want to offend anybody”
· When the leadership team is more concerned about
seeking a crowd than seeking God.
· When the pastor talks more about good behavior
than the good news (the gospel)
· When the pastor or elder’s personal life doesn’t
match his pulpit life
There are more. But let’s not imitate the popular worldview
that says, “If you disagree with me, you are hateful.”
Let’s also beware of our own pride that slices both ways. Do
we make our preferences holy just because we like them? Are our efforts
to “be authentic” simply an exchange for a different style that we happen to
prefer? Do we sneer at someone who worships in dress shoes as if they are pretentious
or arrogant? God knows the heart. The hipster who wears his sandals can be more
proud than a guy in a suit who straps his guitar too high and still perms his
hair. We can become “proud” of our authenticity.
For those of us who grew up in a Christianity with big screens,
suits and permed hair, it’s easy for us to look at our jeans, candles and
contemplative moments as holy and authentic. But I should beware.
Remember the worshipper Jesus describes who stands and prays,
“Thank you, God, I’m not like that guy over there. He’s a sinner but I’m in good-standing
with you” (Luke 18:11). This can happen just as easily in jeans as a robe. For
some, this happens with a sneer from a lady in the back row who wears a dress and
an expensive broach. For others, it’s a snicker as we scroll Instagram and see that
guy in a suit singing “Shout to the Lord” in the wrong key. I can be the
Pharisee in jeans and Birkenstocks just as easily as I can in a suit and black
wing-tipped shoes.
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