I’ve grown tired of criticism. Regrettably, it is part of who I have always been. I’ve excelled at it through the years. It comes natural not just to my fallen humanity, but it was nurtured in my spiritual heritage both in the church and the academy. I think it comes from being part of over 500 years of protesting in the Protestant heritage at large and over 200 years of seeking to further restore simple early Christianity as an heir of the Stone-Campbell movement. Most of our attention has been on fixing the church rather than saving the world.
But, I’ve had enough now. I’m ready to refocus outward. I’m tired of dissecting what is wrong with every other church or ministry out there. I’m even tired of the self-critique. I’m ready to focus on what I’m for and spend my time encouraging what is good in my own heritage and others. I’m old enough now to feel my mortality, and I know I only have so much time and energy left. I’d like to spend it focusing on promoting what I believe in rather than fighting what I’m against.
I grew up in churches who were known for what we were against. I’m from the a capella, non-class, located preacher, multiple-cup, fellowship-hall-attached Churches of Christ. These are my people and I love them dearly. We were known by many within Churches of Christ as “antis” because we were theoretically against more things that they were against, i.e., Bible classes (or Sunday School). But, this was really a misnomer, because we ended up being more ecumenical and less strident on most other issues because of a historical anomaly I won’t explain here.
Never-the-less, like most in Churches of Christ, we were known for what we were against. No one ever said about us, “Oh, you’re the ones who believe in the unity of all believers,” or “you’re the ones who believe in practicing simple non-sectarian Christianity.” No one ever accused us of “being that group who takes discipleship in Jesus seriously.” I wish. No, what I heard was “Oh, you are the ones who don’t believe in music” (which always galled me because a capella is a wonderful form of music), or “You are that group who doesn’t believe in Bible classes,” or the worst one of all, “You’re the ones who think you are the only ones going to heaven.” That was just not true. We didn’t think even most of us were going to heaven.
Anyway, our identity mostly was rapped up in what we opposed which was commonplace among other followers of Jesus. Despite being heirs of a movement that claimed,“We are not the only Christians, but we are Christians only,” and who worked hard to end sectarian divisions among believers in Jesus, we multiplied divisions to an astonishing level and each group had an identity rooted less in our commitment to Jesus than in what we didn’t do that most believers in Jesus did. We often heard sermons about what was wrong with the beliefs and practices of other churches and why we didn’t believe in doing what they did. Those days are largely gone now, but the spirit of perpetual evaluation remained deep in my habits of mind.
However, within the subculture of my church heritage was a profound irony. We claimed to be committed to the practice of local congregational autonomy. In a way we were deeply committed to this practice. We believed every congregation of God’s people should be self-governing under the direct authority of God as mediated through scripture. We did not believe God intended the church to organize above the level of an individual congregation and we didn’t—at least not formally. The elders and preacher (if he was considered part of leadership) were accountable directly to God and King Jesus. Each congregation was responsible to read the Word of God and obey it as they understood it and no one could interfere. We were against denominational and hierarchical structures. We didn’t believe in regional, national, or global bishops.
Yet, if we believed every church was free of accountability to other churches and answered only to the Lord Jesus himself, why did we feel compelled to pass judgment on other churches? Why stake out our identity in what we rejected? Isn’t that illogical? If we are responsible and free to practice our communal faith as our church sees God’s will revealed in the scriptures, without the oversight of others, how could we ever have gotten to the place where we were known for what we rejected in other churches? Wouldn’t that be largely irrelevant? Shouldn’t we have simply been known for who we were and what we did without comment on the practice of others? Well, theoretically yes. But, while in theory there is no difference between theory and practice, in practice there is.
I bring this up because I believe one of the best gifts of my spiritual heritage was the belief in congregational autonomy. I think this doctrine, which is not stated directly in the New Testament, but which is defensible based on the practice of the early church (the apostles role not-with-standing) is absolutely critical to overcoming the worst burden of my spiritual heritage. The divisions into groups and sub-groups was a product of not respecting one of our own core beliefs. If each congregation is free to obey as they understand scripture, each congregation should also be free of the condemnation of others. Had we really believed in the autonomy of each congregation, we could not have had the wide-spread splits which crossed congregations and created the many sub-groups of my fellowship’s family tree. Every time we lumped congregations together and judged them in mass, assuming we were standing on true ground and could critique all others, we violated our own values.
The great thing about believing in congregational autonomy is that it creates enormous potential for missional flexibility and local contextualization. Perhaps no other doctrine is more critical in serving God’s mission in a global post-Christendom world than this one. Being committed to the authority of scripture, trusting the leading of the Holy Spirit, and letting each community of believers read and practice what the Spirit of God says to them in community is essential as never before. And, it should put the breaks on the ubiquitous, iniquitous obsession Christians have with critiquing each other.
So, let me know how I can help you. Ask me what I believe and what I’m for. I’m happy to join God in building and expanding his work. But, please don’t ask me to critique another group of believers. I may not agree with them. I might not be able to go where they are going or do what they are doing. I may not think they read scripture correctly, at least from my vantage point. I may have all kinds of problems with their faith claims. But, they don’t answer to me. I am no one’s Lord. No churches give account to me. No preachers or elders answer to me. I have my theological convictions, which grow out of my reading of scripture as part of the communities of faith of which I partake in the cultures that impinge on me. But, I am increasingly committed to recognizing that the church is solely owned by God and only he has the right to judge it.
So, it’s time for me to shut my mouth except to confess what I’m for. While I may discuss trends and ideas for the sake of encouraging what I believe to be good, I will not stand in judgment on preachers or churches. I will unapologetically work with everyone who wants to pursue the way of Jesus everywhere we can find common ground, and I will let them answer to the only Lord they have. I will not apologize for or defend my associations to those who would pass judgment on them. Neither will I attack those who attack those with whom I associate. I’m ready to spend all the time I can advancing what I’m for. I’ve resigned from the compliance office of the Kingdom of God. Now, who is with me?
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