I was recently approached by a member of the Delta Mu Beta Alpha Alpaca Gamma Sting Ray Christian society on the sidewalk of the University where I am taking my last prerequisite classes before medical school.
As an aside, it is very strange to be enrolled in college classes once you've already graduated from college. Like some ridiculously amateur form of espionage, I am constantly gaping fascinated at the humanity that swirls by me, trying to understand what makes these college kids tick and wondering at the strange disconnect I feel with people my age. I say espionage, because no one ever believes I've actually already done my 4 years of time. In fact, they assume I'm a freshman that graduated early from high school. This presupposition is encouraged by the fact that my hair is never done, I constantly show up in workout clothes, and am usually staring awkwardly at people. Cool.
Anyways, I was identified, scouted, and bagged, as I saw this girl observing me from 200 yards away and begin casually closing in, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to assume the walking pattern of a drunk bumblebee through the crowd of humanity grouped on the sidewalk. Never breaking her gaze, she honed in on her target; my cursory glance at her producing a sinking in the stomach associated with answering your phone and hearing the too-cheery telemarketer on the other end. The apprehended prey knew it was caught.
At 20 yards, her bloodhound on a scent demeanor changed, and she bounced up to me traversing the dusty pavement in the glaring sun, her smile a little too bright. She looked like she was trying to cover up hesitation with cheerfulness; the result making her overly bubbly, her movements somewhat forced and jerky, her smile somewhat plastered. Her neon tank with the words 'Padre 2013', paired with the skinny jeans cutting off circulation to her legs and trendy toms on her feet, was an overwhelming combination.
"Hi! Do you have a minute!?"
I looked around for an escape route, knowing the multiplicative properties of these people's 'minutes'. Nothing in sight.
I wanted to be nice. I felt sorry for her, especially since she'd chosen me as her proselytism mission. What a bad gig. So I answered.
"Hey, yeah, sure, I have a minute".
The torrential outpouring of words came like Niagara falls released after a month-long dam.
"Awesome! Great! Hi! I'm so-and-so from Delta Kappa Alpaca Gamma Sting Ray society here on campus, totally awesome, have you ever heard of us!?"
Well, yes I had. Vaguely, once or twice, in passing. And by that I mean every time their neon flyers peppered the lawns of campus; valiantly attempting to keep up with the 400 other societies in an advertising hurricane of brightly colored pieces of paper. Or when their attractive hipster models would crowd the green lawn, inviting you with a winning smile to drink organic coffee and have open Jesus discussion. As opposed to closed Jesus discussion, I guess.
"Yeah, yeah I have heard of you guys."
Another blinding smile.
"Great! Awesome! Have you ever attended one of our events? We have lots of cool events with free pizza, snacks, drinks, you know!"
Yeah, I knew.
"No, I haven't ever come to one, but I have heard of some of the events, yeah".
Her face lit up even brighter upon hearing that.
"Awesome! Well I just wanted to invite you to our night of praise tomorrow night, there'll be snacks, drinks, and you can come worship with us."
At this point, I was interested as to why the purpose behind all this fancy get up hadn't yet been mentioned. I mean, we'd covered what I'd get for showing up (food, oh holy grail of college motivators), what I'd participate in when I showed up, what time I'd show up...but why was I really showing up? It was a curious position to be in, with this Alpaca Sting Ray society member thinking I had no inkling of what Christians were about; on the other side of the great Christian social group. For a split second, I felt a strange sensation of being behind enemy lines, "So this is what we look like". I decided to play dumb. It wasn't hard.
"Oh ok, yeah, that sounds awesome! (You see my incognito persona supported by use of college kid lingo!) Um, but like, worship....what do you mean?".
Now we'd come to the question, and I could see her sightly squirm, her smile a little dimmer.
"Well, I mean it's really fun, we all like, get together, and chill, and eat snacks, and worship God. I mean, if you're into that kind of thing. You should totally come out!"
Her eyes were begging me to just agree and move on, her quota of people done for the day. So I smiled, and told her if I had free time, I'd come and check it out. Relief flooded her face and she bounded away after a peppy, "Awesome! Have an awesome day!".
In a world where technology allows societal acceleration at previously impossible rates, If you have a product to sell, marketing is the daily burgeoning communication of the masses. The niche is narcissism, and self sells.
So often, I have heard the lamenting talks of evangelicals, stressing the importance of the church changing to keep pace with modern progression. It sounds like this: We are the face of Jesus to a dying world, and we have to be able to communicate with them: talk like them, think like them, look like them. They can't love Jesus if they don't ever meet Him, and they won't ever meet Him if they aren't attracted to Him, and so we must be His attractive, inviting, exciting face, the one that people are drawn to, the one that makes them want to know more.
There's just one problem.
Jesus was not attractive. And neither was the way he lived. He was not a celebrity, He was homeless. He wasn't a political, conquering hero of the people, He was a dissenter on the fringe.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, "When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die." And when you take a look at how previous disciples lives have gone, it brings sobering perspective.
The original 12: some crucified, some crucified upside down, some burned alive, some beheaded. The list goes on.
More current disciples: Speared through in Ecuador, Hung in a concentration camp, raped and beaten, died of a brain tumor in a Chinese internment camp. And on and on.
Could it be that our perception of what it means to follow Christ has been ever-so-slightly warped? Could it be that we are living, out loud, a lie? A lie that says that Jesus is for you. That God has special plans for you. That you should pursue the dreams He put in your heart for you because He wants to make your life beautiful and exciting and prosperous, full of shining hope and uniquely planned purpose.
Jesus is for the glory of His Father. You are an inconsequential sinner, a result of the fall, whose infinite value and worth are solely given to you because God Himself values you deeply. Your purpose is worship through obedience.
Is true discipleship and costly grace being exchanged for garnering a fan-club following? The issue here is not simply ill-intentions, but misrepresentation. Worship is a life position, not a hang-out activity. Jesus is not a rock star in need of publicity, He's a suffering Messiah who calls you to obedience. Being a disciple is not a fun self-help club that shows you how the word needs your unique gifts, it is a daily burying of your self, your dreams, and your life for the sake of Christ.
Is our marketing of Jesus destroying true discipleship?
I don't know. How many Christians believe that they are called to come and die?
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