CHAPTER 1
The Gospel Is Offensive. Nothing Else Should Be
We live in a society where people are easily offended.
We tend to get riled up over just about anything: political scandals, social justice, dietary preferences. Song lyrics, public school curriculum, beer commercials. Cultural norms, water cooler conversations, social media posts. From animal rights to abortion and global warming to gluten sensitivities, we all have a hill that weâre willing to die on and we canât wait to throw a verbal punch at anyone who may disagree.
Iâm not sure when it became fashionable to get our collective jumpers in a bunch over every potential disagreement thatâs out there. Maybe I should start by blaming my own generation.* I hit my elementary school stride in the late 1970s and early â80s. Those of us on the tail end of Gen X started well. We ushered out the era of Brady Bunch collars and bell-bottoms (youâre welcome). We said good-bye to lava lamps and hello to Cabbage Patch Kids (Iâm sorry). We were the Coke versus Pepsi generation, the kids who saw Reagan get shot and the Challenger explode, the group who was scared to death of nuclear war when we werenât too busy hurling our Rubikâs Cubes across the shag-carpeted living room in frustration.
But we may also have been the first generation to grow up in Bubble Wrap. Somewhere along the line we stopped riding our bikes in the streets after dark and started barricading ourselves behind closed doors while scary news shows told us about the scary things we didnât know we should be scared of. When we scraped a knee, we no longer were told just to rub some dirt on it or walk it off, but also to get booster shots to ward off infection and maybe toss in an MRI for good measure.
And beyond the basics of safety and health, we somehow stumbled into Bubble-Wrapping our feelings. We were inspired to find our inner voice. We were told that we were special and unique.* We started using terms like self-esteem and personal worth. We were told that we were snowflakes.
Precious.
If Iâm honest, a part of me understands this. As a parent of four children, I think thereâs merit in cautiously guiding our kids and leading ourselves in a world gone mad. But can you agree with me that weâve gone a little overboard? You donât have to spend more than a few minutes on Facebook or in the comments section on any webpage to discover that the Bubble-Wrapped generation has grown up. We lurk in the shadows, watching for an opportunity to get our feelings hurt over some poorly worded phrase or poorly executed campaign. We apply our politically correct rules and postmodern assessments to decide what will and will not fly in regard to culture, religion, whatever. We cry âfoulâ over the slightest hint of the slightest offense that may or may not be out there waiting to squash our inner voice and threaten the fragility of our self-esteem.
Weâve even invented a word for these offenses: microaggressions. Itâs a term that sounds almost adorable, like a tiny teacup Chihuahua with huge eyes and a high-pitched bark. Except that when you offend the Chihuahua you realize that he represents a consortium of pit bulls and Rottweilers who would love nothing more than to chew your face off and then publicly shame you in the media.
Keeping up with the terminology weâre supposed to use has almost become a game. I can never remember if I should call my congresspersons to complain about the challenges facing the underresourced persons of size who may be dietetically impaired, or if thatâs more a conversation I have with my significant other gender-different life partner.*
Hereâs the point: people get offended over lots of things. I certainly have my own proclivities that you might find silly. Some of you may have already gotten offended at this chapter, and weâre just a couple of pages in.â We may be able to do little to counter the offenses people decide to take on, but we can certainly do our part not to add to the pile.
There is a flip side of the offense coin, and thatâs the âmake everybody happyâ issue of tolerance. American culture loves tolerance. Itâs the buzzword that keeps school systems in line and fuels politiciansâ speeches. Because tolerance is so easyâexcept when itâs not. Like when people arenât tolerant of the things we want them to be tolerant of. And when the tolerance police refuse to tolerate those who donât show tolerance, then it just gets silly.
When it comes to religious tolerance, John Piper has this to say:
Once upon a time tolerance was the power that kept lovers of competing faiths from killing each other. It was the principle that put freedom above forced conversion. It was rooted in the truth that coerced conviction is no conviction. That is true tolerance. But now the new professional tolerance denies that there are any competing faiths; they only complement each other. It denounces not only the effort to force conversions but also the idea that any conversion may be necessary. It holds the conviction that no religious conviction should claim superiority over another. In this way, peaceful parity among professionals can remain intact, and none need be persecuted for the stumbling block of the cross (Gal. 5:11).1
Churches should be a safe place for the offended and a challenging place for the tolerant. The weekend gathering should point people beyond their preferences and peculiarities and to the life-changing power of God. It should be a time when we collectively come together to see that our individual story is just a tiny speck in the grander story of Godâs design for humanity. When the people of God assemble, it should be less about grumbling, less about âLetâs all just get along,â and more about the grandeur of Jesus.
Thereâs just one small problem.
Typically, church people are among the worst when it comes to taking offense. We love to get offended when our nonbelieving friends and neighbors say or do anything that we perceive as an attack on our faith. We are quick to cry, âPersecution!â when our employer kindly asks us to stop passing out tracts or a Christian movie gets a bad review after a public release.* We are quick to ostracize our friends when their political proclivities donât line up toe to toe with our religious persuasion. In an age of outrage, weâve forgotten the subtle, fragrant aroma of graciousness.
Thatâs why it can be hard for us to see how Christian cultureâand more specifically, our weekend gatheringsâcan be perceived as offensive to those on the outside. Because of our thin skin, we tend to view the weekend worship experience as our refuge from the world. We get to sing our songs, listen to our stories, sit in our pews, and do things our way. We fence ourselves off and barricade ourselves in against those evildoers on the outside. And we are a people who have become familiarly comfortable with the way we do things. Our traditionsâfor good or for badâare our traditions.
But we need to avoid assuming that because churches are modern, progressive, or cutting edge, theyâre any less traditional. Though you may slap new paint on old ways and give them a different name, you can still become entrenched in the way things are done in your particular fellowship. A drum set can be as much of a sacred cow as a pipe organ. Small groups can become as untouchable as Sunday school. And for that reason, we tend to protect our methods pretty fiercely. We dress them up in robes and liturgy. We modernize and rebrand them. We hold on to history or blaze new trails. Whatever you do, you probably are doing it because you think thatâs the best way. Itâs your way.
But is it something your surrounding community can understand? If someone comes into your church as a first-time guest, can they break through those traditions, decipher the secret handshake, and figure out your cultural code? Are your weekend services set up to serve you and those like you, or are they set up so guests see Jesus on display and are invited to engage with him? Do you meet people where they are, or must they work to crack the perimeter and get inside? We must remember that what is traditional for insiders can prove confusing for outsiders.
Is your church a chasm for seekers or a catalyst to Jesus?
Answering this question in a way that is welcoming to those on the outside means learning to deal with offenses. If people are offended by their experience at your church, they arenât likely to give you a second hearing. If their offense is at the forefront, then the message of the gospel fades into the background. You can resource thousands of dollars, dozens of leaders, and hundreds of volunteers for an excellent weekend experience, but if a guest is offended by what you say before the service, what you do during the service, o...