I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance, and how you cannot bear with those who are evil, but have tested those who call themselves apostles and are not, and found them to be false. I know you are enduring patiently and bearing up for my name's sake, and you have not grown weary. But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent. Yet this you have: you hate the works of the Nicolaitans, which I also hate. He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.
(Revelation 2:2-7 ESV)
My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory. For if a man wearing a gold ring and fine clothing comes into your assembly, and a poor man in shabby clothing also comes in, and if you pay attention to the one who wears the fine clothing and say, “You sit here in a good place,” while you say to the poor man, “You stand over there,” or, “Sit down at my feet,” have you not then made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my beloved brothers, has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor man. Are not the rich the ones who oppress you, and the ones who drag you into court? Are they not the ones who blaspheme the honorable name by which you were called?
(James 2:1-7 ESV)
What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that? So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.
(James 2:14-17 ESV)
Revelation 2-3 and James 2 should convict you no matter what denomination or church background you come from. But as my title suggests, I'm aiming my blog post today towards those who hold to the Westminster Confession of Faith, who teach and memorize the Westminster Shorter and Larger Catechism, and favor reading reformers and puritans over the theologians of the modern era.
A few years ago, I was ordained as a deacon. It was a very humbling and profound moment in my life. As I took my vows, I didn't feel a sense of accomplishment. I felt a deep sense of responsibility. I felt a deep sense of dread. I was swearing loyalty to the King of Kings, to serve His Church, to serve those He calls me to serve, and to serve them in the same manner in which He served me, following His example. I wasn't excited about the calling. I was terrified.
I remember attending my first deacon meeting. I was out of place. I was young. I was inexperienced. It didn't take long for me to feel inadequate. It didn't take me long to think that my ordination was a mistake. It didn't take long for me to question by qualification to serve the church as a deacon. Maybe my church made a mistake. But...God doesn't make mistakes. So, why was I here?
I was a reformed reader. I used to devour theology books. Shortly after God adopted me as His son, I spent almost every penny I had on theology books. It wasn't a quest for mere head knowledge. I read John Calvin, Augustine, John Owen, and Charles Spurgeon and I read the words of men who knew God. Their knowledge wasn't cerebral, but it was relational. Much like a parent knows their child, much like a husband knows his wife, these men knew Christ. They wrote about their Savior, Father, and Comforter because He revealed Himself to them in His word, they experienced His grace in their lives, and constantly witnessed His grace in the lives of others.
When I started as a deacon, I was still a hopeless romantic when it came to my views of the modern church, especially the Reformed Presbyterian Church. I was in love. I loved being in a church full of people who knew what they believed and why they believed it. I loved being in a church where everyone was able to articulate the gospel, defend their faith, and desired to grow more and more in their faith, their understanding of God's Word, and their Christian duty and reasonable service. The gospel was proclaimed from behind the pulpit Sunday morning and Sunday evening. I was truly in the midst of people that loved our Triune God and knew Him well.
A year and a half after my ordination as a deacon, I started a new job as a data entry clerk at a local Christian shelter and rehab center. Ever since God placed His name on me, I changed my career goals away from corporate America and towards social service. I couldn't stand the pursuit of the almighty dollar. I knew my life held more meaning than sustaining a lavish lifestyle with a thick paycheck, and I wanted to pursue something that was meaningful, changed people's lives, and glorified God. So, I counted money and pushed buttons on a keyboard. It was a start.
Time went on. As time went on, guilt and conviction built up. Deacon meetings came and went, and I felt we were doing a good job. We watched the budget and tried to keep up with church families, making ourselves available for whatever needs arose. We looked for properties for our newly established congregation to move into. We were performing our duties, but something was missing. Although the work I was doing was good and necessary, I couldn't help but feel that we were neglecting something. Something important. I wasn't the only one.
Our deacon board and session met and discussed outreach opportunities in our community. Our community was smaller, close knit, and we had to brainstorm ways in which we could serve and help our community. It was a good discussion. It was a profitable discussion. We determined that we would reach out to the local social services provider and find ways we could get involved. It didn't take them long to let us know that they needed a group of volunteers the following week.
The day of the outreach opportunity came and two people had signed up to help. The number dropped to one when I woke up that morning feeling ill. I remember how guilty I felt calling my good friend and fellow deacon with the sad news that he was on his own. I was devastated and heartbroken. I was upset and frustrated. I spent the day contemplating what the next course action would be.
Sadly, this was the straw that broke the camel's back. I didn't want to be a deacon anymore. I didn't want to serve these people anymore. I was frustrated. I spent the work week seeing and experiencing first hand the great need for churches to get involved with relief, rehabilitative, and empowerment organizations that serve the poor, the homeless, and the addicted in my community. I wanted my local congregation to get involved with our community, reaching out to those that society has largely ignored. A huge part of the problem was that my church was a twenty five minute drive away, a different community than the one I lived and worked in, and it didn't make any sense to get them involved with the organization I worked for, although that felt like the thing to do.
I was also frustrated because my session discussed the need for our congregation to get involved with outreach opportunities in our community. When an opportunity came up, no one was available? Not a single member of the session? I admired and looked up to these men. They were my leaders. However, in this great respect, they were not leading. Not a single soul in our congregation was available to serve? This I couldn't stomach. This I couldn't stand.
I went back to work, and I queried our database to find out how many of the local churches (there are about 500) had financially supported the Christian organization I worked for within the last year. We had just recently expanded our emergency winter shelter to house more people during the deadly Colorado winter nights. Surely, this great need in our community was supported by the local congregations that cared for human life. It wasn't 500. It wasn't 300. It wasn't 100. It wasn't even 50. It wasn't even 20. My heart sank.
I was a hopeless romantic (a blue blood) for the reformed faith. I had just discovered a huge flaw in the church, and what's worse, the reformed churches were also at fault. My heart was broken. My eyes were opened. I saw the reformed faith in a new light.
Things were going to be different. I was going to have to make some difficult decisions. I was going to have to resign from the deacon board at the church twenty miles north and return to the mother church I was first installed in two miles north from where I lived and worked. I was going to have to do the hardest thing I've ever done, but I knew I was doing the right thing.
I tell you my story so that you can understand the context of my frustration and my disappointment in the local body of Christ in my community, especially the two reformed churches I have been a member of.
In Revelation 2, Christ tells the congregation in Ephesus that it is not enough to defend the faith from those who would seek to pervert the gospel, the church, and the truth contained in God's Word. The church of Ephesus was faithful to spread week killer to protect the soil in the garden, but they were not planting any seeds. The garden was thick with mature growth, there were no weeds, but there was no new growth. They lost the love they once had for the lost. They were more concerned about making sure that impostors didn't infiltrate their midst that they hardened themselves against those outside of the church.
In James 2, James challenges Christians to consider their concern and love for the poor. The example James provides is representative of a whole rather than speaking about an isolated incident. James is not challenging the church to give poor people the best seats in the house during a Sunday morning worship service. James is challenging the church's concern, love, outreach, and evangelistic approach to the poor. Are you placing poor people and their needs as a prominent part of your church's ministry? Or does your church have no idea how to minister to the poor and spend hardly any resources for improving their ministry to assisting those in need? The answer to these questions rests in your budget, in the work your deacons and elders are devoting themselves to, and the number of times you have participated in an outreach to the poor in your community.
"Has not God chosen those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith
and heirs of the kingdom, which he has promised to those who love him?
But you have dishonored the poor man." It's a rhetorical question followed by a statement of guilt. God chose those who are poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom, and if your congregation doesn't invite the poor to participate in God's kingdom by calling them to place their faith in Christ the King, then you have dishonored the poor man. Proverbs (a book of wisdom) explains what it means to dishonor the poor:
Whoever oppresses a poor man insults his Maker,
but he who is generous to the needy honors him.
(Proverbs 14:31 ESV)
Whoever mocks the poor insults his Maker;
he who is glad at calamity will not go unpunished.
(Proverbs 17:5 ESV)
I strongly challenge the two local Reformed Presbyterian churches in my community to consider whether or not they believe God has chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom. If they truly believe this, then how is this made evident? How much time do they spend on outreach activities to help the poor? How much of their yearly budget is devoted to an internal ministry to the poor or is ear marked to help an established and effective local nonprofit that ministers to the poor? How many people in their congregation feel comfortable speaking to the poor? How many of the deacons have studied human services and have strong biblical convictions on the necessity to help the poor in a manner that restores their personhood, reconciles them to God by faith in Christ, and welcomes them with open arms to the Kingdom of God?
Shortly after James challenges the church on their love, concern, and outreach to the poor, he continues onto one of the most quoted portions of scripture. Faith without works is dead. What context was this stated? It was in the context of the need to minister to the poor.
What is the reformed faith if there are not reformed works that flow from it? Is it not a dead faith? It can be biblical, it can truthful, it can be grounded in historical theology, it can boldly and profoundly pronounce Christ and Him risen, but if it remains a mere knowledge rather than a lifestyle then it is dead. It is worthless.
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