This week’s post is from our Worship Director, Joshua Barella. I’m sure you will be blessed.
--John Beeson
Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old (Is. 43:18).
We've just closed the book on our first (and God-willing not our last!) boys’ trip, replete with lakefront paddleboats, water slides, roller coasters, hotel swimming pools, and even a 140 mph stint in a Porsche 911 on the 101, and boy was it a whirlwind. I wouldn't trade the smiles, the laughter, the tears for anything.
Looking back...
As we wrapped up our five-day jaunt in a cozy extended-stay just inside Scottsdale suburbia I was on the verge of mental and physical collapse, whereas the boys, as the Energizer Bunny proffered, just kept going and going and going. I couldn't keep up. In fact I didn't. Their enthusiasm met my exhaustion. I raised my voice at the boys, and in an instant, their elation turned to fear and shame.
Scientists argue that our brains have adopted a defense mechanism called the 'negativity bias' to help us avoid danger or avoid repeating past blunders. The brain thus prioritizes threatening or painful memories over joyous ones as a way to deploy this mechanism. As I stood in that hotel room, irate, heart beating, the looks on my son's faces turned my blood cold.
Would this be what they remembered most?
After we'd showered and cleaned up and readied for bed I sat them down and we talked about what had happened. I asked the boys if they would be forthcoming with me in their telling of three things: 1. What they enjoyed most about our vacation; 2. What scared them the most or what they liked least; and 3. What were they sorry about and wished didn't happen.
Any parent knows that before a child learns to build, he learns to tear down. Our children are two years apart. I still remember our eldest, Camille, running into our room with tears when she was four years old. Her little brother, Soren, had just knocked down her latest block creation.
Psychologists describe this stage as destructive play. Before toddlers can construct something with intention, they are learning cause and effect, physics, spatial reasoning, and fine motor control. Every parent remembers the stage when their toddler begins throwing the spoon, fork, or bowl onto the floor, watching with fascination as gravity does its work. The child is overjoyed; most of us parents are annoyed.
But as a child matures, something changes. She learns not only that she can knock things down, but that she can build things up.
The same is true spiritually. A person who never learns to build up is not merely immature, but has a spiritual lack. Scripture warns us that destructive speech and arrogant criticism can set entire communities on fire, while wisdom brings peace. “Scoffers set a city aflame, but the wise turn away wrath” (Prov. 29:8).
As a young man, I went through my own season of spiritual destructive play. Critique was a quick way to gain attention. Following my undergraduate studies in biblical-theological studies, I was at the ready with opinions on all manner of things in our local church: the sermons, the Sunday School curriculum, the building campaign, and more. Early in my pastoral ministry, one of the first posts I published on a larger platform was a rather scathing critique of children’s Bibles. I also wrote a series of posts critiquing contemporary worship music.
Looking back, I can see that not all my concerns were wrong. Discernment matters. Truth matters. Doctrine matters. But the spirit in which we handle truth matters too.
Our world loves a takedown. We are drawn to social media clips that promise someone will “destroy” another person’s argument. That language itself reveals the appetite. There is a place for God-honoring rebuke (especially when false teaching, sin, or spiritual danger is present) as long as it is given with love and humility, and not presented as self-exalting puffery delivered in derision and arrogance.
Christians are called to build up. Paul makes this point repeatedly in his letters:
· “Strive to excel in building up the church.” 1 Cor. 14:12
· “Let all things be done for building up.” 1 Cor. 14:26
· [God] “makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.” Eph. 4:16
· “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.” Eph. 4:29
· “Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing.” 1 Thess. 5:11
The longer I lead, the more I appreciate the challenge of building. Recently, I was having coffee with one of our elders when he said, “I used to be embarrassed that I’m a builder, but recently I’ve been convicted that God loves builders.” He is right. Consider the parable of the talents (Matt. 25:14-30), where God commends two of the three servants who multiplied what had been entrusted to them. Or consider the detailed attention God gives to the construction of the tabernacle in Exodus in which 13 chapters are devoted to materials, measurements, craftsmanship, beauty, order, and obedience. Or consider that God devotes three chapters in Nehemiah to describe in detail the reconstruction of the walls and gates around Jerusalem. The people of God put their hands to work, each taking responsibility for a portion of the wall. God does not treat faithful construction as incidental. He fills builders with skill and calls them to create according to his design. God loves building and God loves builders.
A year following the close of his presidency, in a speech at the Sorbonne in Paris, Theodore Roosevelt famously reflected on the merit of the one who enters the arena rather than the one who merely criticizes from a distance:
It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.
The mature Christian recognizes that discernment may grow during an early season of spiritual destructive play, but it is dangerous to linger there. Just as the two-year-old who knocks down his sister’s block tower eventually begins building towers of his own, so a maturing Christian must eventually put his own hand to the plow.
Over the past few months, two individuals brought theological concerns to pastoral leadership. Their concerns were different, but the contrast in their posture was instructive.
One individual raised a theological concern while remaining largely disconnected from the life of the church. He was not meaningfully involved in community nor was he serving. We listened to the podcasts and watched the videos he provided, met with him, prayed together, and suggested additional resources that offered a countervailing perspective. We respected his convictions, but believed the matter fell within the category of conscience. He declined to read the resources we recommended and did not believe the issue should be treated as a matter of conscience. As a result, trust was frayed.
Another individual raised different theological concerns while already faithfully serving and living in community. He also shared resources that supported his concerns. We prayed together, read from individuals who supported our church’s convictions on the matter, and discussed those issues in good faith. He did not change his mind, and neither did we. But he recognized that it was a matter of conscience, and he continued to serve every bit as faithfully and remain in community. Our relationship was strengthened, and my trust and esteem for him grew as I watched him navigate disagreement with wisdom, grace, and humility.
That is the difference between merely critiquing and building.
It is easy to tear down. It is hard to build. Christians are called to the challenging but rewarding task of building. Let us put away destructive play. Let us become constructive members of Christ’s body, using our words, gifts, convictions, and courage to build up the church for the glory of God and his kingdom.
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Photo by Fabian Centeno on Unsplash