It may be the facts, but it’s not the truth.

There’s lot of chat on the interwebs about Millennials leaving the Church and statistics supporting the claims. [And any time the words Millennials and leaving and Church are strung together, we have the Pajama Mujahedin come out of dark corners of their mother’s basement tear down proposing suppositions.] I have read numerous reports and facts claiming the demise of American Christianity and the decline of Evangelicalism in North America. Though the facts may be correct, it’s not the truth.

Friends, current reality does not determine our future. Just because our reality may place us against all hope of a prosperous future, that doesn’t mean it can’t exist.

I know the percentages of churches in decline, I’ve studied the waning participation and commitment to church membership, and I’ve read the facts about statisitcal data placing American as the upcoming Sodom and Gomorrah [insert thunder and lightening here]. So how can I still hold on to the hope of the Church? Because I’ve seen the truth. Or shall I get Lacanian and say, Truth? Yes, Truth with a capital T.

The Man who proclaimed to be the Way, the Truth, and Light is making a way, through truth, to shed light in dark places. To say Christianity for my generation is empty beliefs and plithy commitment is an affront to the people I teach, preach to, speak with, and mentor.  To say the Church is hopeless in it’s attempt to connect with my generation doesn’t dissuade me from trying, it inspires me to reach up [to God], reach out [to the disenfranchised], and reach in [to those hurting in the Church].

Last night around a large table in an Italian restaurant my coworkers sat around a table with our interns to celebrate a successful completion of our internship program. We made fun of each other, we laughed, we ate, and I gawked over how handsome Juan Pablo is and how God answered my prayers to make him the new Bachelor [“the prayer of a righteous woman availeth much!” –BIV version]. As we passed out gag-gifts and awards, the night concluded with affirmation for each of our interns.

There—in the Buca di Peppo’s Romance banquet room replete with half naked Renaissance statues and vintage pictures of Italian icons—the Holy Spirit breathed life onto us in a way that I can’t explain it. It was palatable. And if you think I’m delusional or Pentecostal or a Charismatic, I will disappoint you and say I am neither of those. I’m a girl who witnessed the very presence of God reveal Himself to a room of women and men, Baptists and Pentecostals, conservatives and liberals in a way that shocked us all. Those who theologically believe the supernatural gifts of God ceased after Pentecost had a come-to-Jesus-moment of belief. Not conversion to a denomination or theological camp, but a Damacus road experience where the spiritual scales of our eyes fell off to behold the very presence of our Savior.

[Do I sound crazy? Dear God, I do! I know I do! This proves my husband right! But who cares?!]

If this crop of interns is a slice of the demographic of this generation, I believe. I believe change is coming. I believe their voice will carry. I believe their convictions will tarry. I believe the width, the breath, and the depth of their theological differences will not separate or alienate them from one another but collaboratively strengthen the reach of our commission to be the hands and feet of our Lord and Savior.

Internet, I am nothing more than a voice crying out to the interwebs begging you not to give up on my generation. We are a people of HOPE! [Sixty-four percent of my generation voted for President Obama on this very belief, for crying out loud?!] We are a people of change. We are a people who believe that out of ashes, beauty will rise; out of dust, humanity was formed; out of darkness, light will shine.

I feel like Joshua standing at the edge of the Jordan holding onto the words given to him by God Almighty, Be strong and courageous, because you will lead these people to inherit the land I wore to their ancestors to give them. Friends, the Promise Land is ours. We need not need to stay in captivity or wander the desert waiting for a sign. If you’re looking for a sign, THIS IS IT. 

Get ready people, the Church is resurrecting. I can feel it in my bones like an Apache warrior senses rain.

I see a Church that is ours to inherit in the way Joshua saw the Promise Land…

  • I see a Church who accepts the lost, the unloved, the skeptic, the sinner, the saint.
  • I see a Church where the poor and rich value the blessings each possess and share their blessings with others.
  • I see a Church where Black, White, Hispanic, Nomadic, Asian, Haitian, EuroAsian, Croatian, are one nation under God with one mission to fulfill: to love our God and to love our neighbor.
  • I see a Church where the Holy Spirit has freedom to move in ways that are supernatural, yet biblical; shocking, yet expected; sacred, yet common.
  • I see a Church where men, women, young and old, can serve and build the Kingdom no matter their status, gender, education, or training.
  • I see a Church where worship is experiential, honest, humble, empowering, inspiring, and unifying.
  • I see a Church with an allegiance not to a nation or denomination, but to a King who is over all, rules all, and controls all.
  • I see a Church who believes the best is yet to come. Our future is stronger than our past, our history will not determine our legacy, our purpose is yet to be fulfilled.
  • I see a Church who believes in the supremacy of an omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent God who is the first, the last, the beginning and the end.
  • I see a Church with you and me standing knee deep in the facts, yet holding onto Truth.

So call me a prophet or call me crazy, I don’t care. I see a Church that I want to be a part of.  What Church do you see? 

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