Adapted, with copy right permission, from the book, The Insanity of Obedience by Nik Ripken

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HERE to read the introduction

HERE to read Lie #1

HERE to read LIE #2

HERE to read Lie #3

I’m certain the pastor meant well, but it didn’t make it less awkward.  My husband Troy and I were sitting in the congregation, feeling our cheeks burn hot with embarrassment as the pastor preached on poverty being a curse. The most awkward part came when he mentioned the “people of the Shangri-La Trailer Park”  being in great need of deliverance from the spirit of poverty. 

That was where we lived, Trailer #16. We were a young couple just getting on our feet, with two small kids and one on the way. Troy worked a couple of jobs, and I worked evenings as well. We earned enough to pay the bills and sometimes not even that. We loved our trailer, and we were grateful for the pieced-together vehicles we owned that got us back and forth to work each day. By many standards, I suppose you could say we were poor, but we definitely were not cursed.

The pastor finished his sermon by passing the plate for the congregation to contribute to purchasing turkeys which would be handed out door to door at Shangri-la for the community outreach program of the church. We let the plate pass by us without contribution, and we couldn’t get out the front door fast enough after service. 

That same night we invited neighbors over for a dinner around our table. We leaned into conversation and stayed up later than we should. These neighbors were struggling with big issues like addiction, divorce, and abuse. They needed friends who could be there with them for the long haul.  

Looking back, of all the training we could have or should have taken before the mission field, this real-life learning was what may have shaped our view of missions more than anything else. People need to be known in their environment, the place where they feel the safest, the most in control.

The pastor was not alone in his unintentional disconnection from his own community. One particular denomination did a survey on its leadership ministries. The results are as follows:

It would seem that going across the tracks to a different part of your own town may be just as uncomfortable as traveling across the ocean to another nation. In some cases, it may be even harder. It would appear that a simpler solution for many of us is to invite “those people” to church through a flyer or through a turkey. 

Author Nik Ripen addresses this problem in the 4th Lie that prevents us from going across the street or across the world. 

The problem with this 4th lie is that statistically, we aren’t ever going to get to the Nations because we are not actually evangelizing our communities. As Nik Ripken writes, “This is, perhaps, exactly the point.”

Nik continues,

“Human beings are naturally drawn to 'our own people.' But God seeks to transform what is 'natural' to us into what is more in line with His character and heart.”

The pastor lived in the posh part of our town. He had one of the bigger homes, and his lawn was always immaculate. He did invite us over once for dinner, and it was a beautiful home. We could tell by the questions he asked that he wanted us to “move up” as soon as possible. He was helpful, instrumental in getting Troy a better-paying job, and he genuinely cared. However, he was segregated from a class of people who truly needed Jesus and were likely not ever going to attend church in his building.

Now it’s time to tell on myself. Four years after the mission field, I’m startled to find I’ve grown disgustingly comfortable with “my people.” 

I work in ministry. 

Most of “my people” are already Believers in Jesus. Ministry may be the trickiest form of anti-evangelism out there. In a sense, you become trapped in the church building with programs relating to those who come to the church. Before you know it, you simply are not “going” at all. 

Full disclosure: 

Not long ago, I attended a party with the majority of those present being non-believers. Some were drunk, some were loud. The conversation was boring to me. It was centered around drinking, tattoos, and motorcycles. One woman was fighting with her husband in front of everyone. I was, “happy to leave before it got too crazy”.  I heard myself saying this to Troy as we pulled away... and it freaked me out. 

How on earth did that happen to me so quickly? After years of missionary work among the most unreached, one would think I would have become conditioned to crave social interactions where I could be a living introduction to the overwhelming love of God for the sinner.  But nope. Instead, I was annoyed. I felt better than them, which makes me the greater of the sinner.

I felt the shame of my disconnect and the ease at which I longed to be segregated from a people I couldn’t relate to. 

I repented. 

Nik continues:

Do we honestly believe that Jesus intends for the church to finish the task of Jerusalem before venturing into Judea? Do we honestly believe that Jesus intends for us to send teams into Samaria while ignoring the Samaritans living in our own neighborhoods? Do we honestly believe that working hard in Jerusalem sets us free from the responsibility to care about and even go to the ends of the earth? Going just to “our people” and deciding for ourselves just how far God would have us go is the very antithesis of the good news and it is contrary to the nature of Christ.

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