Dean Batala, who spent six years as executive producer of That 70s Show, is a Christian, and he’s mad at God. “I’m angry that he has blessed bad art‚Äîeven certain Christian films that have been seen by a lot of people. It makes me angry as an artist, because they’re bad. Just because people go see it, that doesn’t make it good.”

He continued, “This is my frustration: The gospel written on toilet paper still saves lives. There’s power in the gospel.”

Interesting. I remember watching a children’s worker stumble badly through presenting the plan of salvation to a group of children. It was horrible. The guy was clearly nervous and lacking in confidence. And yet, someone important to me responded and became a Christian.

That just shouldn’t happen. If we can’t do something well, God shouldn’t bless it…right?

But God does bless what sometimes seems unworthy. Ministers carrying on secret affairs are still instrumental in changing lives. Missionaries of earlier years have gone overseas with attitudes we would now consider highly unenlightened–colonial, the West-is-Best approach–and still end up transforming thousands of lives. Even I, a scumbag, occasionally influence someone in a positive way.

Large churches look at small churches, with their seeker-insensitivity, lesser programs, uninspiring worship, etc., and wonder how God can bless them. And small churches look at large churches, with what they view as big-show, materialistic, consumer-driven, pop-culture approaches, and wonder how God can bless them.

We all know that God uses imperfect vessels. But is there, as Batali said, “power in the gospel”? The Bible says God’s Word won’t return void, and we’ve applied that in a certain way. Does the same thing hold true for proclaiming the Gospel? Is there truly power, some spiritual magic, in simply declaring the plan of salvation, whether the source is a bad movie, a lousy sermon, or a deficient church?

(The quote I started with comes from a fascinating online article called “Christians as a Niche Market,” which talks about the movie industry and the recent spate of Christian-themed movies.)

I heard a novel church growth idea last weekend. It involves incorporating a bit of Survivor into the church. Every year, the church staff would be allowed to huddle and vote somebody out of the congregation.

Now, wouldn’t that be a great idea? Working at our denominational headquarters, I’ve heard gobs of horror stories over the years about laypersons who are either control freaks or just downright carnal (sometimes both). They hold back their church from flourishing, and frustrate and discourage every pastor who comes along.

My Dad encountered such laypersons in probably every church he pastored (five of them). He was savvy enough to handle them, but young ministers get eaten alive, and sometimes end up leaving the ministry.

I think there have been times when, if it came to a vote, I might have been the one voted out. Dad too, during his layperson days (right, Dad?). With Dad and me, the problem is that we are deeply involved in the church, care deeply, and yearn for the church to prosper. But lots of problem laypersons just want to exert control over what they consider their fiefdom. And in some cases, they are just carnal, unspiritual folks who, in actuality, are controlled by Satan.

I wish the good laypersons in more congregations had the backbone to stand up to these bad laypersons. But we don’t like making waves in the church, and it seems easier to change pastors than to deal with a treacherous layperson. Somehow, the spiritual folks need to step up to the plate. Otherwise, their church ain’t going anywhere.

Pastor Tim wasn’t supposed to preach today. He and Tara were supposed to have their new baby last week, and Tim’s dad, Gerald, was slotted to speak in his place. But the baby, alas, seems in no hurry to greet the world. And so there he was, speaking about pride, one of the Seven Deadly Sins in this “Vice-Busters” series.

He’s been using a Bible figure with each sin, and today he used Joseph–that spoiled kid who thought he was better than his brothers (and was, actually, but that’s beside the point)–to go along with pride. As an aside, Tim pointed out that, if you want good models of family life, the Bible is not the place to go. That’s certainly true. You don’t find healthy families in the Bible, just lots of dysfunction.

Why is that? When God put the Bible together, he was fully aware of what he was leaving out.

We’re big on the family–family time, family values, strengthening the family, protecting the family, etc. We want our churches to be family-oriented, and we constantly stress the need for strong families. We take the gloves off in the political arena to protect our view of the “traditional,” as-God-intended-it family.

You would think the family is a central theme of the Bible. But it’s not. Why is that? Is it okay to ask that? Does God view the family differently than we do? Is our view of the family wrapped up in our culture? Why didn’t God ever chastise those Old Testament heroes for having multiple wives? Did God care, or not? Don’t worry–I’m not headed toward advocating polygamy or gay marriage. I’m just askin’. In sort of a quasi-heretical way.

When Jesus spoke about the family, it was usually about alienating family members and redefining the family as the total body of Christ (“For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother”). The New Testament writers give some basic instructions regarding family roles, parenting, and husband-wife relationships, but not as much attention as they give to church roles.

Why doesn’t the Bible give us examples of good families? “What about Mary and Joseph?” you ask. But for all we know, Joseph, despite his superb start, could have become an alcoholic and committed suicide with a nail gun. We don’t know.

Is there some heavenly paradigm that we’re missing? And could that be the reason so many “good Christian families” go haywire? Are we doing family in a way which seems right to us, but isn’t really what God had in mind? Am I going absolutely nuts?

Okay, I can tell that you’re getting really really mad, so I’ll stop. But…I’m just askin’.

Chris Kuntz, our former worship leader who now leads worship at another United Brethren church here in Fort Wayne, wrote on his blog about the hymn “There is Power in the Blood.” As I voiced in a comment, I tend to shy away from the “blood” hymns as a bit morbid. Consider these:

• “There is a fountain filled with blood drawn from Emmanuel’s veins. And sinners plunged beneath that flow lose all their guilty stain.”
• “What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.”
• “Alas and did my Savior bleed and did my sovereign die.”
• “For Jesus shed His precious blood, rich blessings to bestow. Plunge now into the crimson flood, that washes white as snow.”
• “Down at the cross where my Saviour died, down where for cleansing from sin I cried. There to my heart was the blood applied….”
• “See from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down….”
• “Are you washed in the bood, in the soul-cleansing blood of the Lamb?”
• “What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus….Oh precious is the flow, that makes me white as snow.”

Pretty gruesome, huh?

Today’s contemporary Christian songs talk about how much Christ loves us, and talk about the cross in sort of a shiny symbolic way, but avoid talking about what Jesus actually suffered on our behalf (which the film “The Passion of the Christ” portrays with morbid power).

Chris distilled the simple message of this old hymn with the questions asked at the beginning of each verse:

1. Do you want to be free from the burden or bondage of sin?
2. Do you want to win over evil?
3. Do you want to be so pure that you are whiter than snow?
4. Do you want to serve Jesus by doing His work here on earth?
5. Do you want to live every day praising God and singing to Him?

If your response to any of those questions is “Yes,” then the answer is: “There’s power in the blood.” Not in the spilled blood itself, but in what it made possible–the total transformation of people.

I wonder if, by sheltering our pew-sitters from the reality of what Christ suffered for us, we unintentionally promote a sort of wimpy Gospel. That the Christian life is all about love and hope and peace, not about (potentially) tremendous sacrifice and suffering. We certainly don’t advertise, “If you become a Christian, you may be called to suffer more than you can imagine.” No, we don’t want to scare people away. So we promote the Christian life as happiness and having your needs (and wants) met. And as a result, we get wimpy Christians who buy into the American-dream consumeristic lifestyle, thinking that that’s what Christ intended for us. “I have lots of things. Therefore, God is doing what I signed up for.”

I’m still not anxious to inflict “blood” hymns on Sunday worshipers. But if people want “Yes” answers to those questions posed in “There is Power in the Blood,” I guess we need to point them to the reason they can have “yes” answers.