Welcome to Part 13 of the weekly release of my book, Unless God Builds It: A Proposal to Radically Rethink the Church.
In the last post, we began Chapter 4 by looking at how the word submission has been misused as a tool for top-down control. We explored why true biblical submission is actually an active form of service that requires us to speak up, and how we must be willing to let our spiritual insights be collectively weighed and tested by the body.
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In this post, I share the story of our first house-church multiplication, and we walk through how a Spirit-led church handles moments that go “off the rails”—showing why the Holy Spirit is our only true guardrail for maintaining order.
Making Church Decisions Together
Let’s start with a common question that I hear related to operating a house church: How do you know when to multiply?
In all my years of reading books about small-group ministry and consulting the gurus, and still now as I come across other house-church networks, I have found that almost everyone has some specific method they subscribe to. For some, it’s about numbers—e.g., “Once your group hits twenty people, it’s too big; time to multiply.” For others, it’s about time—e.g., “A group should never be together longer than two years.” And yet others take the position that, ideally, a group would be together for a lifetime—hence the term “life group” (though for some it just implies that they’re ”doing life” together).
Having the same people forever is obviously not an option for a house church, since it’s not merely a small group; it’s a church. And we all know that a church is supposed to grow. It has to have open doors, a heart for newcomers, and an eye for multiplication, or else it’s seriously unhealthy.
But the first two mindsets have a serious issue, as well. Yes, they desire to multiply—that’s good. They don’t want groups to grow inward, complacent, and stagnant—also good. But the way they go about this is not spiritual.
While we can agree with the intent, don’t you see the problem? The rule has replaced the Ruler. The principle has replaced the Prince. To teach people to live by these guidelines is necessarily to teach them not to rely on the Spirit, to disregard God’s voice in these matters. Not to mention, it assumes that the natural inclination of a Christian community is introversion, when actually, it’s not. The desire for growth is within all of us; we received it when we received the Holy Spirit. And it will be manifest, inevitably, as we look to the Spirit in all things. Yes, everything we desire—in this case, healthy multiplication—is actually better accomplished by training people to rely on the Spirit organically.
For our first four years as a house church, we ebbed and flowed between as few as eight people and as many as thirty-five. At multiple junctures, our living room was bursting at the seams, and I was sure that multiplication was right around the corner.
However, for various reasons—church discipline, people moving away, some feeling led to a different church, etc.—our large group would become small again, seemingly overnight. Had we lived by a man-made rule and multiplied at some predetermined “magic” number, it would have been premature and caused a lot of unnecessary difficulty.
At one point, as the Lord was adding more numbers to our flock, it was clear that we had outgrown my living room. As a church, we prayed about whether it was time to open up a second home, and no one had the confidence that it was. Instead, we agreed to start meeting in a building owned by a local non-profit organization, which offered us the space for free.
I can tell you, as someone who has no desire to go “back into the building,” this was unconventional for me. Outwardly, it may have appeared like we were abandoning our house-church roots and heading in the direction of most traditional churches. (We certainly wouldn’t be the first group of Christians to do so.) But inwardly, I knew that this wasn’t what we were doing, nor was it entirely my decision, anyway. Some others had the same concern, but God reassured us all that as long as we kept being sensitive to his leading, we had nothing to worry about; we would know when the right time was to multiply.
Sure enough, with over thirty people, we met in that building for about six months, continuing to have an open meeting as I described in the last chapter. As the group became bigger, there were some drawbacks. People who were already not inclined to actively participate were even less inclined to do so, and it lacked the laid-back, intimate, living-room vibe that we had all grown to love. But still, no one felt strongly enough to bring multiplication into the conversation.
Then, one morning—I don’t quite know how to explain it—I woke up with the faith that it was time for us to multiply.
But let me tell you what I didn’t do. I didn’t say, “Guys, it’s time to multiply.” I didn’t lay out a timeline and appoint the next leaders. Instead, I simply brought my discernment to the table and let the others weigh it. Exactly as I told you, I told them: “Hey guys, I don’t quite know how to explain it, but I woke up this morning with faith that it’s time for us to start seriously praying about multiplying. Can we pray about this together right now?”
As we did, it sparked quite a bit of conversation and a bit more prayer, too. We agreed that God hadn’t given us clarity yet, that we’d continue to pray about it, and, if anyone felt stirred one way or another, they’d say so.
As we gathered over the next couple of months, I continued having the confidence that we were supposed to seek his direction in this, so I continued simply stewarding that faith by bringing it up each week. As we discussed multiplication, there were many teaching opportunities, lots of great questions, various ideas entertained, and lots of other wonderful gifts—each time giving us the sense that we were a little bit closer to making a decision.
Finally—and I’m only speaking for myself—I became confident enough in the Lord’s leading to propose a specific date for multiplication and a specific couple to host the new house church. (Anyone could have proposed this, by the way. It’s not like it had to be me because I was the leader; I just happened to be the first person confident enough to bring it up.) We all prayed about it and, with consensus, agreed to move forward with that plan. In other words, “it… seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us” (Acts 15:28).
For the record, it isn’t that no one had concerns or that everyone was totally confident that this was God’s leading—not even me. In humility, all admitted that we didn’t know the answer beyond a shadow of a doubt. But we aren’t called to walk by perfect knowledge; we are called to walk by faith. And faith isn’t knowing; it’s believing.
This faith is something that can be swayed, by the way, which is what often happens when we submit ourselves to one another. Let’s say, for some particular reason, you believe strongly that it isn’t time to multiply yet. If you keep your mouth shut (in the name of “submission”), you may continue believing it even as you begrudgingly agree to move forward. It’s your responsibility, however, if you feel that it’s from the Holy Spirit, to submit your belief to the group, that they might weigh it.
In the process of sharing and submitting your thoughts, you may find that someone addresses your concerns, and you feel a little less strongly about your position. As you hear more and more people agree with the other person and disagree with you—especially people you trust, who you know are wise, who love the Lord, who love you—you may find it harder and harder to maintain your position. Your confidence in it is rightfully tested by the fire of fellowship, as you consider the very possible fact that the saints around you, who also have the Holy Spirit, are hearing/speaking from God. This is what it looks like to “[c]lothe yourselves… with humility toward one another” (1 Peter 5:5). “Or was it from you that the word of God came? Or are you the only ones it has reached” (1 Corinthians 14:36)?
So then (back to the story), having weighed many different options with God and each other, we simply believed the Spirit was leading us to multiply as I had suggested. At the very least, there was no one left who felt strongly enough to dissent, and those who may have been less sure were willing to ride on the confidence of others. We could then proceed in unity, thanking the Lord for his guidance, and all the more so in light of our collective discernment.
Do you see how much better this is than me, the leader, making that decision myself? Do you see how much opportunity it created for learning, prayer, submission, and unity? And how grateful I am that I didn’t have to bear the weight of that decision alone, relying on my own imperfect discernment. If, for some reason, we learned later that it wasn’t the best decision, that maybe we heard God incorrectly, no one could blame me any more than they’d have to blame themselves! Not that we’re in the blame business, anyway, but you get the point. By functioning this way, everyone has to shoulder the responsibility for the direction the church goes, and everyone (not just the leaders) gets to learn from their mistakes.
As for mistakes, you may wonder, “What if we hear God wrong?” And to that, I simply remind you that God is much bigger than our mistakes. The paralyzing fear of getting it wrong is nothing other than a lack of faith in God—something that took me years to learn. If our discernment isn’t correct, yet we walked by faith, the worst-case scenario is that we will hear from him later, and he’ll use it as a lesson. He’s not looking for perfect discernment; he’s looking for faith. And with that, we can know that he is well pleased!
When we started the house church, I had no idea it would take over four years to multiply for the first time. I thought that in six months we’d have three or four healthy churches that were ready to send me off to repeat elsewhere. Yet here we are, six years later, with five churches that aren’t quite ready for me to leave yet! But I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ve learned so much as a result of the path that God has placed us on, and God continues proving to me that his way is always better.
This, of course, is just one example among countless others that demonstrates what it looks like to let God build your church through submission to one another. God alone knows when the best time is for your group to multiply. He alone has the wisdom for every kind of decision your church may face. He alone understands the unique makeup of people and circumstances that you’re dealing with, as well as the effect that any decision would have. And if you really want to know what he thinks about it (or whether it’s even something he’s currently thinking about), don’t just ask him yourself. Take it to the church, inviting every ear to listen and every mouth to speak, with confidence that if each individual stewards the grace that is within them, the will of God will become manifest in your midst.
The Spirit is the Guardrail
One of the most common concerns that people have with a radically Spirit-led, non-institutional, and decentralized approach to building the Church is: How do you keep it from going off the rails? If you’re wondering what they mean, it’s things like this: If people who haven’t been to seminary are allowed to teach, then how do we prevent false teaching? Or, If “anything goes” in the gathering, how do we avoid things getting super weird and dysfunctional?
For what it’s worth, these concerns aren’t without some validity; they often come from experience (or at least awareness) of churches that have entered some highly questionable or downright condemnable territory in both beliefs and practices, all under the guise of “there’s freedom in the Spirit,” or “God told me to,” or “I had a vision.” Unfortunately, countless real-life examples of this sort of disorder could be provided here, but I don’t suspect that it’s needed.
However, before addressing these concerns head-on, I would first like to offer a challenge in the opposite direction: If only people who have been to seminary are allowed to teach, how do you prevent false teaching? I honestly don’t see an obvious correlation between the two, historically. Even if the gathering is meticulously planned and prepared for, and only a few individuals are allowed to speak, how do you avoid things getting super weird and dysfunctional? Surely there’s an argument to be made that what has become “normal” and “functional” is merely a cultural contagion that has blinded us to God’s original vision for his church. More likely than not, the earliest Christians would regard today’s church meetings as an aberration.
So, to those who find confidence in the more traditional approach to building the Church (i.e., institutional, centralized, method-based, etc.), I ask you, how do you keep it from going off the rails? If we’re looking at the same road, I think you’re already in the ditch on the other side, across from the ditch you’re worried about falling into. Safe, tidy, buttoned-up, well-oiled, contained, and controlled.
Most of the Church, I believe, is operating to some extent in one of these two ditches—one emphasizing “order” and the other emphasizing “Spirit.” If order means “control” and Spirit means “a lack of control,” then they’ve labeled themselves appropriately. However, the truth is, each ditch lacks both Spirit and order. These ingredients can be found on God’s path alone, where the Holy Spirit is the only guardrail, maintaining God’s idea of order in his Church.
Another way of saying this would be to say that if every member in a church were accurately perceiving what God was saying and doing, and only participating in the ways that God was leading/empowering them to do so, there would be maximum order. There would be no false teaching or prophesying, no dysfunctional behavior, no unhelpful remarks, no confusion, etc. Maximum Spirit equals maximum order. “For God is not a God of confusion but of peace” (1 Corinthians 14:33).
At least in principle, I don’t know why any honest and sensible Christian would disagree with this—that is, that dependence on the Spirit is actually what should bring order.
But all is well until Joe takes his shirt off.
Seriously, though, let’s imagine that Joe takes his shirt off in the middle of an open meeting while everyone is singing and praising God. If this seems to you like something that could never happen, then you probably haven’t spent much time in the “hyper-charismatic” Christian circles. At any rate, the extreme example is good for a quick lesson here, as long as we can have a sense of humor.
Before dismissing our friend Joe as a helpless lunatic, or worse, Satan’s offspring, I’d like to encourage you to extend love and compassion his way. He may be terribly unwise and woefully immature, but he believes with his whole heart that Christ is Lord, and he ultimately desires God just like you. Moreover, God has put him in your midst, so you have some responsibility for him. He is your family (whether you are happy about that or not).
As it turns out, what got Joe so excited was a scripture he had read. He was reading and reflecting all week about how David danced naked before the Lord, and so—you can connect the dots.
Now, if you yourself are also immature—i.e., if you haven’t learned the way of love, the way of the Spirit—then you will probably either leave that church or remain silent and uncomfortable. Either of these options may seem submissive, but they’re actually just quiet defiance and hidden divisiveness. Then, you can imagine, because of this poor experience, you’ll conclude that you don’t prefer to give the Spirit full control. But the truth is, you never actually did give him full control because you didn’t let him control you. Because you failed to steward the gifts in you, that church (including Joe) will never get their needs met for this healthy correction. They will continue in dysfunction, only to keep turning people away and giving Christ a bad name, perpetuating the myth that we can’t really trust God to lead his people.
Remember, submission requires service. In this theoretical scenario, you are confident that seeing Joe’s belly button was not part of God’s plan today. In all humility, knowing that you don’t have perfect discernment in all things, you do believe that you’re discerning correctly here. If you’re correct, then by definition, you have a spiritual gift that is fit for the occasion. We may call it wisdom; we may call it “the discerning of spirits”; we may call it a number of things. What we call it is not particularly important. What matters is that it’s true, it’s from God, and he has given it to you to give to the church.
It is not fair to expect others to have that gift—as obvious as it may seem to you—for how can they get it if you won’t share it? Has not God placed you in the Body for this very reason? Therefore, to submit to your brothers in Christ in this scenario is, first, to serve with this gift.
Speak up. It could be something as simple as this: “Hey Joe, I don’t think it’s appropriate to be doing that in this setting.” I want to be careful not to put words in your mouth because I actually believe the Lord is better at that than I am. What’s important is that you steward the grace within you to the best of your ability for the sake of love (for Joe and the whole church).
Maybe to reinforce your stance, God puts a scripture on your heart about love and building each other up. And perhaps, in response, someone says to you, “You’re being religious; Joe is just letting the Spirit lead.” But you respond by insisting that you, also, are letting the Spirit lead you. And since the Spirit leading you and the spirit leading Joe are at odds, either one or both of you are wrong.
Therefore, you ask the church to weigh what is being said and done, initiating a prayer for God to help with discernment. In doing so, you fulfill the other end of submission, honoring the whole body’s authority to evaluate your position, speak into it, and offer correction.
Of course, this could go many ways, but I would expect, in most cases, the church to quickly agree with you, as well as for Joe to realize he was wrong, to apologize, and to submit to the church’s discernment. In the worst-case scenario, you may find that you cannot reach agreement, in which case there are likely some deeper issues to be addressed—still through submission to God and one another. But we cannot explore every possibility here. The example was simply to convey how letting the Spirit lead works to establish and maintain order in the assembly. It hinges on submission.
You can take this simple example and apply it to an infinite number of scenarios, even to something as simple as a teaching that you disagree with, an untimely comment, or a conversation that rambles on for far too long. It’s not to say that it won’t be messy. As long as there’s immaturity in the Church (and there always will be if we’re growing), there will be people with poor theology, making mistakes, failing to love, and wrongly discerning what God is doing. Just don’t forget, you’ll be one of them sometimes!
As a final word here, I’d like to point out something. Some of you may be familiar with a common framework for weighing the truth, which consists of four components: Scripture, Tradition, Reason, and Experience. Each of these is to be considered as having a certain degree of weight/authority in determining whether something is true or beneficial. It’s not a bad framework, given that a lot of things fit nicely within one of these categories. However, I find that people often incorrectly equate Spirit exclusively with the last of those categories, that is, experience. This category is arguably the least trustworthy (or at least, the most subjective) of them all, which is why some people distrust letting the Spirit lead.
But the Spirit is the authority in all of these categories. In the gathering of the saints, when someone reads and/or expounds upon Scripture, we shouldn’t view that as something other than the Spirit’s leading, or something other than charismatic activity. If it is done apart from the Spirit, then ideally, it would be weighed and judged as unhelpful. But otherwise, it’s indeed a wonderful expression of the Spirit. If someone brings up historical church practices or theology (i.e., Tradition), it isn’t necessarily unspiritual. The Spirit could absolutely reveal the wisdom behind the beliefs and practices of the saints throughout time as a way of building up the saints today. The same goes for Reason, and the same for Experience. The Spirit can inspire each, but also, each can be devoid of the Spirit. Therefore, it’s everyone’s job to help discern whether what is being said/done is from the Spirit, being careful not to box the Spirit into one particular kind of activity.
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Questions for the Comments:
When your church makes major decisions, is the process centralized behind closed doors, or is the entire congregation invited to pray and weigh it together?
How does the "Joe shirt-off" example illustrate the difference between top-down human control and the Holy Spirit as the only guardrail for order? How should maturity handle disorder in a Spirit-led community?
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In Christ,
Jake