Parable Church

How the Teachings of Jesus Shape the Culture of Our Faith

Mike Burnette, John Driver

• Publisher: Zondervan
• Year: 2021
• ISBN:
  9780310113027
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Christian Church

Unpacks unique insights from Jesus' parables that can help us understand and experience the full, transformative life in community we are divinely intended to live.

Christ never actually told us how to "do church." Yes, he had a lot to say about the church, but what he did say was mostly unrelated to stylistic issues or contextual trends. He never spoke about its leadership hierarchies or the pros and cons of denominational fellowships or the types of music. And yet, much of our time and energy as leaders and shepherds is consumed by chasing after tips, tricks, and secrets to "grow" churches.

While we've tended to focus on church growth through strategies, programs, and metric-based insights, Christ always focused on the heart and the values of the Father, the values that actually change lives and increase the spiritual health of his people.

By digging deeply into three important parables:

• The Parable of the Two Sons
• The Parable of the Sower
• The Parable of the Talents

Parable Church weaves together personal narratives, unique cultural observations, and compellingly fresh biblical insights to paint a picture of something unimaginably greater than what most people think of when they think of Jesus' Church.

Although Jesus never gave us directions for church, he did, through his parables, reveal what we should experience in our communities together--he revealed the culture of his kingdom.

CHAPTER 1

JESUS SAID WHAT?

Jesus never told us how to “do church.”

Believe me, I often wish he would have. That would have made my life—and probably yours too—so much easier. But he didn’t.¹

Just so we can get acquainted, I’m a pastor of a growing church, but that is not at all what I set out to do. I didn’t really grow up in church, if you know what I mean. I became a follower of Jesus on Halloween in my senior year of high school. I attended one church in high school and another in college, and then I became a staff member at the second church.

At the time, I was 6 feet, 6 inches tall and 260 pounds. You might guess that I spent most of my time on the football field or basketball court. You would be mistaken. I never was a linebacker; instead I stood on the back line of the choir. I went to the University of Tennessee on a full music scholarship and had every intention of becoming a professional opera singer. Yes, you read that right.

I had no interest in pursuing a career in ministry, but my pastor saw something in this misfit that I definitely couldn’t see in myself, and he invited me to join his staff, promising to teach me how to “do church.” It was an unassuming and auspicious start, to say the least, and I had a very steep learning curve.

I went from performing Puccini to preaching Paul’s epistles —not exactly an easy transition or the start to the world’s most impressive bio. But today I’ve been in full-time ministry for more than two decades, and I now feel more comfortable reading Dietrich Bonhoeffer than singing Johannes Brahms’s Lieder. (Pardon my nerdy musical references. I can tell you’re excited for what lies ahead.)

It is now probably evident that when I started in ministry, I didn’t know anything at all about “doing church.” And I’m not the only one. From guys like me to biblical scholars, many of us feel this way. The topic of how to do church is important, but it’s crazy that most of our conversations in and about the modern church are consumed by things that Jesus never directly addressed.

• Is the pastor a solid communicator who can be both funny and profound, with a hint of edginess?

• Is the worship team talented and able to choose relevant songs that people will like?

• Is there a vibrant children’s ministry that will keep kids excited, engaged, and out of their parents’ hair for at least an hour? Which reminds me, should a service ever be shorter than an hour?

• And should the pastor wear a three-piece suit, or should he rock skinny jeans?

Some of these may seem more trivial than others. I don’t intend to downplay—or even address—issues like these in this book. Jesus had much to say about the church, but when we dive a little deeper, we will find that these statements were mostly unrelated to stylistic issues or contextual trends. He didn’t say much of anything about many of the topics that fill our blogs and libraries today. He didn’t address church leadership hierarchies, local governmental and constitutional structures, elder development and placement, the pros and cons of denominational fellowships, deacon committees, long-term organizational guidelines for distributing food and resources to the poor and hungry, what level of seminary education is necessary (or at least wise) for pastoral qualification, what version of the Bible should be used, or whether it’s okay to use saltine crackers instead of real loaves of unleavened bread for Communion.

Jesus’ disciples and the early church leaders who served with and after them addressed some of these issues, but Jesus himself did not. Honestly, much of their writing on the subject was contextual and descriptive, not necessarily prescriptive. We debate these distinctions to this day. But Jesus? He did not debate them at all.

Obviously, he said a lot though. He dealt with his people’s hearts—with the culture of his kingdom he wanted beating within those hearts. He spoke about grace, generosity, inclusivity, mercy, salvation. And he spoke a lot about what it means to belong to his kingdom. He emphatically said he would build his church; he just didn’t say much about how those of us who labor with him are supposed to do it—at least not in the ways we might hope for or expect.

If we juxtapose Jesus’ silence on this topic with the fact that we are constantly asking questions and seeking advice on how to do church, what can we conclude? Perhaps that we inadvertently separate the ways we do church from the words of Jesus because we have so much to do and worry about that Jesus never directly addressed in the Gospels.

I invite you to approach the idea of church differently, not just in the ways we “do church”—how we accomplish our weekly practices and services—but in a way that is much simpler and more applicable, unique, and kingdom accomplishable. You see, Jesus may not have told us how to do church, but through his teachings—and, more specifically, his parables—he shows us how to be his church. He reveals how his church can and should reflect the culture of the kingdom of heaven.

Every kingdom has its own culture: England, Zulu, Apple, Microsoft, and even your grandma’s house. Each of these “kingdoms” has a unique environment, language, vibe, DNA, value system, and the like. Being in these places means experiencing these cultures. Likewise, the kingdom of heaven has a culture, and this culture is what Jesus continues to unveil through his parables. They show us what the kingdom of heaven feels like—and thus what the culture of our churches should feel like.

And when I use the phrase “feel like” in relation to this culture, I’m not talking about the smells or colors of the rooms, the touchy-feely emotions, or even the attempts to create certain atmospheres with smoke and lighting designed for those who attend our services. This is not that kind of feeling. After all, rightly being God’s church won’t always “feel” easy or comfortable. It can be downright hard.

I am referring to the general vibe that someone experiences when they come into contact with the Lord’s church, a sense of heavenly encounter that people should gain when they are around Jesus’ people, mainly because Jesus’ people have actually been hanging out with Jesus and emulating him.

This brings us back to Jesus’ words, or the lack thereof. Above all other techniques, Jesus chose parables as his communication method of choice. It was almost as if he knew we would be prone to create stringent, boxy, legalistic checklists out of whatever he said, regardless of what he meant. If Jesus told us to sing two hymns at every church service (which is a fine thing to do if you like to), we would tar and feather anyone who dared to sing one hymn or three hymns. We would spend our time policing the number of songs instead of actually singing them with passion and purpose.

In all my years of studying, visiting people, or providing leadership in church, I’ve seen many traditions that are upheld and lauded. In the liturgical or high church setting, there are sacred moments or elements, like the tradition of carrying out the preaching Bible, escorting the pastor to the pulpit, and bowing down to the remaining elements of the Eucharist after Mass. In some evangelical or Pentecostal circles, we see a focus on “feeling God move”—keeping up with how many times someone falls backward or speaks in tongues in a worship service—or whether the preacher “really preached,” which gauges how emotional, boisterous, or loud he was and whether he portrayed a certain sense of honor that resulted in the maintaining of distance from pastors or leaders. Without commentary on any of these ecclesiastical choices, none of them are actually discussed by Jesus as a part of “building his church,” and yet they have become focal points for the way we have come to “do church.”

We tend to lean toward the technicalities of church rather than the disposition of the One who breathed it into existence. In other words, we tend to legalize. Through the parables, Jesus chose instead to conceptualize, to throw us off the scent of our endless checklists while still leaving us completely immersed in the aroma of his kingdom.

The parables are abstract enough to keep us from making them into laws but clear enough to help us understand what matters to God. Jesus talked about lost things. He talked about hurting people. He talked about the condition of people’s hearts. He talked about the gifts and expectations of divine stewardship. He talked about radical forgiveness that resulted in parties for those who dare to come home to the open arms of the Father who is always watching the horizon, willing to sprint toward any once-was-lost child.

I invite you to be God’s church in a way that reflects these and many other cultural values of Christ’s kingdom, the things that matter to God. Because one of the most significant things about being God’s church is that everything important to him becomes important to us as well.

Also, if you are reading through these pages with me, then you probably fall into one of two categories: a church leader or staff member, or a Christian who attends church and desires to see her become all that God intends her to be. Whichever you are, please know that I’m writing this for you—both of you. I am a pastor and will often talk to pastors, mainly because many of my stories come out of that context. However, I’m also writing this to the people whom I pastor—and to you.

Sometimes I will be writing specifically to leaders, and sometimes I will be writing to everyone (and I’ll usually tell you when I switch between the two). However, these stories and principles are usually not leader- or member-specific—that is to say, they are for all of us, regardless of our role in God’s church. And we all have a role, as we will soon discover. Even if it seems I’m only speaking to pastors in some sections, it will be extremely helpful for everyone to pay attention to what Jesus is teaching us through his parables. A huge problem in the church today is the dichotomy that exists between leaders and members, as if their missions are somehow different. Yes, some may “do church” as a career, but “being the church” is the privilege and responsibility of every believer—which is why Jesus was speaking to all of us through the parables, as does this book.

Jesus used stories that were effectively illustrative—some perhaps made up on the spot and others reflecting events that actually happened—in order to prove his points. If you will indulge me, let me begin to prove my point by telling you the first of a few true stories.

THE REAL JESUS

Where you do life reveals a lot about what you do with that life.

I do life in one of the fastest growing cities you’ve probably never heard of: Clarksville, Tennessee. Of course, you may know of it if you happen to be a closet fan of the old 1960s band The Monkees and their hit “Last Train to Clarksville.” I am not a huge fan of the song, but I am a huge fan of our city—and especially of the people who live here. Among other things, Clarksville is a military town, nestled on the banks of the Cumberland River just across the Kentucky line and the Fort Campbell army post, where the famed 101st Airborne is located. As you might imagine, many soldiers and their families find their way to our church.

That’s how I first met Blane.

Blane was not your average soldier. He was a decorated combat medic who had been trained and considered for many unique missions. (Who knows how many death-defying experiences he actually participated in while on active duty?) Blane was a hero in every sense of the word.

This elite level of training and toughness also made Blane a little, well, tough. He was covered in tattoos—full sleeves on both arms. His concept of “church people” like me wasn’t exactly positive. He had grown up in an environment that taught him to expect a nun’s high-velocity ruler to crack down on his knuckles when he got out of line.² What should have fed and softened his heart had starved and hardened it instead.

It’s not surprising that Blane became highly competitive, always attempting to outdo everyone around him in everything imaginable. He wanted to drink more. Fight more. Get more girls’ numbers. Blane became a master sergeant of one-upmanship.

Then one day, one of his military buddies he was always trying to one-up became a Christ follower, and Blane encountered the first thing in life in which he had no desire to outdo the next guy. No, he wanted to stay far away from what he considered a ridiculous religious game his friend was now playing.

Even so, Blane’s comrade was relentless, constantly inviting him to experience what was happening to the people who gathered at his church. But Blane repeatedly insisted he was having none of it. He had a lot of his own commentary about church, specifically that churches were full of hypocrites who would judge him for his tattoos and lifestyle, only wanted his money, wanted to convert his politics to the “right” side, and didn’t like sinners. He was no idiot; their only goal was to convert him, and he could see right through their ruse.

This went on for some time. Blane dug his heels in the ground, but his friend was insistent: “Man, this church just feels different. They love people like you and me. This is not what you expect.”

The day finally came when Blane caved and showed up—by himself. He got out of his car and immediately rolled his sleeves all the way down to his wrists to cover his tattoos, buttoning his sleeves for good measure. As he walked across the parking lot, he began to sweat (and not because of the heat). He waited for someone to mouth off to him about his appearance. To this day, I’m grateful no one did; Blane was an avid fighter, and sometimes he would go to bars and pick fights just to stay sharp with his combat skills. This callous warrior—someone many churches would never expect to show up—approached the front door of the one place in the world he had sworn he would never go.

But standing in the lobby was a man named Larry who actually was expecting him—or at least someone like him. Larry, who goes by “Pop,” is a retired Navy command master chief. He is no stranger to military toughness, but his heart was divinely softened and rewired many years ago to love and connect with people in a unique way. Pop was greeting people as they walked into the lobby that day, so he was the first person Blane met—and let me tell you, Pop was not who Blane expected to meet.

“Hello, young man! My name’s Pop. What’s yours?”

“I’m Blane,” he mumbled suspiciously.

Pop reached out to shake his hand but then unexpectedly pulled him in for a hug. They were two battle-tested warriors who had just met, hugging each other in the lobby of a church. Nothing to see here.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Blane!”

His sleeves were still buttoned down tight, but something deep inside Blane was beginning to loosen.

I was starting a new message series that day about Christians and the church. No doubt, Blane expected me to defend all the things he hated about church, but that’s not exactly what happened. Instead, quoting several books and other research on the subject, I admitted that the church in America seems to have lost its prophetic edge.³ We’ve decimated our witness and influence with the world outside our walls because we’ve become more well known for hypocrisy and judgmentalism inside our walls. Here’s how many people perceive the church: we’re all Republicans; w...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Foreword
• 1. Jesus Said What?
• Part 1: The Parable of the Two Sons
• Part 2: The Parable of the Sower
• Part 3: The Parable of the Talents
• Acknowledgments
• Notes