Why I want to share the Gospel but (mostly) don’t want to invite people to church

By guest contributor Brian F. Marks

Please note: This essay was written by my friend Brian F. Marks. They are not my words, though, per usual, I deeply feel a number of his well-expressed sentiments and add a hearty “amen” to the truths he illuminates. -Kaeley

I’m a part of a great church that is, in many ways, a truly wonderful place. The head pastor is a humble yet bold man who has his proverbial ducks in a row. Alongside other associate pastors, he selflessly leads with integrity and presides over a local body who are great people. He has a Masters degree in theology, a doctorate, speaks three languages, and a unique background from the mission field and other churches.

“I’m prioritizing relational health over numerical growth,” he told me soon after he became the pastor, regarding his approach to leading the church.

When I heard him say that, it was music to my ears, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew then that I could commit to going to this church full-time and call it my home congregation.

You see, in the years prior, I’d been a part of a church for about a decade that I loved but I ultimately felt I had to leave. And it was not an easy realization. There were several reasons I left, but I ultimately departed because the pastor, who was ousted, was exposed as an abuser, and I realized I had been a part of something very unhealthy. It disoriented and devastated me. I was a functional zombie for months.

The pastor hadn’t financially extorted parishioners or sexually molested anyone, thank God, but he had severely mistreated employees, was known for his explosive temper, and was a raging yet slyly covert narcissist. So much of his wickedness remained hidden for years as he masterfully wove in and out of situations where his behavior would begin to be scrutinized, always managing to avoid accountability. I would also later find out that he managed to make gradual, strategic revisions to the church bylaws in keeping with his larger, self-centered goals. He did this subtly, appointing yes-men to key positions. He took his sweet ole time, moving things along in the span of a few years. Many of the changes he made weren’t bad per se and even seemed reasonable. But he had larger, ill-begotten aims.

But after all of his deceptive manipulations became undeniable, he “resigned.” The truth was that he was going to be fired unless he quit voluntarily. He was savvy enough to see the writing on the wall and concocted an elaborate exit strategy in the months leading up to his departure. He wound up renouncing his denomination's ordination vows and was soon received into a different denomination. He got a job halfway across the country, leaving a huge trail of bruised hearts and countless confused, hurting people in his wake. I know of at least one case where one of the kids of one of the employees he mistreated abandoned her faith because of how her mom was treated in the church. It did a number on her psychologically, and she couldn’t reconcile the love of Jesus with that pastor’s cruel ways. Sure, I don’t agree with her decision to turn her back on God, but there is a substantial part of me that gets it.

Even more scandalously, the new denomination into which he was received likely knows nothing of his abusive patterns as he was able to secure a deal with the church committee that oversaw his resignation process that certain information about how he treated staff would not be disclosed. There was even an article about this sorry saga written about his departure and some of the reasons why it erupted in a major national newspaper. Though this outlet is often unfair to theologically orthodox Christians, the journalist who covered it wrote an accurate, even-handed story and reported what happened with remarkable clarity.

There’s so much more as to why I left and I won’t bother going into further detail, but suffice it to say, the congregation became a shell of its former self. From what I hear, those who stuck around are rebuilding, and the new pastor is an eminently godly man who understands what happened and is doing his best to lead some battered people into better times and much-needed healing.

When I say I was a zombie for months, I’m not exaggerating. I distinctly remember driving on the interstate as it became clear to me that I had to leave and I would sadly stare at the highway, thinking and praying, “Lord, do you have any place for me to go? I do not want to forsake the gathering (Hebrews 10:25) and I can’t live my faith alone. I wasn’t on the receiving end of this pastor’s abuse, but I’m apprehensive to join a new church, and my trust barometer is quite low. Why is your Body so dysfunctional? I thought the local parish I was a part of was theologically grounded, had a lot going for it, and was doing a lot of good in the world. What gives, Lord?”

No sooner had I prayed than my eyes veered to the left and landed on the church I now attend, which is located near an exit on that interstate. For some reason, I felt that familiar tug on the heart that the Holy Spirit does from time to time when I’ve been seeking God for direction.

I’m truly grateful for my new church.

And yet, I’m still a bit nervous. My new pastor is an honorable man, and I have no reason to believe that he’s an abusive covert narcissist like my previous one. The church culture is different too, much healthier.

But here’s what unnerves me, I didn’t realize how unhealthy my previous church had become, and it was only after I left that I was able to look back with 20/20 hindsight and say “Ah, so that’s what that was” regarding so many troubling things that I had previously dismissed as no big deal but should have been a red flag.

And you know what unnerves me even more?

That covert narcissist pastor was a legitimate Bible scholar and expositor of the Word. He would preach sermons that, to this day, when I remember how powerfully he proclaimed them, the truth of his words continues to sink deep into my heart. I still feel the conviction of the Holy Spirit when I think of them. They marked me and genuinely helped form my heart and mind toward the things of God.

There is one such sermon that sticks out in my mind. I do not doubt that the Lord himself breathed it into him, it was incredibly anointed and biblically rooted. He explained how he had a sermon planned that day, but around 3 AM the the Holy Spirit awakened him and prompted him to scrap his plans and preach something else entirely. He was obedient to that and went on to share from his heart about the current moment we as a culture were in, masterfully explaining the philosophical presuppositions that led to the morass, and then he went on to show how Scripture as a whole (not chopped up into a thousand little pieces), rightly interpreted and applied, is the antidote to what ails us. It was a masterful presentation of the Gospel in its fullness. I can’t even begin to do it justice here, but it was truly amazing. I acquired a recording of the sermon and listened to it several times. He even got a standing ovation in both services after he finished. And this was a kind of church where, though the worship was often vibrantly expressive with hands raised in the air, people didn’t rise to their feet in applause after the preaching. It was that good.

And here is the INFURIATING contradiction I must live with now.

How can a man of God like that preach something like THAT, where I know God was using him to communicate some deeply biblical and powerful truth…and also be such a terrible person? I don’t just get a headache thinking about it, it makes me physically sick.

Why and how is this mixture of good and bad such a thing? Spiritually speaking, it’s nearly impossible to hold both of those thoughts together in my head. I now bristle when I hear my former pastor’s name. Yet my heart remains stirred when I recall those powerful sermons he preached. What do I even do with that?

And to be fair, my old church DID do many things well. God was indeed glorified there. People came to faith in Jesus there. The gospel was proclaimed there. Missionaries were sent to the ends of the earth from there. The poor in our community were being helped, materially and spiritually, at the church and in the affiliate ministries we supported with our tithes.

There were indescribable moments on Sunday mornings when I sensed the presence of the Lord manifesting palpably as we sang. I can recall times when sensed and experienced God’s mercy to me there as I took Communion. On one particular Sunday, I was in the throes of a gnarly battle with some besetting sin and I didn’t take communion (I crossed my arms when I went up to receive) and a Ugandan pastor on staff laid his hand on my shoulder and blessed me. In that moment, the presence of God saturated me like I've never felt before. I went back to my seat overwhelmed by God's goodness, an on the verge of tears (of gratitude) for the rest of the day.

Sure, I know how in Scripture God uses imperfect people to accomplish his will. King Cyrus, the pagan Persian potentate that he was, brought deliverance to the Israelites. Isaiah 45 prophesies this and he’s the only Gentile in the Old Testament that is called “anointed” and as far as we know, he never repented of his paganism. In the New Testament, we read of sharp disagreement among the apostles (Galatians 2:11). Peter admits that Paul is hard to understand (2 Peter 3:16) and Paul pleaded with Euodia and Syntyche to resolve their dispute, though we don't know the specifics of their conflict. Somehow, God kept working and the Kingdom has not stopped advancing all over the world. It's a beautiful mystery how He uses deeply flawed men and women to carry out His will on the earth.

So yeah, I get it. Conditions are never perfect nor ideal, and it’s foolish to expect them to be in a fallen world.

But I’ll admit that I seriously hate this infuriating contradiction and I'm seeking the Lord to know how to deal with it because when I survey the landscape, some days it seems bleak. Scandals seem to be emerging across the board. Paul also warns against making shipwreck of one’s faith (1 Timothy 1:19). And bitterness, frustration, cynicism, and heartache over church hurt sure seem like doorways into doing that. I can't do that. Jesus means more to me than to give up over this unrelenting cognitive dissonance.

What to do?

Maybe it sounds a bit trite but I’ll continue to check my heart for those habits of mind and attitude, keeping my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of my faith. Peter's words “You have the words of life. Where else can I go?” (John 6:68) are ringing true here.

And more than anything, I want people to come to know Jesus personally, that they put their trust in him. That they would taste and see his goodness. I want to demonstrate the kindness of God in such a way that it yields repentance (Romans 2:4) to those who do not yet know him. Yes, I know I'll be hated by some (John 15:18) but He's worthy.

And please God, do something only You can do and cleanse the relational rot and narcissistic pastors from your Church because the LAST thing I want is for someone to receive Christ and know his salvation and be transformed...only to find family dysfunction awaiting them among the people who supposedly bear your name. Because if the Gospel is the antidote to all worldly ills (and I believe it is) but the people who convey that are so compromised, corrupt, and abusive...what do we even have to offer? Nothing!

Actually, it’s worse than that, because if we as Christians hold out the Gospel as the solution, we’ll worsen the problems that already exist since all moral authority will be rightly seen as a huge joke.

Come, Lord Jesus. Heal your battered and bruised Bride.