the fool on the hill sees all

For thousands of years, people did not have their own copy of the scriptures. Isn't that amazing?

As Rob Bell said,

For most of church history, people heard the Bible read aloud in a room full of people. You heard it, discussed it, studied it, argued it, and made decisions about it as a group, a community. (Velvet Elvis)

Jesus modeled and laid out a way of following God that was centered in community. He said that whenever two or more of us are gathered in his name that we would make decisions about what it means for us to follow God, that we would bind and loose things, that we would do it together, that he was giving us the keys to the kingdom of heaven (Matt 16:19, 18:18-19). Not the rulers of the age. Us.

And this hits one of my nerves.

I am getting less able to stomach the arrogance of the pulpit. Not a personal arrogance per se (although there is quite a bit of egoism among renowned megachurch preachers). The arrogance I'm talking about is this whole religious culture proclaiming that the pulpit is the authority, and everyone else is to accede. Not to question, not to discuss.

And there's this subtle message that what it means to join is to agree with each of the pulpit’s positions.

The problem isn’t who’s in charge—deacons, elders, a committee, the set man, the senior pastor, the pulpit minister, the apostolic team—the problem is the pulpit. The pulpit inhales all the breath of all the believers into one set of lungs. The pulpit prevents the real working out of how we as a people of God imitate Jesus here and now.

The pulpit creates this bottleneck for faith.

It's like the pulpit is the last word on every subject, not the first. The preacher spends a lot of time preparing—studying the Bible, reading books, collecting his thoughts, listening to God. Maybe he even prays—not only about what he will say but how it will be heard. Then at the appointed time he reveals it from the pulpit to the others who are to be "fed". Is that real?

Lately, the most spiritual times I’ve had have been when 2 or 3 or 4 of us have been together sharing our hearts. Someone tells about how they’re hurting or confused or angry or lustful, and others listen. Room is made for the heart. Sometimes advice is asked for. Sometimes not. And then we just talk about Jesus—who He is, what He’s done, who we are, and what He would have us do. What he would have us do—the us that is here and now. And there always comes a moment of truth, a moment when one person is talking, and what they are saying is so in tune with God that all everyone else can do is be silent, for God is near. And when they are through talking, there’s nothing else to say, only something to be and to do. I’ve been on both ends of this deal. I’ve even had it change hands in the span of one conversation.

I have never experienced anything more holy than these moments.

And nothing is more glorious than when these holy moments give birth to holy acts.

Brian MacLaren, in his book, A New Kind of Christian, suggests that we are leaving an age of conquest and control. And he suggests that a new kind of emerging Christian will be less concerned with conversions and more concerned with conversations. Thank God.

But the old guard is still flexing its muscle—with a certain desperation I might add. But many of us are done with that, and we're not going back. Looking back, we see that the pulpit, once it became the center of Christianity, began to play a role in the subtle erosion of the Way. This has happened over hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, until today Christianity is less about a way of living together and more about what you agree or disagree with. Hence the pulpit.

So in the middle of talking about these things with my friend, he gets a message on his computer that says,

The fool on the hill sees all.

Pretty much sums up the pulpit.