Just Another Visit to the Pagan Petting Zoo

A Call to Stand as the World Plunges Deeper in Darkness

Ignoring the stench of burning garbage outside while focusing everyone’s attention on becoming a better “you,” is an illusion worthy of landing a show in Vegas. There’s nothing more comforting than warming a seat cushion at the weekly pep rally while throwing some coin at Crooked Tree Elementary’s annual free mochaccinos from Sunrise Heights Family Community Happy Valley Church to feel #blessed. It’s easy to give toward something you never have to engage with. You Venmo the love of Jesus with a warm, fuzzy tap. Afterall, homeless people need socks and kids need no. 2 pencils and more glue paste to eat. Appreciation letters plaster the lobby walls from schools and community organizations, alleviating you of any guilt from inaction. Give yourself a good pat on the back, you deserve it.

Then a letter arrives, affectionately stamped to you from your child’s school: “Coming This Fall!”, a new, socially engineered curriculum being served up in classrooms all over Happy Valley to help your child develop into the person society wants them to become. It sounds harmless: self-worth, anti-bullying, acceptance of others, discovering your sexuality, being a good helper, and saying no to drugs. Wait…discovering what?! He’s in kindergarten! Maybe it was a typo, or someone was having a bad morning, leaving flawless grammar in their wake. Your core constricts. You call the school. Your church gave them caffeinated kindness and now their urinating on your lukewarm convictions.

It’s a shock to the system when bribes don’t work on darkness. You gave it gift cards and dropped off lattes in hopes they turn to righteousness. Your church relentlessly reached a community with fingers crossed, hoping generous silence would lead to a spot in the upcoming Happy Valley Holiday parade. Only to find darkness purring while being petted with gospel-free lattes. When the church stands idly by, throwing candy at school boards, darkness keeps that parade slot wide open.

“Preach the gospel, and if necessary, use words!” That famous quote St. Francis never said, but many churches embody. Be seen and not heard. People saw Jesus when He was quietly hurling tables in the temple. Peter enjoyed free stays at the Hanoi Hilton for preaching Jesus in the temple after repeatedly being told not to. Stephen wouldn’t shut up about his faith while his face kept blocking boulders from hitting the ground. Peter used his words. Jesus lived loud. The apostles stomped on eggshells.

Silence paid off, the church cheered it on, and congratulations, that free caramel macchiato you Venmoed is now unlocking the proper pronoun for your second grader. Darkness loves your charity when Jesus is left out of the conversation and allowed to prowl freely. Hopefully preparing for spiritual warfare was on the recipe card for becoming a better you.

The gospel, when preached boldly, lands you on a cross, your head on a platter, and being hoisted onto a wall as human candle stick. Darkness hates you. You were born into it, a slave to its sin, and only Jesus can set you free. Freeing people is bad when you’re in the darkness’ business. Give them handouts, not keys to their chains. Whatever you do, don’t call evil, evil. Just give it your appeasement offering and continue on the next exhibit.

Communities embrace a generous, toothless church unable to muster a roar. They welcome your absence against abortion, your “no comment” on LGBT+-R2D2² and bowing out while your children enjoy a steady diet of gender dysphoria and familial primates. Just don’t hand Jesus the microphone. The Pharisees told Peter the same thing. Do your best Christian mime, hand out socks, and you’ll be displaying that Community Partnership Award in no time.

Silence is a cheap fleece blanket churches snuggle into on a Monday, insulating the status quo while basking in the light of its LED panels inside a darkened hype-cave. Hear the church roar only inside its four walls. Nothing like bravely singing in the shower at the top of your lungs for no one to hear.

Roars are meant for the wild, not self-enclosed zoo exhibits for paying customers to snap selfies #Jesusiskool.

Love roars. It abandons cushioned seating at the risk of being unfollowed on Instagram and reverberates into the darkness. Love willingly paints a fluorescent orange target on itself for darkness to dial in its crosshairs. Love is more concerned with eternity than conformity. Love stares the human condition in the face without blinking. Love engages a society on the brink and points it to a cross.

Stop hanging with culture in the photo booth. Blurring the lines between Jesus and Jezabel isn’t love, it’s confusion. Stop wooing her with empty trinkets untethered to a cross. Light stomps down darkness’ door, piercing into the darkest corners of deceit. Light scatters woke cockroaches preying on children in lesson plans. That’s love.

Resist the temptation to muzzle a gospel intent on offending the sweetest of sinners. Charity never nullifies confrontation, and silence isn’t golden. Filling up food banks isn’t a hall pass for passivity; it’s a catalyst for courage. Cleaning your school campus isn’t a “Get Out of Jail Free” card when righteousness comes calling at the school board meeting. We can’t keep Jesus caged in acoustically padded auditoriums while caffeinating a dying world. He was meant to roar.

Mochalattocaffechinos taste much better when brewed in the gospel. Jesus gave people abundant life while exposing snakes, vipers, and hypocrites. He opened blind eyes in front of those scheming a path to a cross. He uses backpacks filled with school supplies, sandbags to keep the floodwaters out, and paid medical bills to reach hearts for the gospel while publicly standing against organizations exploiting our most vulnerable. The gospel uses charity to point people towards eternity. It generously hands out groceries and opens its auditoriums as Red Cross shelters, while standing vigilant against propositions for transgender bathrooms.

Darkness would love nothing more than a toothless lion gumming at sin while passing out free ice cream coupons to a bound up world.

The church was meant to roar the gospel loudly, love generously, and live victoriously.

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