Southern Reformed Smoker

Running the Kids out of Church on a Rail

It has become darkly humorous to me how the fretting over youth leaving the church has lead to a sort of self fulfilling prophesy. We worry the youth will leave, but are somehow shocked and appalled when they do just that. Fortunately I think there are the rumblings, on the deeper end of the register, that the problem may at least be attributed to a far deeper issue that has taken root in the heart of our ecclesiology currently at large. A while back it began to be commented on that our consumeristic approach, our requirements of church, and then what the church produces to meet the demand, is revealing to us; that we have been floating in a pacific ocean that is only one inch deep across. And this certainly contributed. Shallow theology leads to shallow Christians. Life then happens and suddenly shifts left… Not to mix too many metaphors here but when building a house on sand, don’t be surprised when it collapses. Plenty of churches are like cheap contractors that build mini mansions slapdash. It looks great for a few years then falls apart. However this is not the only problem. A new one has been started to be observed. We have finally begun admitting we ran the kids out of church on a rail, that we hewed ourselves, under the guise of faithfulness. 

The Proprietors

C. M. Haire, General Editor has been working in ministry proper for over 20 years. If you push him he’ll tell you since age 13 and is now 35 so you can do the math. He currently serves as a children’s minister in Memphis, TN. Which is Adrian Rogers country where it is still understood that you can’t be a Calvinist, or a smoker and be in ministry. To add that he also enjoys a regular dram would put his job and salvation into question. Nonetheless he is pleased to edit and contribute here.

T. L. Sterly is, she writes, she enjoys being mean to the general editor. Her name is withheld for no good reason but out of a deep devotion to Lemony Snickett. Also she is married and has one very fat cat. She is writing here under duress.


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