I suppose that the story that follows could have taken place anywhere. Though it is fictional in essence it is based more in truth than in imagination. And what follows is, I think, a sort of parable for our times. I wonder, how will you read it and what it will speak to you?

Within the sprawling superbia that is Southern California, churches like this can be found almost literally, on every street corner. Evangelical in doctrine, relaxed in atmosphere, informal in praxis. Churches, for whom the model had become contemporary music, performed by a small but proficient rock-n-roll band, pumping out upbeat, non-hymn-like music. Nice, but not too “churchy”, non-traditional buildings. Coffee served by smiling hostesses, with warm welcomes. Parking lot attendants assisting visitors to reserved parking closest to the entrance of the campus. All of this designed, of course, to make you feel welcomed and to ensure that your morning worship “experience” is as pleasant as possible.

To any thoughtful modern church member, these are just the things that make up church in Southern California’s fast-paced, consumer based culture. After all, with all the other “choices” available to the potential guest, well, might not even one word of the bulletin misspelled—or parking that is a little to inconvenient—or coffee not up to Starbucks standards, might not these things influence potential seekers to perhaps, seek elsewhere? Yes, I suppose that it could have been anywhere in white suburban America and the story would undoubtedly remain substantially the same. In fact it could have been your church. It could have been mine.

The young youth pastor and his wife were filled with anticipation and excitement as they took on the new challenge of the small high school group. The young church had barely been in existence long enough to warrant the hiring of the part-time couple, but the seasoned, middle aged Senior Pastor was well versed in the mechanics of Church Growth. He could quote ad infinitum the statistics, which demonstrated that in order to attract adults, you must also be able to attract their children. And up to this point in the young church’s life, they had yet to be successful at doing so.

First Faith, as they were known, just seemed to blossom from the moment it opened its doors. With grand opening ceremonies worthy of Wal-Mart, hundreds from the surrounding community and cities joined in the celebration. And, like Michael Crichton’s pitiful but so determined character John Hammond, the millionaire whose wild imagination spawned Jurassic Park, the Pastor here had also “spared no expense.” In what seemed like an obvious act of God’s blessing they had been sought after to consider merging with a small, but aging congregation who owned property on almost three full acres of land. Both the land and its location were highly coveted by other congregations and after meeting in rented facilities for a little less than a year, the offer could not be passed up.

The original, older congregation had apparently failed to “keep up with the times” and so the times had caught-up with them and they could no longer afford the upkeep of the buildings and property. Sadly a full a year after the merging, not one member of the original congregation survived the transfer from the traditional formality of their denomination to the informal, and relaxed atmosphere of the younger seeker sensitive model of church. And, thanks to a several million-dollar renovation, nothing of the original facade remained either.

In a little over a year since their grand opening the church had grown to a congregation of over two hundred adults, yet the High School group had remained no bigger than fifteen. To many church members it had yet to take on the dynamic and vibrant atmosphere, which seemed to be present in some of the larger churches in the city. And so, armed with the latest statistics, the Senior Pastor made the decision to add the necessary paid staff.

The youth room of the newly renovated campus was large, in fact too large for the group’s size, and in some ways its volume only added to the perception that the church had yet to be successful in attracting the younger “seekers”. It had the usual compliment of sofas, beanbag chairs, boom boxes, games, and was in every respect a youth room. In fact it could have passed for one of dozens within the city, were it not for the curious bulletin board in the back corner of the room.

In most respects it was a bulletin board like any other; announcements of upcoming events, surrounded by the obligatory photos from the group’s most recent outings. Calendars and email addresses had been posted in a kind of planned, yet almost chaotic pattern, with the intent of encouraging the group to keep in contact throughout the week; nothing that would seem the slightest bit unusual to the casual observer. In fact, a person might have entered the room a hundred times and never have noticed the oddity unless directed to it. But once they had been, most people found it curious at least. Some found it slightly “off base”. Still others used considerably harsher terms and some said, with sizeable condescension, that it reminded them of their Catholic childhoods.

There, intermingled with the colorful photos of the group showing off for the camera, making the usual strange faces and pantomimes of mock battles and self proclaimed heroics, the youth pastor had placed copies of early church ikons; ancient paintings, each downloaded from the web, depicting some of the greatest Saints and early Church Fathers from throughout church history—women and men who had helped to define and defend the greatest truths of the faith for over 2000 years, many with their very lives.

More than a few of the congregation who had taken the time to peruse the room noticed the ikons with raised eyebrows. You could almost see the confusion sweep across their faces as they laughed at the latest picture of Tim, Angie, Steve and…. St. Augustine? And if you listened hard enough you could almost hear their unspoken concerns: “What does this have to do with anything and how does this relate to my Son?” “I thought I left all this religious baggage when I left St. Johns.” “How will this ever help to attract more young people?” “Surely sooner or later someone in leadership will speak out and correct such an obvious instance of bad judgment. Besides, doesn't having them up here some how constitute some sort of idol worship?"

Sunday mornings for the young group often began with a minimalist approach to worship; usually utilizing nothing more than a single acoustic guitar or at times simply doing readings and reflection. Teachings were most often conversational by design. Frequently the youth leaders would weave into those conversations the stories of some of the Saints posted on that board. They would tell their stories with tremendous passion and admiration, stories full of unwavering, uncompromising lifestyles that often led to martyrdom for the sake of Christ. And what were most surprising to the group of young adults were the tremendous similarities they found in many of the everyday choices faced by those early counter-culturalists. Obviously enough, the particular circumstances were far different, but the call to conform to culture was in many ways even stronger in earlier, less “tolerant” societies. Often those early students of Christ lost vocation and family—maybe even their very lives. Over and over they found themselves confronted by the accounts of those who had given up everything to follow the teachings of Christ.

Over time a kind of genesis began, as many came to realize that following Jesus—becoming truly Christian—meant far more than a simple prayer prayed, a hand raised or a church visit on Sunday mornings. Several in the group were seeing profound changes in their attitudes and in the way they viewed their faith. More than a few were making strong, intentional decisions to bring their lives into line with what they now saw as a stark contrast to the reality of living in the Kingdom of God. The call was becoming more distinct with every meeting: The same life lived out by those ancient believers, lives lived as aliens and strangers in this world, was a very different kind of life from the one being offered them by the sound-bite shallowness of the world they knew and of so many of the churches they had attended. The conversations persuaded many to make intentional choices to dedicate their lives to following Jesus in similar counter-cultural ways.

Over the months the group did indeed begin to grow, albeit spiritually. But for some, it was still failing in its mission to attract the throngs of young people they had envisioned. For more than a few, the group had become far too serious: too “deep.” For some teens the conversations had become irrelevant. What could someone who lived thousands of years before me possibly contribute to my happiness? How could they possibly understand the degree of peer pressures we face today? Life is far more complicated, and besides all that, the group had long since ceased to be any real fun. The level of excitement and energy was not even close to what they had experienced visiting that other large church only two miles down the road. What we need is more games, more excitement, and better music, more outings—more! And as could have been predicted, on any given Sunday, many of the dissenters would simply hang out in the church halls and breezeways. They would sit in the parking lots, watching the attendants directing the mini vans and SUVs, driven by the latest group of church shoppers, into the most convenient spaces. “Why wasn't that same deference being paid to us?” they would wonder among themselves. And watching in the wings, the parents of these teens grew more anxious as the youth leaders did seemingly nothing to placate their children's complaints. And as the weeks passed the talk among many turned to concern about “that” high school pastor.

But through the year that followed the young couple remained undaunted by the questions and criticisms. You see it was their hope all along to gather young people in the same way, and with the same challenges that Jesus placed before those he called: “Leave everything you have and follow me.” Their “church growth strategy” was to make a clear call to those who truly wanted to live the kind of life Jesus offered, and then as his students, to learn from him how to live that life—knowing it was a life that required everything they held dear—knowing it was a life you could not possibly keep to yourself.

As the months passed the dichotomy in the group grew clearer and larger. The questions continued as the complaints magnified and the dissenters grew more vocal. Then something took place that would change everything. Something that would make it abundantly clear to the couple that they would either have to rethink the way they were leading the group or they would have no choice but to give up the leadership and the young adults they had grown to love so much.

Unfortunately the politics of a leadership change in the modern church are never uncomplicated. But to the surprise of all, it was the founding pastor who had decided to leave the church. Word of the Pastor’s successful opening of First Faith had spread throughout the denomination. Wanting to see that success duplicated, he was offered a position at a new church being planted in Northern California. And so after only three years as the primary vision caster at FFC, he announced his intention to leave to a stunned congregation. And, as was the preferred method of many churches of the day, he had in his stead appointed a committee to oversee the finding of a new pastor, empowered with full authority over the fledgling congregation. As the process began to unfold it became very clear to the young couple that the new church leadership was not sympathetic to the direction they had taken the group. Though they had actually managed to grow in numbers, it was all too obvious to some that they were not truly sensitive to the real needs of their children, and they were encouraged to rethink their “calling.” Sadly but confidently, the couple handed in their resignation.

Several months later the church still struggled to find a new identity, a new pastor and a much larger vision. New leadership was installed over the youth group and a most interesting but not wholly unexpected thing took place. In the room once adorned by the great Saints of the past, the ikons had come down, and in their place were hung motivational posters, expounding the benefits of teamwork and commitment. Along side these, hung huge pictures of the latest Christian entertainers, staring self-assuredly into the eyes of some imaginary audience. Three-foot high faces, ironically announcing the artist’s latest release: “It's All About Jesus”. Amid the more entertainment-oriented performers you could also find cover art from the latest CD releases by the “hottest” new worship leaders and bands; men and women being sought after for their innovative new musical styles and cutting edge “worship”. Icons of a new age.

The following Sunday dawned bright and clear. A wonderful day in Southern California, perhaps even a good day to try out that new First Faith Church right down the street just one more time.

The lone middle-aged man stood gazing at the walls of the newly updated and redecorated youth room. As energetic music pumped from the recently installed sound system he spoke to himself in a low whisper; “Are these the people my children are idealizing? I'm not sure I want my kids aspiring to have their faces plastered on a CD. And why is it that all these people are so beautiful? Aren’t there any “real” people who can sing? Besides, doesn't having them up here constitute some sort of idol worship?"

He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as if he were throwing off great drops of sweat, as if the very question of it all were simply too exhausting. Truth be known, he thought it all very superficial, and he wondered, just for a brief instant, how in the world he was ever going to get his children to live differently than their MTV inspired lifestyles, when so much of what they see, even in here, is just the repackaging of the same values they see everywhere else. And as he contemplated his last thought, salvation from his introspection came by means of the loud music beginning to drift down the hall from the sanctuary. He took a quick gulp from his free Starbucks coffee but it was beginning to get cold so he casually tossed it into the nearby trash receptacle bearing the likeness of a dove. And as he made his way down the courtyard he was starting to recognize the song being played by the band. He had heard it just this morning on the way in on his favorite Christian radio station. And he really liked the way the band here played it, much better than the band at New Wine Church up the street. What was it called again? Oh yeah, that’s right: “It's All About Jesus.”