Why Church Stinks

I know what you're thinking.
You clicked on this link to read this for one of two reasons:

1. You know me personally and know that I dearly love the church- and am passionate about the gospel and missions. So- you wonder why I would say that the church stinks.

2. You have been hurt by the church in some way and were hoping to find another frustrated human being that has been wounded by the church. 

I would like to say both is true- I love the church. I believe that Christ died for the church. The church is a blessing and is so necessary to walking together in this dark world. I'm thankful for the church! But I've also been hurt by the American church. Let me explain why.

Last week I went with 11 friends from the Baptist Collegiate Ministry on my campus and served in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. We were so excited to go pour our hearts out and love on "the least of these." Beforehand, I asked that the Lord would give me such a heart for this people and that He would use me in mighty ways among the orphaned and widowed. Little did I know that He had way bigger plans.

Each day we visited the poorest neighborhoods in the city- witnessing poverty far worse than I have ever seen. The first day we drove into the neighborhoods, we passed piles of trash in the streets- with many people scavenging through them, hoping to find food. Yet, at each of these centers where we led VBS for over 400 children, was such a love that I have never experienced. Though these children had so little materially, they had so much love to give. They poured out their hearts and lavished us with affection. These children- so hungry for more than just food. Hungry for attention. Hungry to be held. Hungry to be known. 

These children taught me more than I was able to teach them. They loved more than I could love them. They served me more than I was able to serve them.

Each day was a beautiful picture of Christ's love. Of His glorious gospel. Of His redeeming of that which was lost and broken. 

And on Saturday we visited a place so different than any place I've ever been. It was like a different planet...

One where men, women and children lived, worked, and slept in the trash of the city. These people dig through mountains of trash in hopes of collecting 50 lbs of plastic- enough to exchange for $1.

And the world I live in now doesn't make sense. Knowing that as I go to and from church, coffee dates, babysitting, and school- that constantly, there are people around the world just trying to survive, forced to dig through rubbish. 

And I'll never be able to recover. I'll never be able to erase the images from my mind. I'll never be able to shake the overwhelming cry of desperation and hopelessness. And I saw it in there eyes.

And as we fed them food and gave them water my heart broke and my knowledge of the brokenness of this world was shattered. 

Yet there was grace.

Because a bus went to the dump and brought whoever wanted to come to church that night. And they came and people filled the church sanctuary. A beautiful mix of people. Americans and Hondurans. Rich and poor. Clean and dirty. 

Yet, the smell was unbearable. It was so much worse because it wasn't just trash anymore. The smell wasn't just the mountains of rubbish that we had walked through earlier that day.

It was the people. 

One man named Marco Anthony sat next to me and poured out his heart to us as I held my breath and tried not to breath through my nose. He embarrassingly looked into our eyes and told us how we were so clean... but he was so dirty. 

And in that moment I just wanted to cry out in my broken spanish, "No, no. Estoy sucio. Estoy sucio tambien." No, no. I am dirty. I am dirty too. 

My dirt might not be a physical filth. I might not smell like garbage. My skin might not be black with dirt.

But I stink too. My sin smells and looks different. But it still stinks.  

And the whole church stinks. Because we're truly all broken, messed up, filthy sinners and the only clean part of me is Jesus. Its only Him. I'm not clean because I get to shower everyday. I'm not clean because I go to church. I'm not clean because I have gone on mission trips. I'm not clean because I read my bible. I'm not clean because I pray. I'm not clean.

But Jesus is.

The only hope I have in being clean is in the scandalous grace that Christ poured out. The grace that covered my sin. The grace took my wretched stink from me. The grace that washed me clean. 

And I realized that night that me and this Honduran man who lives and works in a dump have much more in common than I thought. Both just wretched filthy sinners, desperately in need of a Savior. 

That night Marco Anthony came forward and proclaimed that he needed a Savior. He proclaimed that he needed to be clean. And I believe he realized that he couldn't clean himself up. That it would have to be living water. No matter how much soap and water, his stink would never leave, without the redeeming blood of Jesus Christ. 

Isn't this the smell we have too? Don't we see it? Don't we smell it? 

For the American church, our sin stinks too. It might look very different. It might covered up by many of our self-righteous works. It might be hiding beneath our facades of perfection. It might be disguised as a "I'm doing good" during the greeting time each Sunday. It might be masked by our church memberships, countless bible study groups, and mission trips. 

To be honest, I think that the stench of the American church is much worse than the awful smell of the dump. Because at the dump, the people knew of their filthiness. They realized their need. They smelt their filth. Yet, in the American church I think we forget that we stink too. We forget that this salvation and the countless blessings that the Lord has graced us with are not because we worked hard. Its not because we grew up in church. Its not because we try our best to not drink, cuss, or have sex outside of marriage. 

Its because of Jesus. Its all Him. 

Not one stinking thing we have done has earned us any of this.

I needed this reminder. I needed this picture. I needed to smell the stink and realize that it wasn't the people from the dump- rather it was me.

I pray that God would reveal this same truth to those in the American church. Once we finally smell our stink and surrender to Christ our self-righteousness, that's when His name is made great. Thats when hearts are changed and Jesus is glorified and true, life-giving water rushes in and cleanses us, the most filthiest of sinners. 




Photo Credit: Point of Impact, poihn.org