Thanks to VetTix, I get complimentary passes to a number of events around Nashville, and, where several tickets are offered, I check around to see if family members or friends from church might be interested in the event. In rare cases, I’m not so keen on attending, but I’m happy to go along if there’s real interest in others. 

Recently, my granddaughter asked to attend a big event at Bridgestone Arena, which holds 20,000 people. A lot of folks had the same idea, and, to my eyes, the venue was pretty much sold out. In this case, Steven Furtick and Elevation Worship brought a two-hour program of singing and preaching, and I enjoyed it more than I expected. I’d seen Furtick on TV and didn’t warm to him particularly. He struck me as another snappy, celebrity, “Word of Faith” preacher, whose message was tailored as much to the feelings of the listeners as to the “whole counsel of God.” It doesn’t help that Oprah included him in her SuperSoul100 (“the world’s biggest trailblazers”) along with such spiritual luminaries as Rob Bell, Deepak Chopra, Arianna Huffington, T. D. Jakes, Tony Robbins, Maria Shriver, and Eckhart Tolle). And it’s apparent to many that, to catch Oprah’s eye, he’d blazed some trails out beyond orthodoxy. 

Be that as it may, I noted that we’d sung some of his music in church, and it seemed both kosher and compelling. Sure enough, I found a good measure of fine, Scripture-laden singing in the building where the NHL Predators play. And, yes, true to the label, I was “elevated” by some of what I heard, including the picture our praising in heaven the “Lion of Judah.” The staging was stunning, and, throughout the hall, a lot of Christian brothers and sisters were singing right along, hands raised. In that connection, we were offered seats better than those we were assigned because the official occupants wanted to stand on the landing throughout the evening so they could really get into it. Glad I went.

Still, I had a big hitch in my spirit—that they were telling only half the story, the glorious part. What I didn’t hear was a word that resonated with James 4:8b-10: 

. . . Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. 9 Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. 10 Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.

That sort of elevation, of being “lifted up,” didn’t come through. Neither did talk of “sinners.” And I don’t recall reference to “repentance,” as in Peter’s, Acts 3:19a counsel—"Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out . . . .”

Our hymns and gospel songs used to pick up on this: “I was sinking deep in sin, far from the peaceful shore, very deeply stained within, sinking of rise no more” (Rescue the Perishing); “If My people, which are called by My name, Shall seek My face and turn from their wicked ways; Then I will hear from heaven” (If My People Will Pray, from 2 Chronicles 7:14); “I am resolved to go to the Savior, Leaving my sin and strife” (I Am Resolved); “Long my imprisoned spirit lay, Fast bound in sin and nature’s night” (And Can It Be?); “What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus” (Nothing but the Blood). But now we’re vastly more likely to hear of our victimhood and brokenness.

This follows a progression I saw in Southern Baptist doctrinal statements, from the 1858 Abstract of Principles of SBTS (with man’s having “a nature corrupt and wholly opposed to God and His law”) to the 1925 Baptist Faith and Message (with “wholly opposed to God and his Law” replaced by “in bondage to sin”) to the 1963 BF&M (where we read that we have “a nature and an environment inclined toward sin”). All true, but progressive softening, picturing us first as hellions, second as captives, and third as unfortunately-biased creatures.  

Which leads me to note this mailbox I came across in Nashville.  Finally, a family not reluctant to tell it like it is with humility! Indeed, we’re all sinners, deserving death and hell. But if we will confess and repent of our sins, the Lord is gracious toward us as we turn to him in faith.  

Or maybe I’m reading too much into their choice of wording. Perhaps they’re distant relatives of professional tennis player Jannick Sinner, a native of the northern, German-speaking region of Italy. If so, their name probably derives from a German word for “pondering,” maybe connected with the occupational surname for weights and measures inspectors, itself linked to the French for “signers.” Or maybe it connects with the English word for Samson. Or something else. “Beats me,” said the Internet searcher.

Never mind that. I’m sticking with this mailbox as a tool for evangelism, reflecting the spiritual candor of the occupants.