We often think of growth as the magic bullet. More people must equal more money, more ministry power, more outreach, bigger, better, greater. And it may well mean those things on some level, though not always. But equally, more people means more problems, more conflict, more issues to address. Praying for growth is great, but it is most definitely a dangerous thing to pray.

Everybody likes growth, don’t they? Most of us seem to want our churches to grow. And by growth, I think we often mean qualitatively in maturity in Christ but typically mean quantitively in number of people. Growth is often what we’re after.
As such, it is not uncommon to hear people praying for growth. Asking the Lord to grow our people. Asking him to grow our church. Asking him to cause our people to know and love him more. Asking him to bring new people in who will come to know him and serve alongside us in the ministry. I doubt there are many churches who are not praying prayers like these, in some way, shape or form.
But few of us realise what dangerous prayers these are to pray. Don’t get me wrong, they’re not sinful prayers. There’s nothing wrong with praying these things at all. Assuming we are praying them because we are concerned about the glory of God being seen in his church, of course we want our people to grow in their knowledge and love of the Lord Jesus, to grow up to spiritual maturity in him and for unbelievers to come, hear the gospel and put their trust in Jesus. These are good things to pray. But they are dangerous things to pray.
What do you think happens when people in your church start to become more godly and Christlike? I mean, practically speaking. What will happen? We often imagine that will make our life easier. They will become more active members of the church. They will engage with the Word on levels we had not seen before from them. All entirely possible.
But just think about what that means for you for a moment. More Christlike, godly people tends to means our deficiencies will be noticed where they previously weren’t. Not in a nasty or malevolent way, but in a way that people who want to glorify God notice when things are not as God-glorifying as they might be. People hungrier to engage the Word in ways they didn’t before means more awkward questions, thorny issues being wrestled with, demands of sermons scratching where they now itch.
Read More
Related Posts:

Written by Derek J. Brown |
Friday, May 12, 2023
Christians should grieve over the death of a fellow brother or sister in Christ. It is good and right to feel the weight of sorrow when our beloved fellow Christians are taken home. It is not a grief without hope (1 Thess. 4:13), but it is a grief, even a “sorrow upon sorrow.”

If we are citizens of heaven, awaiting a future of glory and an eternal inheritance—someday to be forever in the presence of Christ and again among our earthly brothers and sisters—then why should we grieve over our brethren who die and go on to heaven before us?
Isn’t it a sign of earthly-mindedness to grieve over such things? Isn’t it unspiritual to be sad when a fellow Christian dies? If so, wouldn’t it then be even more unspiritual for a Christian to rejoice when a fellow brother or sister is healed and allowed to live longer here on earth? The answer to all these questions is a resounding “no.”
“To live is Christ and to die is gain” (Phil. 1:21).
The apostle Paul proclaimed, “To live is Christ and to die is gain” (Phil. 1:21). He reminded the Philippians that they were citizens of heaven, someday to receive new bodies like the body of their Lord (Phil. 3:20). Yet, Paul was also grateful to God for sparing his brother and fellow worker Epaphroditus from death.
Read More
Related Posts:

The church has a culture and your feeling of “not being quite at home” is because you are trying to live independently and according to your own fashion. The church has a rhythm and a flow. It has patterns and practices and those who embrace them will feel cared for and safe. But those who remain aloof will not experience those blessings.

In Edith Wharton’s, The Age of Innocence, Newland Archer, the young man set in the ways of old New York, has a conversation with Countess Ellen Olenska, who has recently returned from Europe after leaving her wealthy husband for his many affairs. Olenska doesn’t fit into old New York for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is, she is unfamiliar with the customs of her new environment.
At one point, early in the novel, Archer and Ellen have a conversation. Archer speaks according to the form and fashion of the day while Ellen is free and full of candor.  At one point, Ellen does not understand why her house, situated on a respectable street, is not good enough, to which Archer replies, “It’s not fashionable.” This produces a striking and revealing reply from Ellen, “Fashionable! Do you all think so much of that? Why not make one’s own fashions? But I suppose I’ve lived too independently; at any rate, I want to do what you all do – I want to feel cared for and safe.”
I love the old literature for lines like these. Authors think deeply about the human condition and often draw insights that are pastoral in nature. For example, consider Ellen’s statement, “Why not make one’s own fashion?” In 1920 Wharton could only dream of what Sinatra would sing in 1969. “My Way” or “one’s own fashion” seems like the Adamic desire of the human heart. But even that desire understands that such a thing leads to loneliness and insecurity. In other words, fallen people want their independence so long as others are independent with them.
Read More
Related Posts: