Unflattering

 If you have children or hang around with people with children, at some point during some particular situation, you’ve either said or heard it said that if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Those may be the agreed-upon rules in polite society, but this is war, and there is no room for niceties in war.

Jude had nothing nice to say about those who seek to harm the household of faith and the sheep of God’s pasture, and even though he had nothing nice to say, he didn’t hold back, keep silent, or consider the feelings of those he was singling out.

In today’s hypersensitive generation, what Jude said wasn’t just unflattering; it would be deemed downright mean and willfully caustic. I could almost picture a little old lady in a sun hat and a fan leaning over to another and whispering, “You can’t say that in church; you just can’t say that.”

Jude 12-13, “These are spots in your love feasts, while they feast with you without fear, serving only themselves. They are clouds without water, carried about by the winds; late autumn trees without fruit, twice dead, pulled up by the roots; raging waves of the sea, foaming up their own shame; wandering stars for whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever.”

It’s highly doubtful that after reading his short letter, anyone went back to Jude asking him to expound upon how he really felt. Some might misconstrue Jude’s letter as bitter, but those people have never invested time and energy into bringing someone to shore, only to see them swan dive into the deep the first chance they got.

For those who have never mentored or discipled someone, only to witness their life unraveling because of the influence brought to bear upon them by the vultures and the choices they were making, Jude’s words seem harsh and jagged, angry and cold.

People who think Jude sounds jaded and bitter have never been through a church split or the attempted coup of a ministry. They never felt the hot knife of betrayal slide deftly between their ribs; they never had people they considered friends turn out to be their sworn enemies. They’ve never had to take time to heal from wounds inflicted not by the devil or his henchmen but by those they once called brothers.

You can tell that Jude had firsthand knowledge and experience of such things, so when it came time to unload, although he does so poetically, on a level that belies his likely profession of farming, he holds nothing back.

There is the way I’d like things to be and the way things are. More often than not, the way things are, is markedly different from the way I’d like them to be, but we can’t deal in the abstract; we can’t live in the land of what if because while were’ busy tending to our imaginary gardens where no weeds or tares would dare to bloom, in the real world there are plenty to be had.

Jude was a pragmatist when it came to the dangers posed by those who crept in unnoticed, and rather than pretend they don’t exist or that their intentions are not as nefarious as they seem, he singles them out and describes what they are, what they want, and how they go about trying to get what they want.

It’s not enough for those Jude describes to remove themselves from a ministry, a congregation, or a situation they feel uncomfortable in because, due to their nature, they’d feel uncomfortable everywhere else as well. Their intent was never to assimilate; it was to pretend at being a believer to further an agenda. The agenda in question is always detrimental and destructive for the ministry and church body because you will never find the devil’s henchmen trying to build up the kingdom of God.

It’s largely why the church should disregard any advice from the godless regarding how to better accommodate those of the world and make them feel welcome. Although the world might want it to be so, it’s not the church’s job to make the godless feel comfortable in their sin. If you are in a congregation that coddles sin and makes the sinner feel at ease continuing in his sin, that’s not a congregation; it’s a money-making scheme.

If repentance is a foreign word from the pulpit on down, then know that the church body has been successfully infiltrated, and that which is being preached is another gospel. The pews may be filled every service, and the people might leave feeling better about themselves and their choices, but the church was never about feeling good; it was about being saved.

If a church fails in its primary purpose, that of facilitating a life-changing encounter between the lost, the dead, and Christ, then nothing it does in lieu of that can counterbalance that singular failure. They can dig wells in Africa, build orphanages in Nepal, feed the homeless in Los Angeles, wear ‘we stand with Ukraine' pins, and do all manner of good and noble things, but if they do not preach the gospel of Christ and if they do not call men to repentance, they have failed in their mission.

Charity is a byproduct, not the primary goal of a church. Potluck dinners and popup feasts are all well and good, but first things must come first. It’s likely that if you preach the whole counsel of God, you won’t have as many people show up for the potluck, but the truest expression of God’s love is not Aunt Edna’s extra greasy mac ‘n cheese; it’s Christ’s sacrifice on the cross.

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.