One Good Thing
I'm writing this from behind a curtain, in a convention center, in a city here in Texas. I came to this place to attend a meeting for the leaders of our denomination. I couldn’t take what I was hearing, so I stole out of the convention room, got a diet coke and some Nacho Cheese Doritos, found a quiet place, and decided to write instead.
I told you J and I were getting away for a couple of days. I just didn’t mention that we were going to a religious meeting.
I know; it sounds pretty boring to me too. But we did get away without the kids, and we do have our own motel room.
Talk about your revival!
So anyway, I was sitting in this huge convention hall hearing sermons and speeches and watching video presentations and reviewing complicated budgets. My college roommate and seminary buddy Bruce saw me in the hall. I hadn’t seen him since the funeral. We sat in the back, bored out of our skulls. Bruce decided to write letters to some parishioners, occasionally nodding or clapping when everyone else did.
I listened. I watched. I go to this meeting every year, but this year I have new eyes. I don’t know where I got these eyes, but I have them. And this year I see clearly.
I think I know what’s going on here.
A group of church people decides they want to do good things in the name of Jesus. A few churches join forces, and they get some good things done. They do. Then someone asks the question. If doing ten good things in Christ’s name is wonderful, how much better would a hundred good things be? How about a thousand?
Of course, if you mean to do a thousand good things for Jesus, you better get organized. You’re going to need a lot of people and a lot of money.
The organization of people who want to do good things for Jesus grows until it can only be run by professionals and insiders who operate in a very tight, “good old boy” network. A person could make a career just learning how to negotiate this network, learning which hands to shake and which votes really matter. Soon, regular church people cannot comprehend the complexity of the organization, but they foot the bill for it. In an effort to keep the money coming, the insiders turn more and more of their efforts toward marketing the organization to their own people.
The goal is a magical balance. You want the lay people to be impressed enough to send money, but you want them intimidated enough to stay out of the way. It’s good if you can flash a lot of Ph.Ds and some unthinkably complex flow-charts.
What you end up with is millions of people paying thousands of people to manage the doing of good things for Jesus.
“Let us take care of things for you, sweethearts. Don’t worry your pretty little heads, but do keep sending your money because we did 125,247 good things for Jesus last year, the highlights of which can be seen on our 16 minute video promo. With your help, next year will be even better, praise the Lord. Next year we might do over 150,000 good things for Jesus.”
And that, my friends, is what we in the business call a denomination.
I made it through two hours of the first meeting, and then I couldn’t stand it anymore.
I dropped my reports and pamphlets on the floor, picked up my complimentary tote bag, and left the big, giant room. It was like leaving a ballgame to go to the bathroom. “Excuse me, excuse me, I’m sorry, excuse me.” Then I was out. Out of there. Out of the big room. I wandered around, dazed, until I found a little place behind a curtain where I could pull out my computer and write this to you.
It's not that they don't do good things. They really do. This particular organization has given homes and college educations to thousands of homeless children over the last twenty-five years, for example. It's not that I think I'm better than the people in this organization. Jesus, I'm not fit to kiss some of their shoes. They are wonderful people as individuals, and I love them.
It's just that the idea of a million, billion good things for Jesus has lost its appeal for me. I can't wrap my mind around the concept. I don't think you can count good things done for Jesus. I don't think you can bind them together and squeeze them onto a video tape. I don't understand the boundaries, I guess. I don't even know where a good thing for Jesus ends and just a plain old good thing begins.
I think - and I’m just talking here, just talking behind a little curtain, just wondering and asking - I think maybe I’d like to do just ONE good thing for Jesus. You know, just one good thing and give all of myself to it.
Maybe writing Real Live Preacher is my one good thing; I don’t know. I know that I don’t really care about thousands of good things done for Jesus. I just want to do one good thing and do it well.
I wonder what would happen if everyone found one good thing to do in this world. I'm talking about regular people now, not organizations with videos and budgets and all of that. Just people; just you and me.
If we quit managing thousands of good things and did one good thing, I think we would know the joy of work and the pleasure of rest. We would know the rhythm of week and Sabbath, of work and play, of night and day.
And if all of us were doing one good thing, wouldn’t that add up to millions of good things?
And isn’t that what we said we wanted all along?
rlp
7:57:19 AM 
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