Words of Dis-tinction?

Learned a new word the other day: “intinction.” I came across it while doing research on the website of a denomination I’m familiar with. At first I didn’t bother to check its meaning, but finally curiosity got to me.

Actually, it’s a theological term. If you’re unfamiliar with the word, it’s not surprising. Two pastor friends of mine had never heard of it before either, and both are seminary graduates.

Intinction, I learned, means dipping the bread (cracker or wafer, as the case may be) into the wine (or grape juice, depending on your congregation’s preference) during the observance of communion. The reason the word even appeared on the website is because the denomination was debating whether to declare intinction “an inappropriate method,” meaning the bread/cracker and wine/grape juice should instead be consumed in separate actions.

The apostle Paul said his
focus was Christ and the Cross.

My honest reaction, after suppressing a chuckle, was to ask, “Really? Seriously?” Of all the issues facing the modern church today, leaders are worrying about whether it’s “appropriate” to dip bread into wine while taking communion or if they must insist that congregants eat the bread and drink the wine separately? Apparently it’s a matter inquiring church minds must resolve.

Think of what the 21st century church is confronting today – declining attendance; young people leaving and not returning once they finish high school; divorce rates within the church nearly equaling that of nonbelievers; men regularly attending church addicted to pornography; responding to people living “alternative lifestyles”; or individuals simply wondering how to relate what they hear on Sunday mornings to real-life issues on Monday mornings or Thursday afternoons.

While all this is going on, church leaders are devoting time and energy to whether it’s right to dip the bread into the wine/juice during holy communion?

This seems symptomatic of what ails today’s church, dangerously close to becoming irrelevant in society. Focus is given to issues like “intinction” rather than ascertaining how to effectively convey to men, women and young people in the pews what it really means to live for Christ on a 24/7 basis, to truly experience “victory in Jesus” and not just sing about it. And how to serve as His witnesses in our Judeas, Samarias, and the uttermost parts of the world.

That’s why I appreciate the determination of the apostle Paul, who said, “For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2). Well-intended church leaders would be wise to do the same. Otherwise, as they debate intinction, their churches march toward extinction.

What the ‘Church’ Should Look Like (Part 2)

Years ago I heard the story of a hippie-type couple searching for spiritual truth. Their home was an old school bus and they wore tattered blue jeans, so they didn’t dress the part of typical churchgoers – at least in those days. But they had started to visit one particular congregation anyway, and intrigued by what they heard, continued to attend.

At the same time, they frequented a bar where they formed some friendships.

As it happened, the couple both came down with a temporary but debilitating illness, so they holed up in their school bus for days, too sick and weak to venture out. One afternoon there was a knock at the door of the bus. Outside stood a group of people, arms filled with food, concerned because they hadn’t seen the couple in quite some time. It was their friends…from the bar.

Later the couple would become followers of Christ, but admitted at that moment in their lives, “If we had had to make a choice, whether to join the church or to join the bar, we would have joined the bar.” True story.

A praise song declares, “They will know we are Christians by our love,” but too often that’s not the case. We’re so busy judging people according to how they dress, how they talk, or how they act, we don’t have time – or the inclination – to show them actual love. The kind Jesus modeled.

That’s why I’ve concluded – along with being like a hospital, as I wrote earlier this week – the Church in the 21^st century should be kind of like a bar. Or pub, or tavern, if you prefer.

Displayed at the Hollywood Entertainment Museum,
this bar served as the setting for the "Cheers" TV sitcom.

I’m not talking about breaking out six packs of beer, downing shots of whisky, or mixing margaritas while the offering plates are being passed. But there’s something comfortable, non-threatening about the atmosphere of a bar. After all, it’s the place, if you remember the old theme song for the “Cheers” sitcom:

“Where everybody knows your name,

and they're always glad you came.

You wanna be where you can see,

our troubles are all the same

You wanna be where everybody knows

Your name.”

Country-western singer Toby Keith is not one that’s noted for personal piety, but in his song, “I Love This Bar,” he describes a setting, complete with a very diverse collection of people, the hippie-type couple might have identified with:

“I love this bar

It's my kind of place

Just walkin' through the front door

Puts a big smile on my face….”

Isn’t that how a local congregation should seem? Everyone knows your name – can you say that about your church, if you attend one? Are they truly glad you came, regardless of the baggage you drag through the door? Are they honest enough to recognize their troubles are the same as yours? And when you walk through the front door, does it put a big smile on your face?

In Hebrews 10:25 we’re told, “Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another – and all the more as you see the day approaching.” It would be a lot easier if it were a place where everybody knew your name and was always glad you came. Wouldn’t it?