I attended a small town church with a friend of mine… There was no bible reading. There was no congregational singing or worship. The sermon was just okay. The theater, which had no windows was darkened just before the show began. Three congregants stood on the stage and sang three Hillsong type pop songs to an instrumental background track. The concert, and the idea that we were supposed to participate, though we could not even hear ourselves, was very uncomfortable. If it was on the radio, I would have turned it off. I decided I would read my Bible instead, but it was too dark. So we simply sat there, endured, as the nearly motionless, emotionless trio came to the end of the concert. We sat right up front – the other 20 regular congregants all sat in the back half of what was easily a 1,000 seat theater. The young pastor stood, not on the stage where the singing group labored, but at a portable lectern right in the isle almost between the the first row of benches where we were sitting – awkward. They had hymnals in the pews, I was hopeful. Perhaps the congregational worship would come at the end – it never came. Something was not quite right – I just couldn’t put my finger on it. At the close we engaged several people who seemed very friendly. We were invited to come again next week as they were having a communion brunch. Intrigued, we agreed.
The next week we entered what appeared to be the original church building, which felt more like a church, except for the freezers along one side of the building, and of course, tables set up for the brunch meal. The singing group was on the stage again, it was a repeat performance, though the songs may have been different. Surprisingly there was no sermon or message whatever. Broken up pieces of white bread and the little plastic cups of grape juice were passed around. The pastor said a few words for the communion and blessing on the meal. There were a half dozen items on the menus for us to check off on a small piece of paper – our plates were individually served to us. I noticed a few more people showed up on that occasion – maybe there were thirty people. The people were friendly enough. I asked a 80-90 year old man how long ago the church had given up congregational singing. “About ten years,” was his reply. I didn’t understand how such an old church with such large buildings could have so few people. The pastor said he had been there 5 or 6 years. Covid was easily blamed for the lack of attendees. Okay.
Week three. I was hopeful that they would use the worship hymnals that resided in the pews this week. Amazing Grace, How Great Thou Art, any of the thousand greats would have engaged my heart and voice in praise! But no, it was another repeat performance, though not as awkward, as we seated ourselves in the very back row this time. I loaded BlueLetterBible on my phone and began to read until the concert was done. The singing group leader then stepped up to the lectern, I had learned last week that she was the Pastors wife. But she was not simply giving announcements, she began to preach. I quickly searched the handout, there she was listed as one of the Pastors! Suddenly everything made sense! From my limited experience, she was certainly the better orator of the two Pastors – surprisingly so. She preached on the difference between intent and act, hatred and murder, lustful thoughts and adultery, etc. How ironic, I thought! So we come to it:
Yes, the root of sin is in the heart. Transgender mania has gripped the society. If you cross-dress, if you marry the same gender, if you obviously and blatantly put on a display of rebellion against God’s natural order for men and women – well that’s one thing. Could she not hear her own sermon? Who was the head pastor here? Who is the head of their marriage? I would not return to that church – unless they repented. And I do pray for them – that God would continue to withhold His blessing from their ministry, until they repent of their transgendered hearts. They may however persist, and they may find great success in the world in their acceptance of the rebellion of the age. Then I would know that God has turned them over to a reprobate mind. God always answers my prayers – sometimes He just says no! And that is no surprise in a world where the majority are on the highway to hell.
They should thank God that He loves them enough to keep their influence small, to minimize the damage done, to bring them to repentance. God has called men to be Pastors, the older women to teach the younger women. They already know the commands. God calls no one to step out of the gender roles He has commanded in His word for the work of the ministry. All can humbly serve Him with gratitude, that He chooses them to serve where He chooses. It is only pride that calls a wicked heart to think that God needs or calls them to a transgendered role. Humility knows that God does not need anybody to do anything! It would be better to give up the ministry than to continue in this folly – I am afraid for them. I only hope that they can learn the fear of God for themselves.