MY RUN-IN WITH THE CHURCH OF CHRIST IN MOSCOW
Ten years ago this summer, I went to Eastern Europe for three months. I spent two months in Moscow working for a Russian-American consulting joint venture, ten days doing missions work in Albania, three days attending a missions conference in Hungary, and two weeks doing missions work in Romania. What a great summer, in terms of spiritual growth and global perspective. I could write for many hours on that summer, and in fact I ought to someday.
But today I wanted to talk about my run-in with the Church of Christ in Moscow. Church of Christ, as you may know, is considered a cult by most mainstream Christian folks. It takes a Biblical focus on works and perverts the theology to make followers feel as though their salvation depends on their day-to-day performance as Christians.
It didn’t take long for me to bump into the Church of Christ in Moscow. I was to stay with a host family during my time in Moscow, and the father and daughter came to the airport to pick me up. As we were driving back to their house, the daughter asked me in English, “So what are you planning to do here?” And I replied in broken Russian, “I will work and also speak of Christ.” (It was a phrase I had been practicing for several weeks and it still came out mangled.)
Immediately, she began speaking eagerly about her church. That very day, we went to a service, where I met other eager young Christians. I was impressed by their fervor and glad to quickly find a spiritual community to keep me sharp. Even though I knew the group to be Church of Christ, I tried to keep an open mind.
And in fact, over the two months I worshiped with them, I came to appreciate much about the Church of Christ. American Christianity swings to the other end of the pendulum, to the point that many churched folks ignore clear Biblical teachings about the connection between faith and works to, in my opinion, their eternal damnation. The Church of Christ’s constant focus on evangelism, while twisted in its motivation (many a time I heard my host family’s daughter lament about not having shared her faith with anyone on a particular day, as if it was a performance metric that made her less of a believer in God’s eyes), challenged my own apathy when it came to spiritual things. These young adherents boldly spoke to practically everyone they came into contact with, as if they had something eternally important to share. Which, of course, they did.
Because of my limited communications abilities, I decided that my role in this community would be to help them to fill in their newfound faith with a balanced understanding of the Christian life. In other words, rather than throwing out everything they had learned because it had come from a cult, keep what is Biblical but understand that it represents an incomplete picture of what it means to follow Jesus and proclaim His existence in this world. And over the course of my time in Moscow, I built some significant relationships and was able to sharpen and be sharpened by others. I even defended the group when I was visited by some American friends of mine who were passing through Moscow en route to another part of the former Soviet Union for a missions trip, and who immediately dismissed the church group once I told them they were Church of Christ. “Before you point fingers,” I interjected, “understand that we have a lot to learn from them.” I enjoyed being with these young Russian people who desired to serve God with all their heart, and while I understood that their doctrine wasn’t quite right, I was happy to learn from them and to be an edifying presence and a positive influence amongst them.
But the leader of the group, an American named Mike, didn’t seem too happy with my presence and influence in the group. He warned people, including the daughter of my host family, that American Christians don’t take the Bible and obedience and evangelism seriously enough, that my focus on servanthood did not represent true Christianity, and that I should not be befriended or encouraged. The last week I was in Moscow, he invited me and one of the other key leaders, who I come to admire and look up to, to his house for a private conversation. I knew what was coming but decided to go anyway.
Mike got right to the point as soon as we walked in, steering us to the stock Bible passages that people in Church of Christ use to justify their ways. He quoted Psalms about how we are to “proclaim salvation daily,” and asked me if I was doing that. We went to the gospel and epistles and read about the call to radical obedience. At one point, I even saved us some time by jumping in and asking that we read a passage that I knew he would be getting to. I wasn’t trying to discount what he was doing; in fact, I remember praying in the back of my head that I would be open to God teaching me something and not closed off because I was familiar with how Church of Christ people go this way.
But then Mike started to get more into things. He questioned my salvation and mocked my lack of converts I had won for God during my Christian life. He accused and chastised and rebuked. My calm demeanor turned to an uneasiness, even at the same time that my pride kept me from pulling the parachute cord and respectfully leaving the scene. His attack continued, now with pointing and yelling and all with a sly grin, while the other young leader looked on. I looked to my friend and then turning back to Mike, I responded: “Yes, I agree. I have not measured up to the standard set by Jesus. I desire to be like Him in every way. By God’s grace, I accept His forgiveness and I open myself up to His power to make me a better Christian.” I wanted my young leader friend to see what a Christian looked like who sought obedience radically and yet lived humbly and assuredly in a place of grace and favor in spite of glaring sinfulness. I wanted to be that kind of person so he could see, and also so Mike could see.
But most of all, I wanted to be that kind of person because in that moment, I desperately needed to be that kind of person for myself. Mike finally relented, a little satisfied that he had been able to get off his chest what he had probably wanted to say to me from since I first arrived in Moscow, but a little dissatisfied that he hadn’t gotten through to me. I walked home alone, my legs feeling wobbly. It was the worst kind of attack: spiritual, personal, and with more than enough Biblical truth that I couldn’t just discount the whole thing. I prayed, thought, and journaled a long time that night.
Over a month later, with the help of a dear spiritual advisor who helped me look inside my own heart and see the unresolved feelings I had not yet let go, I forgave Mike in my heart for attacking me in that way. And when I did, some of that same grace which kept me on that day rushed into my heart to fill the space those nasty feelings had once taken residence. Ten years later, I must confess I still harbor some icky feelings about it all, but thankfully I can mostly look back and draw lessons for life. I can recollect the incident and not think about being attacked to my core, but rather about being held by grace by a God who is as a father ought to be: setting high standards, but offering unconditional love.
Ten years ago this summer, I went to Eastern Europe for three months. I spent two months in Moscow working for a Russian-American consulting joint venture, ten days doing missions work in Albania, three days attending a missions conference in Hungary, and two weeks doing missions work in Romania. What a great summer, in terms of spiritual growth and global perspective. I could write for many hours on that summer, and in fact I ought to someday.
But today I wanted to talk about my run-in with the Church of Christ in Moscow. Church of Christ, as you may know, is considered a cult by most mainstream Christian folks. It takes a Biblical focus on works and perverts the theology to make followers feel as though their salvation depends on their day-to-day performance as Christians.
It didn’t take long for me to bump into the Church of Christ in Moscow. I was to stay with a host family during my time in Moscow, and the father and daughter came to the airport to pick me up. As we were driving back to their house, the daughter asked me in English, “So what are you planning to do here?” And I replied in broken Russian, “I will work and also speak of Christ.” (It was a phrase I had been practicing for several weeks and it still came out mangled.)
Immediately, she began speaking eagerly about her church. That very day, we went to a service, where I met other eager young Christians. I was impressed by their fervor and glad to quickly find a spiritual community to keep me sharp. Even though I knew the group to be Church of Christ, I tried to keep an open mind.
And in fact, over the two months I worshiped with them, I came to appreciate much about the Church of Christ. American Christianity swings to the other end of the pendulum, to the point that many churched folks ignore clear Biblical teachings about the connection between faith and works to, in my opinion, their eternal damnation. The Church of Christ’s constant focus on evangelism, while twisted in its motivation (many a time I heard my host family’s daughter lament about not having shared her faith with anyone on a particular day, as if it was a performance metric that made her less of a believer in God’s eyes), challenged my own apathy when it came to spiritual things. These young adherents boldly spoke to practically everyone they came into contact with, as if they had something eternally important to share. Which, of course, they did.
Because of my limited communications abilities, I decided that my role in this community would be to help them to fill in their newfound faith with a balanced understanding of the Christian life. In other words, rather than throwing out everything they had learned because it had come from a cult, keep what is Biblical but understand that it represents an incomplete picture of what it means to follow Jesus and proclaim His existence in this world. And over the course of my time in Moscow, I built some significant relationships and was able to sharpen and be sharpened by others. I even defended the group when I was visited by some American friends of mine who were passing through Moscow en route to another part of the former Soviet Union for a missions trip, and who immediately dismissed the church group once I told them they were Church of Christ. “Before you point fingers,” I interjected, “understand that we have a lot to learn from them.” I enjoyed being with these young Russian people who desired to serve God with all their heart, and while I understood that their doctrine wasn’t quite right, I was happy to learn from them and to be an edifying presence and a positive influence amongst them.
But the leader of the group, an American named Mike, didn’t seem too happy with my presence and influence in the group. He warned people, including the daughter of my host family, that American Christians don’t take the Bible and obedience and evangelism seriously enough, that my focus on servanthood did not represent true Christianity, and that I should not be befriended or encouraged. The last week I was in Moscow, he invited me and one of the other key leaders, who I come to admire and look up to, to his house for a private conversation. I knew what was coming but decided to go anyway.
Mike got right to the point as soon as we walked in, steering us to the stock Bible passages that people in Church of Christ use to justify their ways. He quoted Psalms about how we are to “proclaim salvation daily,” and asked me if I was doing that. We went to the gospel and epistles and read about the call to radical obedience. At one point, I even saved us some time by jumping in and asking that we read a passage that I knew he would be getting to. I wasn’t trying to discount what he was doing; in fact, I remember praying in the back of my head that I would be open to God teaching me something and not closed off because I was familiar with how Church of Christ people go this way.
But then Mike started to get more into things. He questioned my salvation and mocked my lack of converts I had won for God during my Christian life. He accused and chastised and rebuked. My calm demeanor turned to an uneasiness, even at the same time that my pride kept me from pulling the parachute cord and respectfully leaving the scene. His attack continued, now with pointing and yelling and all with a sly grin, while the other young leader looked on. I looked to my friend and then turning back to Mike, I responded: “Yes, I agree. I have not measured up to the standard set by Jesus. I desire to be like Him in every way. By God’s grace, I accept His forgiveness and I open myself up to His power to make me a better Christian.” I wanted my young leader friend to see what a Christian looked like who sought obedience radically and yet lived humbly and assuredly in a place of grace and favor in spite of glaring sinfulness. I wanted to be that kind of person so he could see, and also so Mike could see.
But most of all, I wanted to be that kind of person because in that moment, I desperately needed to be that kind of person for myself. Mike finally relented, a little satisfied that he had been able to get off his chest what he had probably wanted to say to me from since I first arrived in Moscow, but a little dissatisfied that he hadn’t gotten through to me. I walked home alone, my legs feeling wobbly. It was the worst kind of attack: spiritual, personal, and with more than enough Biblical truth that I couldn’t just discount the whole thing. I prayed, thought, and journaled a long time that night.
Over a month later, with the help of a dear spiritual advisor who helped me look inside my own heart and see the unresolved feelings I had not yet let go, I forgave Mike in my heart for attacking me in that way. And when I did, some of that same grace which kept me on that day rushed into my heart to fill the space those nasty feelings had once taken residence. Ten years later, I must confess I still harbor some icky feelings about it all, but thankfully I can mostly look back and draw lessons for life. I can recollect the incident and not think about being attacked to my core, but rather about being held by grace by a God who is as a father ought to be: setting high standards, but offering unconditional love.
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