All that glitters is not gold.
A couple years ago, my wife and I had the privilege of visiting a Christian friend and worker in the Netherlands. During our visit, she took us to the village of Haarlem, just outside Amsterdam, so that we could visit the house of the Ten Boom family. Being familiar with the account of what happened there in World War II, I had some idea of what to expect, but actually being there far surpassed my expectations. Walking through the home of a family who sacrificed so much to save Jews from the Nazis, standing in the tiny Hiding Place that was the secret shelter—I’ll never forget it! But I was also extremely moved by something I didn’t expect. Before being taken on a tour of the house, our volunteer tour guide sat us down and gave us a little history of the Ten Boom family. Central to that history lesson was one of the clearest and most powerful gospel messages I’ve ever heard.
One hundred meters down the block from the house is a large city square in which rises Saint Bavo’s Cathedral. It’s an arresting sight. The massive structure dominates the square. But it’s not merely the exterior that’s impressive. Inside is the Müller pipe organ. Consisting of over 5,000 pipes, this organ was played by Mendelssohn, Händel, and Mozart. Herman Melville used this organ to describe the inside of the whale’s mouth in Moby Dick. (Also inside the cathedral is a “dog beater’s chapel,” just for good measure!)
As I stood there, it occurred to me: if I were to ask any unbeliever which of these two buildings was most effectively being used for the work of God, they’d think the question was ridiculous. To compare a humble home, tucked away among a variety of other houses and shops, to the towering cathedral with its priceless organ and rich history? They’d be certain to choose the cathedral. Certain…and utterly wrong. All day long, day after day, countless men, women, and children are confronted with a powerful and clear gospel message that explains why the Ten Boom family was willing to sacrifice their lives to save strangers. The cathedral, on the other hand, looks impressive, but is mainly a tourist attraction. One is substance, the other is show.
Isn’t this a lesson for us about how the Lord works? The world would tell us that, in order to be effective, the church must be large, flashy, and extravagant. We need massive buildings, spectacular programs, and impressive music. But doesn’t the Lord typically work through humility and apparent weakness (1 Cor. 1:26-29)? This isn’t, of course, to say that there is any virtue in being careless or shoddy in our work. But it is to say that we ought to resist the pressure to judge the success of a local church by the same standards an unbeliever would use. There will be a day when the church will be revealed in glory to the world—a glory infinitely greater than the cathedrals and pipe organs of men. But today is not that day.
In all this, we walk in the footsteps of that One who is everything to the church: Head, Bridegroom, Foundation, Cornerstone. He came to this world in a manner none of us would have guessed: a babe in a humble family. He lived a life of simplicity and hardship. At the zenith of His popularity, He had no place to lay His head. He died a horrific death of shame. Unbelievers typically conclude that He failed. But we know that Christ’s triumph at the cross outshone every other achievement in history. And, one day, He will be revealed for all to see in dazzling glory that far surpasses any majesty that any of us have ever dreamed.