As society judges people, Orville was one of the most un-cool guys I’ve ever met.   Most of his teeth were missing. And the few that remained poked up at odd angles in a mouth that was often caked with dried saliva.  A sizeable paunch rendered his physique something other than cool.  His few strands of hair were as wiry as they were wild—definitely not cool.   Truthfully, there was little about Orville’s appearance that suggested he was anything other than a country bumpkin.

Orville was a farmer all his life and I didn’t know much about the man—apart from his appearance—until I observed the 175^th anniversary of the church he attended all his life.  Amid the many tributes that were made, Orville’s name came up several times.

I listened as an older man stood up and recounted the story of his coming to Christ.  It was Orville who had first invited him to a men’s Bible study.  It was Orville who followed up when the man failed to show at the men’s’ group. It was Orville, who helped this frightened new believer work through his first time praying out loud in a group. “You just follow me,” said Orville, who prayed simply and gently and continued to work with his friend.

There were other tributes to Orville. And it all got me to thinking.  Maybe we Christians have been swept up in the world’s notion of coolness.  Of being “really in.”

But as I read the Bible, the one “in” that Jesus is most preoccupied with: being “in” the Lamb’s Book of Life. Helping others get their name in!  And I’m guessing by that standard, Orville’s life must might put mine to shame.

When my wife and I were married, it was Orville who volunteered to clean up the reception.  Cups and plates and napkins…crumbs and spills.  Orville made sure it was all cared for…so we could drive off to our honey moon.  And he did it all with a near toothless smile—and not a single ounce of self-congratulation.

He’s been dead a good fifteen years now.  Yet Orville’s name and reputation and investment in the kingdom of God lives on—as the names of the righteous—always do.

Know any people who are completely uncool?

Is it just me...or is the evangelical subculture on a trajectory toward the outer edge of Christian conduct and lifestyle?  I say yes, it is.

Perhaps it's a reaction to the 60s and 70s when many Christians almost defined themselves by the cultural things they DIDN'T do.  Today's generation appears bent on ramming right up against the outer edges of acceptability.  Statistics show that in general, they drink more, watch more R-rated films, use cruder language, and are much more comfortable than previous generations playing violent or sexually explicit video games.

Now clearly it was a non-biblical world view to define yourself by the stuff you DIDN'T do. No question.  But there's hardly a biblical trophy set aside for most-worldly-cultural absorption.

Conveniently stashed away by many in today's generation—either by ignorance or choice—are biblical commands to be holy—that is set apart.  And if that “set apartness”--that essential call to holiness--does not influence our choices in entertainment or leisure, or speech, then exactly what is it for?  A reminder to show up for Sunday School (providing you're not too tired from the over-night Halo party)?

But if we watch the same sexually explicit films as our unsaved friends, play the same violent video games, use essentially the same salty language, and hoist a sudsy mug with the same frequency as our unsaved friends, exactly how set apart can we claim to be?

To those who disagree, let me ask this simple question: If your Monday through Saturday is loaded with entertainment choices and language choices and leisure choices that are identical to the world, doesn't it seem like you have watered down most any hope of a lifestyle contrast?   Exactly what are you left with—the fact that you go to church on Sunday?

I saw a great headline the other day in “The Onion,” a spoof newspaper.  Went like this: “Nation just wants to be safe, happy, rich comfortable, entertained at all times—also healthy,   fulfilled, successful and loved.”

The article went on to quote a supposed Maryland resident, Lena McCarthy who said, “It’s not that complicated.  At the end of the day, all I want from America is a good job, a nice house, romantic fulfillment, beautiful sunny weather during the day, star lit skies at night, low gas prices, independence from foreign oil, free food, free healthcare, free media, everything free.”

At first I laughed.  But the more I thought about it, the more I thought about it.   This is exactly how most Americans feel, deep inside (or maybe not so deep).  We want it all, and we feel entitled to it all, and we want that “all” all the time.   Now that's bad enough for the public at large.  But when Christians grasp at the same things for the same reasons, we have a serious problem on our hands.   And increasingly, that's the case.

Look around and you'll observe that many Christians are as hot and heavy in pursuit of the good life as we are the God life.  The truth is, we've all been sucked in to a lesser or greater extent. I wish I could tell you honestly that I myself haven't wished for the good life.

But such a longing is in direct conflict with the Bible. Scripture calls us to be salt and light in our culture—not consumers of that culture.

Why this doesn't bother us...OUGHT to bother us.

I think we need a daily reminder—I'm serious—that we do not belong here.  Maybe it's a card we stick on the refrigerator.  Maybe it's a graphic we put on our smartphone—or wall paper for our computer.  Whatever you choose, the message ought to be this:  We're here for a season—not for the long haul.  So our ambitions, our affections ought to be—as Paul said, “on things above, not on earthly things.”

So this week, we had the distinct pleasure of taking our two grandchildren to the zoo.  They'd been waiting all summer for us to join them and having crammed the car full of strollers, kids and a picnic lunch, we finally arrived.

Almost immediately, I was struck by a rather odd impression: Where are all the animals?

Whether for reasons of political correctness, budget cuts, or a trendy understanding of proper zoo etiquette, the place has become much more about habitats and environmental education than about the animals themselves.

Understand that this zoo is Chicago's premiere animal attraction.  Yet they didn't even have one single elephant.  The monkey house—once loaded with primates—is an animal ghost town.

It is as if the zoo is now satisfied to live off the glory—and reputation—of past years, but lacks a real commitment to what is supposed to be their true priority and passion.    The zoo has become something less than a zoo.

In a strange way, our trip to the zoo reminds me of many evangelical churches today.   We celebrate the fact of the Great Commission.  We love to talk about “outreach” and strategize about ways we can be more “missional.”

But so many of our churches have so few honest conversions, we are rather like the zoo: living off the glory of what might have been our past.  And, to mix metaphors here, a lot of our mega churches have seen most of their growth from what my pastor calls “sheep stealing” rather than growth by conversion.  It's the flock that's been found shifting around to other pastures.

Sadly, many of us lack a real commitment to what is supposed to be our true priority and passion.    The church has become something less than a church.

It's time to re-commit ourselves, our resources and our churches to what Jesus has defined as our true priority and passion: making disciples.  And making disciples always begins with lost people.

Why are so many Christians living such shallow lives?

In my opinion, one of the biggest reasons is we have sold them eternal fire insurance rather than the real deal.

Let me explain.

For decades now, many—quote unquote--successful evangelical voices  have sold Christianity on a felt-needs basis.  And what need is greater than the need to escape  Hell? 

Who DOESN'T want to avoid the lake of fire, burning with sulphur?  So for generations now, we have sold what I call “eternal fire insurance.”

Plus, Christians often focus exclusively on the promise of Heaven and the guarantees of personal peace and happiness.

But this over simplified sales pitch bypasses the real call of Christ.  Jesus said “Take up your cross daily and follow me.”  That doesn't sound too much like the salvation invitation given by many evangelicals.   Philippians 1:29 “For it has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for Him.”

We  OUGHT to expect trials and persecution and pain and loss—and all of this just for acknowledging our stand with Christ.

Our well-intentioned but theologically stunted sales commitment to eternal fire insurance brings with it the unintentional side effect of minimizing Christ's suffering—and ours.

Let's remember--Jesus did not experience a whip without sting, or a cross without nails.  Apparently, the cross has so long been a mere wall decoration in churches, or jewelry on our necklaces, we have sanitized from it all traces of sputum, blood, and shredded human tissue.

The words of Dietrich Bonheoffer come to mind:  "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die."

It's time to stop selling eternal fire insurance.  It's time we called people to follow Christ in His fullness--wherever that takes us.