Open Letter To Dave Dummitt, Incoming Pastor At Willow Creek

We don’t know each other, but my friend Tom Chilton was a classmate of yours at Wheaton College, and he holds you in high regard, and since Tom is one of the greatest people I know, I accept as my own his favorable impression. Peace and goodwill to you.

I see that in June you will be installed as Senior Pastor of Willow Creek, which has probably been the most influential church in the world over the past few decades. It is a great responsibility and burden to serve there, and my prayers are with you.

I want to help in the only way I know how, by writing out some thoughts that I will organize under three headings. I know this is presumptuous, because I have no standing by which I might assume the right to encourage or admonish you. I write not as a man of consequence but as a sheep who cannot resist the urge to bleat. Here are three things that I believe will be important in your ministry:

1. Remember that you step into the shoes of unregenerate men.

“By their fruits you shall know them,” Jesus said (Matthew 7:16). Your predecessor and founder of Willow Creek (and chief mover behind a global revolution in church practice), Bill Hybels, bore the bad fruit of sexual harassment accompanied by lies and lies and more lies. Although his predatory behavior only became known publicly in the last two years, it persisted for decades and was a characteristic of the man rather than a momentary lapse. To this day he has not acknowledged wrongdoing, or repented, or subjected himself to the discipline of supervised restoration to Christian fellowship.

Jesus said that a good tree cannot bear bad fruit (Luke 6:43). Bill Hybels is a bad tree. As a preacher you know all the relevant Bible verses, like the ones about impostor tares (Matthew 13:24-30) and bad fish (Matthew 13:47-50), and the warnings that sexually immoral people will not inherit the kingdom of God (1 Corinthians 6:9-10; Galatians 5:19-21; Ephesians 5:5).

A few months ago the news got worse. The other founder of Willow Creek, its theological architect Dr. Gilbert Bilezikian, was also revealed to be a sexual harasser. Though he likewise denied wrongdoing, subsequent investigation proved him to be a lying cad, and Wheaton College rightly rescinded his title as Professor Emeritus.

As the man selected to succeed them, your role is not like that of Arthur Pierson, who followed Charles Spurgeon at the Metropolitan Tabernacle, or J. Glyn Owen, who followed Martyn Lloyd-Jones at Westminster. You are Matthias, to whom the lot fell when it came time to replace Judas Iscariot (Acts 1:26).

Hybels and Bilezikian betrayed Jesus Christ. Do not regard them as brothers. Whether you say this out loud you must know it in your heart, and conduct your ministry in a way that makes plain that you have comprehended this bitter truth. Do not honor the legacy of your predecessors, but warn your flock about the way that leads to destruction. Never hint at reconciliation with unrepentant hearts of darkness. “What fellowship does Christ have with Belial?” (2 Corinthians 6:15). The apostles of Jesus did not enshrine the memory of Judas’s better days. They did not mildly suggest that it might have been nice if he had gone out on a better note.

And how will you call people to Christ in a setting like this? The spiritual terrain has thrown a great boulder in your path. You’re a preacher. You command souls to (here there are a thousand phrases for it) trust Christ, be born again, enter the kingdom, become children of God, accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior, surrender to Christ as Leader and Forgiver, receive the gospel, etc. But at Willow Creek, underlying each such invitation will be the unspoken message: “This you must believe, and this you must become, unlike the founders of this church, whom you trusted but whose behavior revealed that they themselves were never truly born again.” I imagine there will be sober moments and quivering silence when you preach from texts like “Without holiness no one will see the Lord” (Hebrews 12:14); “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:8); and “Your righteous must exceed that of the Pharisees” (Matthew 5:20).

You and I both know that when we stand before the judgment seat of Christ, it will not matter that we have pastored a church, or founded a megachurch, or even catalyzed a globally explosive megachurch movement. All will be uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must render an account (Hebrews 4:13). Many of the last will be first, and the first last (Matthew 19:30). We also know that Jesus will say to some confident Christian leaders on that day, “I never knew you. Depart from me you workers of iniquity” (Matthew 7:23). God alone knows to whom he will say that. God forbid it should be you or I.

2. Know that you shepherd an undiscerning congregation.

A pastor ought not insult his flock. (Except, perhaps, when he has no choice – as when St. Paul ripped into the churches at Galatia and Corinth.) We must lead gently, patiently, and, like our Lord, never break a bruised reed or snuff out a smoldering wick. But pastoral kindness must not be allowed to stifle galling truths. And it is a galling truth that the long-standing congregation at Willow Creek has been brutally compromised. I can prove that by the following.

Go to YouTube and watch the clip of Bill Hybels leading an ovation for Gilbert Bilezikian at the United Center in Chicago at Willow Creek’s 40th anniversary celebration. (I’m afraid I can’t link to the clip here, but it is very easy to find.) During that extravaganza, Hybels asked everyone to stand as he lauded what he called “our one and only true legend from Willow Creek Church.” Chicago Bulls' theme music played, shafts of light beamed across the darkened stadium, a huge banner of Bilezikian’s image unfurled from the rafters, and a spotlight picked out the man himself as raucous cheers erupted from thousands.

This gaudy elevation of a man is so alien to the spirit of Christ that it is unrecognizable as Christianity. It belongs in the realm of paganism, not Christendom. Delicate characterizations like “inappropriate” or “a bit over the top” will not do here: this was a stomach-turning monstrosity. Denounce it for what it is, a vile, putrid, demonic, idolatrous stench in the nostrils of God.

It would be uncharitable - and certainly wrong - to say that no true Christian participated in that ceremony or remained in the church afterward. But it is entirely accurate to say that no spiritually discerning Christian remained at Willow Creek after that. How could they? How could any Spirit-filled person who loves Jesus and whose mind is saturated with Holy Scripture stay in a church that produces such an abomination in public?

The congregation you inherit – at least with regard to those who have been at Willow Creek for some years – witnessed what you just saw on YouTube and did not flee in sorrow and disgust and outrage. Unless the core at Willow Creek has matured dramatically in the past few years, then (I don't know a feelings-sparing way of saying this) they are spiritually infantile. The mature in Christ all said “Enough is enough” a long time ago.

I do not envy you. Your task is humanly impossible. Infants can grow, fools can learn wisdom, sleepers can awaken, and the deceived can be enlightened. But it is a hard, hard process, and it will take time and prayer and patience and many tears to build a clear-springing fountain atop the contaminated groundwater of Willow Creek.

3. Preach the Word.

“Preach the Word” – well, that’s obvious, isn’t it? So let me be specific with a practical suggestion.

Let the very first words out of your mouth the moment you assume the pulpit at Willow Creek be “Our Scripture text is” and then read the text. When you are done reading it, say “This is the Word of God,” and then start preaching from the first verse of your text (For example: "Verse 1 introduces us to a man named Nicodemus...")

Stun the congregation by not introducing yourself. Not even your name. Do not tell us about your wife and kids, your hobbies, what sports teams you root for, how you went to college nearby, how privileged you feel to take on this ministry, how hard it was to say goodbye to your friends in Michigan, what it was like to pack up your belongings, how unprecedented it is to begin serving in the wake of a pandemic, how thankful you are to the elders for their faithful service during these challenging times. And so and so on. None of that. Bite your lip till it bleeds to keep yourself from indulging in that typically wearisome blather.

I know that what I am saying seems radical to the point of insanity. But I press the point nonetheless. Take everything that every new pastor of a big church has ever said in his opening comments, throw it in a garbage can, kick it a thousand miles away, and just start preaching the Word. Rivet in your mind the words of St. Paul when he arrived in Corinth: “I resolved to know nothing among you but Jesus Christ and him crucified” (I Corinthians 2:2). Also the plea of some Greeks who said to Philip, “We want to see Jesus” (John 12:21). Not you. Jesus.

Willow Creek does not need leadership. It needs the Word of God faithfully preached and sincerely lived out in the lives of proclaimers who seek to magnify Christ while maintaining an invisibility through which he can shine.

God be with you.

Imagine the Vacuity of Celebrity Religion

Many years ago I heard a young seminarian preach a sermon where he told us how great his dad was, and as evidence of the man’s goodness he said, “I know that Dad loves me so much that he would even lay down his life for me.” He got emotional as he said that, so I figured it would have been uncharitable of me to tell him afterward, “Look, any father would give up his life for his child. How despicable would a man have to be NOT to do that? Only an evil coward would refuse to die for his son! All you really said there was that your dad is a minimally decent human being.” I also did not deliver the knockout blow (recalling the old playground taunt “My-dad-can-beat-up-your-dad”) with, “Maybe your dad would have died for you, but my dad would have died for a stranger.”

(Rest in God, Lowell David Lundquist)

The memory of that sermon came to mind a few days ago as I watched Gal Gadot’s spliced-together video of celebrities singing John Lennon’s “Imagine.” It’s their secular “Amazing Grace,” and I think they mean it to be comforting. I’m not a fan of the song, which is no surprise given that I’m a Christian and the song launches its attack on Christianity from the get-go with the words “Imagine there’s no heaven.” But that’s not the only problem with the song. “Imagine all the people living for today,” Lennon wrote. Actually I don’t have to imagine that – I see it all the time. In fact, a few weeks ago we all saw images of lots and lots of young people “living for today” on the beaches of Florida - spring breakers partying hard and brutally ignoring tomorrow’s potentially lethal consequences for themselves and countless others.

Let me be blunt (because nuance is dull, and, in this case, inappropriate): “Living for today” is selfish, contemptible, irresponsible and cruel. People who “live for today” are as despicable as men who won’t give their lives for their children. Wise, kind, compassionate and good individuals live for tomorrow. They consider the consequences of their actions in the moment and govern their behavior (even to the point of curbing powerful personal impulses) for the sake of future good - even the good of generations yet unborn. Living for today is Satanic.

Not that being Satanic was much of an issue for the Lennonists on the beaches of Florida. They don’t believe in Satan, nor in a “hell below us” where the consequences of wickedness might follow them past the grave.

I won’t bother contending with Lennon’s dream of a future where there’s “no religion, too.” Atheists Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins think that religion is very bad for humanity while atheists Jonathan Haidt and Matthew Parris think it is very good. I’ll sit on the sidelines and let atheists go at each other with that in-house debate. For me the issue is simpler: if the Christian religion is true then I’ll hold on to it even if it’s bad for me; if it’s false, then I’ll discard it even if it is more useful than sliced bread and more pleasant than conjugal embrace.

But I would like to aim my guns at a line in the song that is easily passed over – in fact I hadn’t given it any thought myself until alerted to it by some preacher:

Nothing to kill or die for

Nothing to kill for? Sounds good to me. Sign me up for that future. I never want to kill anybody or feel that I have to. But nothing to die for? That’s another story. That’s completely different.

Imagine being so devoid of love that there was no one for whom you would lay down your life. Not even your own son or daughter! Imagine a life so empty of purpose that there was no cause for which you would put your life in jeopardy. Heroes through the ages have put their lives in play, and sometimes lost them, because they were courageously (and even joyously!) devoted to something greater than themselves. From Nathan Hale, who before his execution was reported to have said, “I regret that I have but one life to give for my country,” to the firemen who rushed toward the inferno of the World Trade Center, to present-day health care workers who battle Covid-19, we rightly celebrate those who “love not their lives unto death” but who offer them up for the sake of a good beyond their own.

Of course one might say, “But Paul, you yourself would say that in heaven there’s nothing to die for!” Right – but remember, John Lennon didn’t believe in heaven. His song starts off with the premise that there is no such place. This world - however enlightened and woke - is the sum-total best of what a Lennonite could ever hope for. And in this world, there is death.

As long as we live in a world with death, there will be things (and people) that good and worthy individuals will die for. They will volunteer to lose their lives so that others won't. They will say, for example, “As the respirators run short, please give mine to somebody else.”

Lennon’s dream of having nothing to die for places oneself at the center of the universe - makes of oneself a king whose life is of absolute value and must not be sacrificed for anything or anyone. This elevation of self and consequent devaluation of everything else is cold, loveless, selfish and sad. Do yourself a favor, and do not imagine into existence a hellish future where you seat yourself on a throne of your own contrivance and would not descend from it to sacrifice yourself even to save the world. On this Good Friday, take instead, into your deepest mind and soul, the humbling truth that the only real King of the universe did in fact step down from his throne in order to die on behalf of selfish sinners who were doing their best to imagine him away.