Jesus Did Not Build a Church
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
In The Princess Bride, everyone laughs — and then realizes Inigo is right.
“Inconceivable” has been doing all kinds of work it was never meant to do.
The same is true of church.
https://t.co/xoy9BJvyck
@EricLDaugh The DOJ is not a fourth branch of government. It is an executive department, exercising executive power under a President elected by the people. In a republic, power must ultimately answer to the electorate.
The Good King Isn't Good - And the Bad King Isn't the Point
How 1 Kings exposes the absurdity of grading rulers, and why our pastor-obsession repeats the same ancient mistake
https://t.co/9eEP13fRlo
The Silence of the Anointed
2 Samuel 13:21–22
“King David heard the whole story and was enraged, but he didn’t discipline Amnon. David doted on him because he was his firstborn. Absalom quit speaking to Amnon—not a word, whether good or bad—because he hated him for violating his sister Tamar.”
How familiar this all sounds. A man in power, furious in private but silent in public. The perpetrator protected. The victim forgotten. The institution preserved.
Nothing’s changed.
The pattern
David knows what happened. His own son raped his daughter. The text even says he was “enraged.” But he does nothing.
Why? Because Amnon is the firstborn — the heir, the image of his own power. David’s loyalty is to the dynasty, not to justice.
And that’s the rot of every religious system that confuses blessing with hierarchy. It’s not that leaders stop knowing right from wrong — it’s that they can’t afford to act on it without unraveling the system that keeps them on top.
The silence that kills
David’s passivity births Absalom’s rage. His silence becomes someone else’s violence. The palace that once sang psalms now seethes with resentment, secrecy, and blood.
The narrative doesn’t give us David the worshipper here; it gives us David the protector of image — the “anointed” who can’t discipline his own because he’s built a house that depends on keeping sin quiet.
Tell me that doesn’t sound like the modern church.
The bigger point
We were never meant to have religious rulers — not then, not now. Israel’s whole story is one long argument against it. Because once you install a man in God’s place, the machine will always protect the man. And the victims — the Tamars of the story — will always be told to keep quiet for the good of “the kingdom.”
So when people talk about David’s golden age, remember this scene. Remember the silence. Remember that the supposed “man after God’s own heart” watched his daughter’s tears and said nothing.
And then tell me — if this is what “anointed leadership” looks like, why would we ever want it again?
The real kingdom doesn’t need kings. It needs truth. And truth never protects Amnon to preserve David’s reputation.
Not only has it been demoted in frequency — it’s been dismantled in form.
What was once a shared meal — full of warmth, community, reflection, and joy — has been reduced to a bite-sized symbol passed down aisles like a lifeless ritual.
We’ve turned the table into a tray.
We’ve turned the supper into a ceremony.
We’ve turned the body into an audience.
And we all know why, don’t we?
Because a real meal can’t be controlled from a stage.
Because a real meal invites participation, not performance.
Because a real meal levels everyone — no rank, no robes, just one body, one loaf.
Of course the modern church can’t handle that. It would upend the entire system.
So we shrink it, sanitize it, schedule it quarterly, and call it reverent.
But what we’ve actually done… is forgotten Jesus
It’s Failed. Every Time.
Every time we institutionalize the church into a leadership hierarchy, it rots:
Eli’s sons. Corrupt priests.
Samuel’s sons. Same story.
Saul. Power-hungry.
David. Abuser of power.
Solomon. Enslaved his people.
Even Peter needed rebuking.
The problem isn’t that we haven’t found the right leaders. The problem is that we keep looking for leaders at all.
And we keep getting men instead of Christ.
The Church Doesn't Need Leaders. It Needs Christ.
We are not an organization. We are a body. We are not a movement. We are a new creation.
Stop importing the failed models of empire into the people of God. Start imagining something truly other-worldly.
Because the Church isn’t supposed to look like Egypt or Babylon or Wall Street or the Vatican.
It’s supposed to look like the Cross.
Jesus didn’t train up leaders. He formed disciples.
He didn’t build a leadership pipeline. He broke bread.
He didn’t take charge. He gave himself away.
So why do we keep doing it differently?
Maybe the ecclesia doesn’t need “leaders” at all.
Maybe it just needs Christ—and a people willing to follow him together.
Why Do We Keep Importing "Leadership" into the Church?
It’s failed again and again. Maybe it was never supposed to be there.
You hear it all the time:
"The Church needs strong leaders."
Or:
"God raises up leaders to shepherd His people."
But if we step back—far back—and ask honestly: where do we get the word "leader" in the New Testament?
The answer is: we mostly don’t.
But in Scripture, these roles aren’t about being "in charge"—they’re about serving. About being the first to stoop. The first to suffer. The first to go low.
Paul never says “I’m your leader.” He says:
“What is Paul? A servant... I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth.” (1 Corinthians 3)
Even apostles don’t exercise authority like bosses. They live like brothers.
What If the Ecclesia Was Never Meant to Be Led?
What if it was meant to be embodied?
What if:
The Spirit is the actual leader?
The gifts are distributed to all, not concentrated in one?
The “head” of the body is Christ—not a man with a mic?
That’s what Paul saw. That’s what Acts described. A gathered people, animated by the Spirit, not organized by a boardroom.
“When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation...” (1 Corinthians 14:26)
It’s messier. It’s slower. It doesn’t scale easily.
But maybe that’s the point.