Conforming to boundary markers too often substitutes for authentic transformation.
The church I grew up in had its boundary markers. A prideful or resentful pastor could have kept his job, but if ever the pastor was caught smoking a cigarette, he would’ve been fired. Not because anyone in the church actually thought smoking a worse sin than pride or resentment, but because smoking defined who was in our subculture and who wasn’t—it was a boundary marker.
As I was growing up, having a “quiet time” became a boundary marker, a measure of spiritual growth. If someone had asked me…
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