Writer: Chris Ahrens
High Desert Church is located where the name implies, in the high desert, in a tumbleweed connection Southern California town called Victorville. Actually, that’s how I had imagined the town, but it too has benefited and suffered from a uniformity that has spread across this nation and beyond, leading us to generic architecture, familiar brand names, and more distance from each other.
    As I turned onto the main street of town, it was easy to spot the big, multi-tiered church. This was surely a place to get lost among the many rooms and throngs of Sunday worshipers. And, there was nothing to suggest any more warmth would be generated here than at a public library. But as I walked up the sidewalk, there to greet me were senior pastor Tom Mercer and his wife Sheryl. If you read further you will discover that this friendly and simple act is one manifestation of the Greek word oikos, which English would clumsily translate into something like “extended family.”
    The idea is really quite simple. Everyone has eight to fifteen people they are close to—these are the ones you work with, play with, and, it is hoped, pray for and lead to Christ and into a life of discipleship.
    After speaking with Pastor Tom, I made a list of my own oikos and prayed for them. Once I did that, something unexpected happened—I felt relief. You see, like many of you I had always figured I had to evangelize to everyone I ever saw. Eight to fifteen people—I should be able to manage that in a lifetime.

Risen Magazine: Many spiritual ideas are too complex to be implemented by the masses.
Tom Mercer: Yes, we always migrate toward complexity. We can’t begin to understand the complexity of God, so He speaks to us in such simple terms, with simple ideas, but we’ll find a way to make it much more complicated than it should be. [Laughs] I’ve often said that if left to its own devices, a church will default to doctrinal controversy and structural complexity.

RM: How do you see your role as pastor of a big church?
TM: The word pastor in Greek means shepherd. My job is to shepherd the flock. Most of the guys I was mentored by saw that as a call to guarding the flock from heresy, which is really important. But I see my role also as protecting my flock from complexity and distractions. It’s not just sex and drugs and rock ’n’ roll we need protection them from, but from ourselves. We will look in so many directions and fill our schedules with so much…
RM: Isn’t that the great Protestant virtue, business?
TM: Oh yeah. People respect my business. [Laughs] When they say, “Got a minute, I know you’re busy,” I always say, “I’m no more busy than you are; we’re just doing different things.” I think Jesus wants us to be very busy, but about those few things that are part of His priority list. I think that many denominations are becoming increasingly irrelevant and less efficient. I think it’s because we’ve dumped so much on our plates. When people call to see if you want to get involved in something, it’s not Christian to say no. When folks ask me to participate in a program, I say, No, I won’t. I have to be more concerned about the most important things.

RM: It can lead to the problems of a “pastor’s kid.”
TM: You’re right. I am a “PK.” I grew up in ministry. I know what you’re referring to, that a pastor can get so consumed with ministry that their kids can become rebellious. They can take it out on their parents, or on God, if that’s possible. Then they rebel for the rest of their lives, or for a season in their lives.

RM: So what keeps a Christian focused?
TM: By definition you can’t be a Christ follower unless you are passionately following Christ. You know when you’re following Christ, cuz He said He came to one group, lost people. He came to seek and save those who are lost. We think we’re Christ followers cuz we’re theologically pure, or we want to be. Jesus was theologically pure long before His incarnation. Jesus came because people were dying in their sins and were lost.

RM: One of the biggest mysteries of Christianity is that Jesus became a man for us. I mean, He didn’t become more God when He did that. I doubt if He would have gone on a 50,000 year guilt trip if He wouldn’t have done it.
TM: I talked to a guy the other day that was heartbroken because he has lost the love of his life. God had lost the love of His life. The guy was broken and in tears and asked, What can I do? I basically said, There’s nothing you can do. But with God there was something He could do. “God so loved the world He sent His only Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” [John 3:16]

RM: So what is the church here for?
TM: Is the church here to worship God? Yes, but it’s not the primary purpose. If it was, we’d all be dead. When we die, worship will become pure. You can’t even go to church without being distracted. You want to hear from the pastor, but he might invert a word in a sentence, or he might say something a little out of whack, or the music’s too loud, or it’s not loud enough. Even our best efforts are tainted. Some say the purpose of the church is fellowship, but even fellowship is tainted by sin. You can’t do anything better here than you’ll be able to do in heaven, except share Christ, cuz there won’t be anyone in heaven that doesn’t know the Lord.
    The way I’ve always looked at it is that the purpose of the church can’t be something we are better at when the church doesn’t exist anymore. It has to be something we can only do now.

RM: What can we do now?
TM: Oikos is a great equalizer in the church, because everybody, rich or poor, has about eight to fifteen people they have influence with. If you have a terminal disease, you have eight to fifteen. If you’re healthy, if you’re short, if you’re tall, if you’re skinny, if you’re a Lutheran or a Catholic, you have eight to fifteen. That’s the beautiful thing about oikos, it removes the hierarchy from ministry. Now, there are officers in the church, but I am the senior pastor, which means I have been here longer than anybody—my job is no different than the guy who empties wastebaskets after church. I have eight to fifteen, he has eight to fifteen, and I will probably never know them. Well, guess what? We’re equal in this process. We just have a different job to do, but that’s not where esteem comes from. Esteem doesn’t come from position, it comes from purpose. I’ve known a lot of senior executives that have low esteem, because they have success but no significance. I’ve meet a lot of janitors who can hardly wait to wake up each morning, because they know exactly what they’re doing here, because God loves us all and calls us to mini