THE CHURCH, THE BRIDE, AND THE LIE WE TELL OURSELVES

By Andre Eksteen

People often accuse me of being anti-church, but that is only because it is a conversation most Christians avoid. 

I’ve been called divisive. Negative. Bitter. Even dangerous. Some say I’m attacking what God is building. Others say I’m tearing down faith instead of strengthening it. I’ve heard it all. And for a long time, I tried explaining myself in short replies, comments, and messages — but that never works. You can’t dismantle a lifetime of assumptions in a paragraph.

So instead of defending myself again, I’ve decided to do something different.

I’m going to share a conversation.

Not a sermon.

Not a debate.

Not a theological lecture.

A conversation.

The person I’m speaking to is fictional. Her name is Victoria. In reality Victoria is our beloved Douche Hound, but that’s only said to prove this is a fictional character and not a real person’s name. But the questions she asks are very real. They’re the same questions I get every week — sometimes gently, sometimes angrily, sometimes with real fear underneath them.

Victoria represents sincere Christians. People who love God. People who go to church. People who read their Bibles. People who feel that something is wrong, but can’t quite put their finger on it.

This conversation is for them.

And if you feel uncomfortable while reading it, that’s not an accident.

Victoria:

Andre, I want to ask you something, and I’m going to be honest. Every time you write about “the church”, it sounds like you’re attacking it. I know you say you’re not, but it feels anti-church.

Me:

I appreciate you being straight. Most people aren’t. They just label me and move on.

Let me ask you something first, before I answer you. When you say “the church”, what do you mean?

Victoria:

Well… churches. Congregations. Denominations. The body of believers. The whole thing.

Me:

That right there is the problem. That word has become a fog.

When I speak about the church, I’m not talking about buildings, denominations, leadership structures, worship styles, or systems. I’m talking about the biblical definition of the church.

And the Bible is very clear.

The church is people.

Every person who calls themselves a Christian.

No distance.

No abstraction.

No hiding place.

If you call yourself a Christian, you are part of the church. So am I.

Victoria:

But surely that’s unfair. There are faithful believers. Loving people. Churches that are genuinely trying.

Me:

I’m not denying that. I’m removing the excuse.

The church is not an institution we can criticise from the outside or defend from a distance. It’s not “them”. It’s us.

And the moment you realise that, everything changes. Because now you can’t say, “The church is wrong,” without asking, “Where do I stand in this?”

That’s why people get uncomfortable. Because once the church stops being a system and starts being a mirror, things get personal very quickly.

Victoria:

But Christianity has always been about community. Fellowship. Walking together.

Me:

Yes. But never first.

God does not call us first into a social relationship. He calls us into a personal one — with Him.

Not a group identity.

Not a shared culture.

Not a church experience.

A personal, accountable walk.

You will not stand before God one day with your small group next to you. You won’t answer as a team. You won’t say, “But we all believed this together.”

You will stand alone.

Your relationship with God cannot be borrowed. It cannot be transferred. It cannot be replaced by fellowship.

Community matters — but it is secondary. Obedience is primary. Personal surrender is primary. Always has been.

Victoria:

That sounds harsh. Almost isolating.

Me:

It sounds harsh because modern Christianity has trained us to hide behind each other.

We’ve replaced accountability with belonging. We’ve replaced obedience with activity. We’ve replaced surrender with identity.

We feel safe because we’re surrounded by people who believe the same things — but safety is not the same as obedience.

And here’s where it starts to sting.

When I speak to “the church”, I’m speaking to every Christian for whom the shoe fits.

If it doesn’t fit, fine. Walk on.

But if it pinches — good.

Because sometimes pain is the only thing that makes a person stop and ask:

“Am I actually walking the narrow road… or am I just moving with the crowd?”

This isn’t an attack.

It’s a mirror.

And mirrors offend only those who don’t like what they see.

Victoria:

You keep talking about this narrow road. Are you saying most Christians are on the wrong path?

Me:

I’m saying what Jesus said.

And this is where we have to be brutally honest with Scripture — not with church tradition, not with sermons we like, not with what makes us feel safe.

The Bible never presents the church and the bride of Christ as the same thing.

That idea comes from modern teaching, not from Scripture.

The bride is not the whole church.

The bride is a small part of the church.

Victoria:

That’s a big claim.

Me:

It’s not my claim. It’s Jesus’.

Jesus speaks about many who call Him “Lord” — and few who obey Him.

He speaks about a broad road where many walk, and a narrow road where few walk.

Both groups are religious.

Both groups use God’s Name.

Both groups believe they’re heading for life.

But only one group does the will of the Father.

The narrow road is the bride.

The broad road is the church.

That’s not an insult.

It’s a warning.

Victoria:

But that feels elitist. Like you’re saying only a special group makes it.

Me:

No. Elitism is thinking you’re safe because you belong to the right group.

Jesus didn’t describe the narrow road as exclusive. He described it as costly.

Few walk it not because they’re not allowed — but because they don’t want to pay the price.

Victoria:

Alright. Let’s talk about prayer then. You often say we shouldn’t be praying for things to be delayed. But God is patient. Surely praying for more time — for people to wake up — is a good thing?

Me:

God is patient. But patience has seasons.

Scripture shows moments where repentance delayed judgement. Jeremiah is a good example. Nineveh is another.

But not every season works the same way.

Even Jesus understood that.

In Gethsemane, Jesus prays, “If it is possible, let this cup pass from Me.” There was a moment where delay could be asked for.

But He also knew something else.

The warning phase had ended.

The hour had come.

What was written had to be fulfilled.

So He doesn’t pray for cancellation.

He prays: “Not My will, but Yours be done.”

That prayer didn’t stop the cross.

It opened the way to it.

Victoria:

But that led to salvation.

Me:

Exactly. Through obedience.

The cross began the age of grace. Nearly two thousand years of mercy, invitation, patience, and warning.

But grace didn’t pause history.

It started a countdown.

Every clock ticks for a fixed time.

And here’s the part we avoid saying out loud.

We are not standing at the beginning of that clock anymore.

Victoria:

You really believe we’re that close?

Me:

We crossed into fulfilment territory in 1948, with the restoration of Israel.

That’s not speculation. That’s a prophetic marker.

From that moment, history shifted.

From “if you do not listen”

to “this will happen as written.”

Jesus Himself says that once certain things begin, they are not reversed. Not because God stops loving — but because God is faithful to His word.

God does not cancel His own prophecies because people feel uncomfortable.

Victoria:

So what does that mean for prayer today?

Me:

It means our prayers must change.

Not because God has changed — but because time has.

We don’t pray, “Lord, cancel what You’ve said.”

We pray, “Let Your will be done.”

Exactly as Jesus did.

Not from fear.

From obedience.

That prayer isn’t gentle. It isn’t safe. It isn’t comfortable.

But it is the only honest prayer once fulfilment begins.

Victoria:

But doesn’t that remove hope? Doesn’t it mean people lose their chance?

Me:

No. It removes collective delay, not personal choice.

Every individual still has time to repent. Now. Today.

The door of personal repentance is still open.

What is closing is the illusion that the whole system gets more time because people aren’t ready.

When people pray for delay now, it’s often not because they want to repent — but because they don’t want to change.

Delay becomes a spiritual hiding place.

A way to keep what God has already told you to let go of.

Victoria:

That feels harsh.

Me:

Jesus was clear about this.

Persistent refusal reaches a point where God hands people over — not as punishment, but as consequence.

When light is rejected, blindness follows.

When truth is refused, deception is allowed.

God does not force obedience.

But He also does not chase rebellion forever.

God is not a beggar.

Victoria:

Is that why you write so strongly? Why you don’t soften things?

Me:

Yes.

Because the time for soothing words has passed.

I don’t write to keep people comfortable. I write to wake them up.

To break illusions.

To force honesty.

Those who hear and turn — I thank God for them. That’s why I keep writing.

Those who don’t — Jesus already gave instructions. Shake the dust off your feet and move on.

Not out of hatred.

Out of truth.

No one ends up lost by accident.

Condemnation is a choice, not a surprise.

Victoria:

You’ve said before that not all Christians will be taken — that only a small group will be. Are you serious about that?

Me:

Completely.

The Bible does not teach a global end-time revival.

It teaches a great falling away.

It teaches widespread deception.

It teaches a small remnant that remains awake.

Only the bride is taken.

Not the whole church.

The rest — yes, including many church-going Christians — go through the Tribulation.

They are not taken.

They do not receive glorified bodies.

They do not reign with Christ.

Not because God is unfair.

But because He does exactly what He said He would do.

The rapture is not an automatic right.

It is a reward for obedience.

Victoria:

That’s frightening.

Me:

It’s not meant to frighten.

It’s meant to clarify.

Prayer today is not about stopping prophecy.

Prayer today is about not being deceived.

And that brings us to something even harder to accept.

Scripture says deception is allowed because people did not love the truth.

This isn’t demons hijacking innocent believers.

This is believers who heard — but refused to obey.

And God gives them what they chose.

Victoria:

So the problem isn’t really the world?

Me:

No.

It’s inside the church.

People hear, but they don’t do.

Church attendance, Bible studies, small groups — none of these are obedience.

They can accompany obedience.

But they can never replace it.

The greatest deception of our time is thinking proximity to religious activity equals obedience to Christ.

It doesn’t.

Jesus never said, “Go to church and feel right.”

He said, “Follow Me.”

Victoria:

So what does obedience actually look like?

Me:

Jesus was painfully clear.

Repent.

Turn.

Leave sin.

Follow Me.

Carry your cross daily.

Remain in Me.

Keep My words.

Be faithful to the end.

And then He asks a question that should terrify every comfortable Christian:

“Why do you call Me Lord, Lord, and do not do what I say?”

Obedience isn’t emotion.

It isn’t atmosphere.

It isn’t activity.

It’s doing what Jesus says — especially when it costs you.

Victoria:

And making disciples?

Me:

Exactly.

Not converts.

Not church members.

Disciples.

People taught to obey.

That kind of obedience is active. Costly. Uncompromising.

Jesus never softened truth to keep crowds.

He let people walk away.

Our calling is not to be liked.

It’s to be faithful.

Victoria:

Then where is the true church?

Me:

It’s not a place.

It’s not a movement.

It’s not a denomination.

It’s you.

You are the church.

You are the temple.

Not symbolically.

Responsibly.

God has never worked through the masses.

He works through the obedient.

Every person decides whether they are the bride — or merely close enough to feel safe.

Victoria:

If what you’re saying is true, then most of what we call “church life” is… what? A distraction?

Me:

Not always a distraction. But very often a substitute.

And substitutes are dangerous, because they look close enough to the real thing to fool you.

Church life, as we practise it today, can be helpful. It can encourage. It can teach. It can bring people together. I’m not denying any of that. But here’s the uncomfortable truth we don’t want to face:

None of those things automatically produce obedience.

You can sit under teaching for decades and never obey a single hard instruction Jesus gave. You can be surrounded by worship, community, and spiritual language, and still live in direct disobedience — comfortably.

Modern Christianity has perfected the art of being busy with God while remaining untouched by Him.

Victoria:

That feels like an accusation.

Me:

It’s an observation.

Look at the fruit. Not the language. Not the activity. The fruit.

We have churches full of people who know the right words, quote the right verses, sing the right songs — but won’t let go of sin, won’t forgive, won’t repent, won’t separate from what God has clearly said is wrong.

And when that gets challenged, they don’t ask, “Is this true?”

They ask, “Who are you to say this?”

Which tells you everything you need to know.

Victoria:

But surely grace covers us? We’re not saved by obedience.

Me:

That sentence right there has done more damage than most heresies.

We are not saved by obedience — but we are saved unto obedience.

Grace does not replace obedience. Grace enables it.

Grace is not permission to remain as you are. Grace is power to change.

If grace leaves you unchanged, then what you’ve received isn’t biblical grace — it’s religious sedation.

Grace without transformation is not grace. It’s deception.

Victoria:

So you believe many Christians are deceived?

Me:

The Bible says that.

Not me.

Jesus says deception will be so strong that, if possible, even the elect would be deceived. Paul warns repeatedly about believers being misled. Revelation is written almost entirely to churches — not to atheists — warning them to repent, wake up, or be removed.

Deception at the end of the age isn’t primarily “out there”.

It’s in the church.

And here’s the part that cuts deepest:

Most deception doesn’t come from false information.

It comes from selective obedience.

People obey the parts of Jesus’ teaching that don’t cost them much — and quietly ignore the rest.

Victoria:

What do you mean by “cost”?

Me:

I mean anything that threatens comfort, reputation, relationships, income, security, or identity.

Jesus doesn’t ask for small adjustments. He asks for surrender.

“Take up your cross.”

That’s not poetic language. That’s an execution image.

It means the death of self-rule.

And that’s exactly where most Christians draw the line.

They want Jesus as Saviour — but not as Lord.

They want forgiveness — but not obedience.

They want heaven — but not transformation.

And the tragedy is, they’ve been told that’s enough.

Victoria:

So where did it go wrong?

Me:

When we replaced discipleship with decision-making.

At some point, the gospel was reduced to a moment instead of a life. Say the prayer. Sign the card. Make the decision.

But Jesus never said, “Make decisions.”

He said, “Make disciples.”

And He defines what a disciple is: someone who learns to obey everything He commanded.

That’s ongoing. Costly. Daily.

The moment we stopped teaching obedience, we started producing consumers instead of followers.

Victoria:

Consumers?

Me:

Yes. People who shop for experiences.

They choose churches based on comfort, music, children’s programmes, atmosphere, personality. And when something challenges them too deeply, they leave.

Jesus didn’t run His ministry like that.

When people didn’t like what He said, He didn’t soften it. He didn’t chase them. He turned to the twelve and asked, “Will you also go?”

That question still stands.

Victoria:

So what about love? Isn’t this approach lacking love?

Me:

No. It’s lacking tolerance for deception.

Love tells the truth even when it costs relationships.

Jesus loved people enough to offend them. We love people just enough to keep them comfortable.

Real love doesn’t protect people from the truth — it protects them from lies.

And here’s the irony: the moment you stop lying to people, they accuse you of being unloving.

Victoria:

You speak a lot about judgement and consequence. Doesn’t that contradict grace?

Me:

Only if you’ve been taught a version of grace that Scripture doesn’t support.

Grace does not erase consequence. It offers escape from judgement — if received properly.

But grace rejected becomes judgement.

Jesus weeps over Jerusalem, not because judgement is unfair, but because they refused what could have saved them.

Judgement is not God losing patience.

Judgement is God honouring human choice.

Victoria:

So where does that leave us now?

Me:

In a very narrow place.

Between truth and comfort.

Between obedience and convenience.

Between the crowd and the cross.

And here’s the part most people don’t want to hear:

You cannot prepare for what’s coming while clinging to what God has already told you to let go of.

End-time readiness is not about knowledge. It’s about obedience.

You can understand prophecy and still miss the Bridegroom.

Victoria:

That sounds terrifying again.

Me:

Only if you’re trying to hold on to two worlds at once.

For those who are surrendered, it’s clarifying. Even freeing.

The fear disappears when compromise dies.

Victoria:

So what should believers be doing now?

Me:

Three things. And none of them are glamorous.

First: personal repentance.

Not vague apologies. Not general prayers. Specific repentance. Specific obedience.

What has God already spoken to you about — that you’ve delayed, justified, or ignored?

Start there.

Second: daily obedience.

Not dramatic gestures. Daily faithfulness. Quiet decisions. Unseen choices.

Obedience when no one is watching. That’s where the Bride is formed.

Third: disciple-making.

Not recruiting people to church. Teaching people to obey Jesus.

That means truth without dilution. Love without compromise. Courage without apology.

Victoria:

That sounds lonely.

Me:

It is.

Jesus never promised the narrow road would be crowded.

But you’re never alone on it.

God has always preserved a remnant. Quiet. Faithful. Unimpressive by the world’s standards.

That’s how He’s always worked.

Victoria:

So you’re not saying everyone in churches is lost?

Me:

No.

I’m saying proximity is not proof.

I’m saying sincerity is not enough.

I’m saying activity does not equal obedience.

And I’m saying that the coming separation will shock many who assumed they were safe.

Victoria:

Then why do so many leaders avoid talking about this?

Me:

Because it empties buildings.

Because it costs platforms.

Because it exposes compromise — including their own.

Truth is expensive.

Comfort is profitable.

And most people choose profit.

Victoria:

That’s bleak.

Me:

It’s honest.

But here’s the part that still gives me hope.

Every generation has had people who heard the warning and responded.

Not the majority. Never the majority.

But enough.

Enough for God to continue His work.

Enough to carry truth forward.

Enough to be the bride.

Victoria:

So this isn’t about attacking the church.

Me:

No.

It’s about calling the church back to what it was always meant to be.

Not a crowd.

Not a culture.

Not a system.

But a people who obey God — whatever the cost.

Victoria:

And if people reject that?

Me:

Then they’ve made their choice.

God does not force love.

He invites it.

And He honours the answer.

Victoria:

I think I understand now why people accuse you of being anti-church.

Me:

Yes. Because I refuse to flatter an illusion.

I’m not anti-church.

I’m anti-lie.

And the biggest lie we tell ourselves is that we can call Jesus “Lord” without doing what He says.

That lie is about to be exposed.

Not by my writing.

By reality.

This is not a message of fear.

It’s a message of clarity.

The narrow road is still open.

The call is still going out.

The Bride is still being prepared.

But no one stumbles into obedience by accident.

The question is not whether the church is ready.

The question is whether you are.

And that answer will be revealed — not by what you believe,

but by how you live.