Recently, a guy I once dated popped back into my life unexpectedly. Hard as it will be to believe for some of the folks who once knew me, he was even more extreme a Fundy than I once was, and I hate to say it, but he's become more of an ass than he used to be. (This is perhaps unfair and untrue. I may feel this way because I've become so much more liberal and his conservatism stands out more. By the way, being conservative is fine. This guy is an ass for other reasons, not because he's conservative. There are plenty of wonderful conservatives out there who are most decidedly NOT asses.)
Anyhow, my last posting brought this subject to mind, as did the comments of my Fundy "friend" last week regarding the Emerging Church movement. It's too bad I can't introduce the two of them (my commentator and my ex). They'd hit it off famously. :) The guy I used to date mentioned the Emerging Church and wanted to know if my current church was affiliated with it. I told him I'd never heard the term and that my church was most certainly not a part of it. He then filled me in briefly on what it is these people stand for. Honestly, I still have a pretty vague notion of it all, but one of the things he criticized in the movement is actually something I think they may have right. He spoke of their "humanistic" approach to humanitarian work - namely, the fact that they feed the homeless but don't preach to them over the meal. Call me worldly, but I actually think they might be onto something there.
I talked in my last post about the problem with having an agenda behind forming friendships with non-Christ followers. I should perhaps clarify that in saying that I don't think it's wrong to form relationships with the desire to eventually share Jesus; I just think that loving relationship (being Jesus in the relationship rather than simply preaching Jesus in the relationship) should be our goal. I think this also applies to our humanitarian pursuits. I mean, doesn't it seem a little sketchy to you to use helping a needy person as some sort of manipulative tool to force your religious convictions on them? It kind of reminds me of the time my parents had to sit through a two-hour spiel on timeshares in order to go home with a CD player. All they really wanted and needed was the CD player, but they had to listen to the sales pitch in order to get it. No one likes being in that position, so why is it we force people to listen to our religious sales pitch in order to get a much needed meal and clothes?
I know it sounds like I'm saying that we should just give out the cookies and not share Jesus, but that's not what I'm saying it all. I'm all for sharing Jesus, but I don't think we should force Him on people because they're too needy to do without our help. They're smart enough to see through that kind of bullshit, and frankly I think most of them resent it. It doesn't do our cause any good if people hate us for our message before we ever preach it. We often say that people don't care how much you know until they know how much you care. This is true. But how much do you think these people sense our care when that care is conditional on them choking down a healthy side order of Jesus with the turkey dinner we've served them, especially when they only ordered the turkey? They might be poor, but that doesn't mean they're too dumb to see our agenda. How about we just let them know we're Christ followers and leave it at that for awhile? How about we just love them and love them and help them and listen to them and love them some more? And maybe, just maybe, when we've given them our unconditional love long enough, they'll come to us for Jesus as well as turkey, toys and blankets.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Conversations with an Atheist
I've mentioned my friend and carpool buddy more than once on this blog, and I get the feeling that she's going to pop up fairly often. :) This is because, from time to time, our conversations move beyond the shallow and dip into the personal or profound.
This week we had a discussion about differences in belief - namely, how I can believe in God with as much conviction as she disbelieves. And though our conversation was interesting, I won't detail it here. There are too many personal things shared in these discussions for me to feel comfortable putting them in such a public place. However, I think the driving force behind our conversation was something that should be looked at.
I've often thought that the church as a whole, and Fundyism in particular, lacks the ability to really connect with those who don't agree with it. I think this is partially because religion and spirituality are such personal issues that it's harder to move beyond the differences between us to find our common ground than it is for two people who happen to root for two different teams. But I also think it has to do with the awareness of those differences that the church grinds into people. Add to this the emphasis on soul-winning, and you create a group of people who can't help but see everyone outside their immediate circle of belief through a religious filter. You're either saved or unsaved, easy to relate to or living in a completely different world. There's no room for a middle ground.
On the one hand these views have some truth to them, but I think we need to view our relationships with non-Christ followers differently. I think that seeing our differences in a way that alienates us can't be a good thing, particularly if this creates an "us vs. them" mentality or makes us think we are better. Instead, I think we need to recognize and emphasize our similarities. We are all people walking through this world. We all have grief, pain, joy, trials and fears. We all have weaknesses. We all have the fatal disease of sin (I love how Donald Miller explores this concept in Blue Like Jazz. He describes the sin nature as the fact that we are all flawed and that something in us is broken, making it easier for us to do bad when we know we should do good.). This is true for every man, woman and child who has ever walked this planet. The only difference between the Christian and non-Christian is that the Christian has accepted the antidote for that fatal disease. It's not a perfect cure in this lifetime - meaning that as long as a person lives on this earth, he or she will still have to fight that disease - but it does guarantee that for those who take the antidote, the disease won't be fatal and that before all is said and done, he or she will have a better chance of not giving in to the temptations of that disease. When we can begin to see ourselves as one in that we are all carriers of this same disease, we can begin to find our common ground again.
That being said, I want to focus back in on my conversation with my friend. What I feel was so revoluationary about our conversation was not the fact that it took place. It was the undertone of that conversation. We're certainly not the first atheist and Christ follower to ever discuss our different religious views, but we're in the minority in that our conversation was one in which we sought to come to a place of understanding, not a place of agreement. I think this is crucial. Neither one of us was coming to the conversation with an agenda. I wasn't there to convince her that I'm right and she's wrong, or that she should abandon her beliefs (which she has embraced for legitimate reasons) in favor of mine. I was there to hear her opinion, listen to her perspectives, see through her eyes. I can only presume she was attempting to do the same with me. In short, we were laying the foundations of friendship. We were seeking to know one another better. And because we weren't behaving like two used car salesmen trying to pawn off our beliefs on an unsuspecting sucker, we succeeded. I know her better now. I understand her stance more fully. That doesn't mean I agree with it, but coming to a place of agreement wasn't the objective. The objective was relationship.
I've noticed that the Fundy church only endorses close friendships with unbelievers for the purpose of "winning the lost to Christ." As long as your goal is conversion, it's okay to form bonds with sinners. Otherwise, stay away. They'll only corrupt you. But I think this is wrong. I don't think we should go into the world with a hidden agenda. In fact, I think this well-meaning agenda is poorly hidden, and its existence is one of the reasons we fail so miserably. That's not to say that we shouldn't seek to share Jesus with others. In fact, more and more every year I gain a heart and burden for people who don't know Jesus. I can't help but hope and pray that my friendship with my atheist carpool buddy will plant truth in her that will lead her to Jesus, but my only agenda is loving relationship. In other words, whether she ever embraces Jesus or not, I will love her and offer her my friendship. I'm reaching out to her unconditionally, just as Jesus reaches out to me. After all, how much would you want to be friends with someone if you sensed his real agenda wasn't friendship but an effort to convince you to buy into his Amway upline, or whatever the hell they say? Thanks, but no thanks. When you sense someone is coming into a relationship with an agenda, you can't help but feel that they don't really give a damn about you as a person; they just want you to buy into whatever it is they're selling. Again, no thanks.
Honestly, I think relationship without agenda is more loving, more Christ-like, and more likely to yield honest-to-goodness fruit than the alternative. So that's why I'm trying to come to a place of understanding with my friend. That's why I'm not fighting to convince her that I'm right. That's why I'm not desperate to get her to agree with me. And the payoff? Because I'm willing to listen to her, she's willing to listen to me. Because she gets to share her religious perspectives, I also get the chance to share mine. In other words, I'm sowing seeds. I'm sharing truth, but I'm doing it in a way that gives it a chance to take root and grow. I'm not watering it down, but neither am I throwing it at her like bricks through a window.
I can't help but think that I'm on the right track here, even if I'm still groping my way through the dark. A day or two after our conversation she came to me and shared a very personal concern she and her husband are dealing with. She hasn't chosen to share it with anyone else, and I can't tell you how honored I was that she would entrust it to me. And as we talked last week, she said something that touched me so deeply. She told me that she doesn't feel she has to censor herself with me. She can be real with me and not put up a front or be fake. The only other person in her life she feels that kind of freedom with is her husband. To be honest, that blows me away. To be given such a thing from another human being is truly a gift, and it tells me that somehow, in all my faulty attempts and in this blind searching to find a balance between authentic faith, friendship, and sharing Jesus, I've managed to be Jesus to this woman. I've managed to offer her the same safety He offers me - a place to go where I don't have to censor myself or pretend I'm something that I'm not. It doesn't mean He agrees with me on everything, but He offers me that safety and that unconditional love.
I know there's a balance to this. I know that I have to be prepared for the possibility that I may speak the truth and offend. That's the nature of truth, I'm afraid. I freely admit that I haven't got this all right or all figured out, and I may never get to that place. But I also think the current approach used by the Fundies doesn't work, and maybe I'm onto something. Maybe this is a worthwhile alternative to consider.
This week we had a discussion about differences in belief - namely, how I can believe in God with as much conviction as she disbelieves. And though our conversation was interesting, I won't detail it here. There are too many personal things shared in these discussions for me to feel comfortable putting them in such a public place. However, I think the driving force behind our conversation was something that should be looked at.
I've often thought that the church as a whole, and Fundyism in particular, lacks the ability to really connect with those who don't agree with it. I think this is partially because religion and spirituality are such personal issues that it's harder to move beyond the differences between us to find our common ground than it is for two people who happen to root for two different teams. But I also think it has to do with the awareness of those differences that the church grinds into people. Add to this the emphasis on soul-winning, and you create a group of people who can't help but see everyone outside their immediate circle of belief through a religious filter. You're either saved or unsaved, easy to relate to or living in a completely different world. There's no room for a middle ground.
On the one hand these views have some truth to them, but I think we need to view our relationships with non-Christ followers differently. I think that seeing our differences in a way that alienates us can't be a good thing, particularly if this creates an "us vs. them" mentality or makes us think we are better. Instead, I think we need to recognize and emphasize our similarities. We are all people walking through this world. We all have grief, pain, joy, trials and fears. We all have weaknesses. We all have the fatal disease of sin (I love how Donald Miller explores this concept in Blue Like Jazz. He describes the sin nature as the fact that we are all flawed and that something in us is broken, making it easier for us to do bad when we know we should do good.). This is true for every man, woman and child who has ever walked this planet. The only difference between the Christian and non-Christian is that the Christian has accepted the antidote for that fatal disease. It's not a perfect cure in this lifetime - meaning that as long as a person lives on this earth, he or she will still have to fight that disease - but it does guarantee that for those who take the antidote, the disease won't be fatal and that before all is said and done, he or she will have a better chance of not giving in to the temptations of that disease. When we can begin to see ourselves as one in that we are all carriers of this same disease, we can begin to find our common ground again.
That being said, I want to focus back in on my conversation with my friend. What I feel was so revoluationary about our conversation was not the fact that it took place. It was the undertone of that conversation. We're certainly not the first atheist and Christ follower to ever discuss our different religious views, but we're in the minority in that our conversation was one in which we sought to come to a place of understanding, not a place of agreement. I think this is crucial. Neither one of us was coming to the conversation with an agenda. I wasn't there to convince her that I'm right and she's wrong, or that she should abandon her beliefs (which she has embraced for legitimate reasons) in favor of mine. I was there to hear her opinion, listen to her perspectives, see through her eyes. I can only presume she was attempting to do the same with me. In short, we were laying the foundations of friendship. We were seeking to know one another better. And because we weren't behaving like two used car salesmen trying to pawn off our beliefs on an unsuspecting sucker, we succeeded. I know her better now. I understand her stance more fully. That doesn't mean I agree with it, but coming to a place of agreement wasn't the objective. The objective was relationship.
I've noticed that the Fundy church only endorses close friendships with unbelievers for the purpose of "winning the lost to Christ." As long as your goal is conversion, it's okay to form bonds with sinners. Otherwise, stay away. They'll only corrupt you. But I think this is wrong. I don't think we should go into the world with a hidden agenda. In fact, I think this well-meaning agenda is poorly hidden, and its existence is one of the reasons we fail so miserably. That's not to say that we shouldn't seek to share Jesus with others. In fact, more and more every year I gain a heart and burden for people who don't know Jesus. I can't help but hope and pray that my friendship with my atheist carpool buddy will plant truth in her that will lead her to Jesus, but my only agenda is loving relationship. In other words, whether she ever embraces Jesus or not, I will love her and offer her my friendship. I'm reaching out to her unconditionally, just as Jesus reaches out to me. After all, how much would you want to be friends with someone if you sensed his real agenda wasn't friendship but an effort to convince you to buy into his Amway upline, or whatever the hell they say? Thanks, but no thanks. When you sense someone is coming into a relationship with an agenda, you can't help but feel that they don't really give a damn about you as a person; they just want you to buy into whatever it is they're selling. Again, no thanks.
Honestly, I think relationship without agenda is more loving, more Christ-like, and more likely to yield honest-to-goodness fruit than the alternative. So that's why I'm trying to come to a place of understanding with my friend. That's why I'm not fighting to convince her that I'm right. That's why I'm not desperate to get her to agree with me. And the payoff? Because I'm willing to listen to her, she's willing to listen to me. Because she gets to share her religious perspectives, I also get the chance to share mine. In other words, I'm sowing seeds. I'm sharing truth, but I'm doing it in a way that gives it a chance to take root and grow. I'm not watering it down, but neither am I throwing it at her like bricks through a window.
I can't help but think that I'm on the right track here, even if I'm still groping my way through the dark. A day or two after our conversation she came to me and shared a very personal concern she and her husband are dealing with. She hasn't chosen to share it with anyone else, and I can't tell you how honored I was that she would entrust it to me. And as we talked last week, she said something that touched me so deeply. She told me that she doesn't feel she has to censor herself with me. She can be real with me and not put up a front or be fake. The only other person in her life she feels that kind of freedom with is her husband. To be honest, that blows me away. To be given such a thing from another human being is truly a gift, and it tells me that somehow, in all my faulty attempts and in this blind searching to find a balance between authentic faith, friendship, and sharing Jesus, I've managed to be Jesus to this woman. I've managed to offer her the same safety He offers me - a place to go where I don't have to censor myself or pretend I'm something that I'm not. It doesn't mean He agrees with me on everything, but He offers me that safety and that unconditional love.
I know there's a balance to this. I know that I have to be prepared for the possibility that I may speak the truth and offend. That's the nature of truth, I'm afraid. I freely admit that I haven't got this all right or all figured out, and I may never get to that place. But I also think the current approach used by the Fundies doesn't work, and maybe I'm onto something. Maybe this is a worthwhile alternative to consider.
Monday, June 23, 2008
A Rebuttal of Hatred
Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks. You are no more a "Christ Follower" then I am a vegetarian (says while eating a live cow). I am sorry some apostate emergent teaching has lead you to believe you are a Christ follower...
The above comment was made in response to my posting called "Hatemongers & Whoremongers." There are some things I'd like to say in reply. I don't know if this hateful person will ever take the time to review my response to his/her cowardly attack (I say cowardly because this person chose to say some very unkind things without having the courage to put their name to their remarks.), but regardless of whether or not they ever visit my blog again, I feel it's important for me to express my feelings about what they had to say. I have copied their comment in its entirety, with the exception of the website link they chose to include. As this is a site I don't want to encourage others to visit, I've chosen to exclude it.
For starters, this is precisely the kind of response I'm talking about that has alienated the secular world from the church. The words of Jesus are hard enough to wrestle with for some folks, but attitudes like the one above do nothing but make those words harder to accept and reveal nothing of the wooing, loving heart of God. I'm not trying to imply that God is some type of soft grandfather who winks at our sinfulness, but He is a God who describes Himself as patient, slow to anger, quick to forgive, abundant in mercy, a friend of sinners, intimately aware of our frailty in our human state. The message above was none of these things. It was harsh, judgmental and unkind. And let me tell you, there was not one drop of the love of Jesus in it. This person who believes me to be deceived in my belief that I'm accepted by God as a Christ follower has offered no helping hand or insight to show me the way to what they deem to be truth, unless the website that was included was supposed to serve as some form of assistance. Instead, they have chosen to rudely throw their opinion at me while leaving me in the pit of ungodliness they believe I live in. They have not talked to me, they do not know me or my story, and I can only presume that they did not bother to take the time to read any of the other thoughts I have made myself vulnerable in sharing. This person does not know that I base my salvation not on some "apostate emergent teaching," but on the sacrifice Jesus Christ made on my behalf. I am not a Christ follower because it's trendy or because it appeals to me. I'm not a Christ follower because it sounds like a good thing to do. I'm a Christ follower because He drew me and called me and reached out for me from a very young age, because despite my imperfections and struggles He is merciful to me, because I have placed my trust entirely in His ability to save me and make me what He wants me to be, and most decidedly not because I have it all right and do a great job of keeping all the rules.
Let's just suppose, however incorrect that supposition may be, that this person is right and I am not a true Christ follower. As this person considers himself a true Christ follower, it is his duty and responsibility to share the truth with me. By the example of the apostle Paul, this person should lovingly instruct me if my path is incorrect, not throw a missile of judgment and dash away to his next victim. Clearly he is insincere in his assertion that he is "sorry" I have been lead to believe I am a Christ follower by some false teaching or another. If he is truly sorry, he would attempt to help me understand what it means to be a true Christ follower, not simply attack without giving any legitimate, concrete reason for his assumptions regarding my spiritual state.
And for the record, I had never even heard of the "Emerging Church" until about two months ago, and I still have only the vaguest idea of what it is these folks are teaching. Amazing, is it not then, that they have been deceiving me about my being a Christ follower ever since October of 1993 when I made a personal commitment to Jesus. Who could have thought their influence could be so far reaching that they could mislead even those who have never heard of them and are unfamiliar with what they're all about? So next time, friend, get your facts straight before you start making ignorant assumptions and throwing them out there with so little grace.
Finally, I would remind this person that, according to the words of his or her own mouth, he/she was eating a live cow at the time their comments were made. Be careful. You are in violation of the decrees issued at the council of Jerusalem. In case you aren't familiar, the account can be found in the book of Acts. The apostles determined that all Christ followers were to abstain from eating/drinking blood. Next time, cook your meat before beginning lunch, or you too may end up deceived and living in gross violation of clearly stated laws. As you are so evidently a lover of the law, this would be a grievous misfortune for you. :)
I don't know whether my reader found my post offensive because I sometimes use profanity, or because I went to a parade where naked people were riding bikes, or because I was in a crowd with sinners of all kinds, or because I dared to challenge the hatemongering signs waved by his Fundy cohorts. I do know that Jesus would have taken a far different approach to correcting any error I might be in. I'm not saying Jesus didn't preach hard truths, but even when He had to confront the rich young ruler the Bible says "He looked at him and loved him." When you can look at me and love me, when you can sincerely desire to help me see "truth" (if I am deceived in my perspectives), when your heart aches for me to know the love and joy and freedom of Jesus that I doubt you know yourself with your self-righteous trappings, then you will have the right to speak to me and confront me. Truth, without love, is a weapon, and it will wound without healing.
The above comment was made in response to my posting called "Hatemongers & Whoremongers." There are some things I'd like to say in reply. I don't know if this hateful person will ever take the time to review my response to his/her cowardly attack (I say cowardly because this person chose to say some very unkind things without having the courage to put their name to their remarks.), but regardless of whether or not they ever visit my blog again, I feel it's important for me to express my feelings about what they had to say. I have copied their comment in its entirety, with the exception of the website link they chose to include. As this is a site I don't want to encourage others to visit, I've chosen to exclude it.
For starters, this is precisely the kind of response I'm talking about that has alienated the secular world from the church. The words of Jesus are hard enough to wrestle with for some folks, but attitudes like the one above do nothing but make those words harder to accept and reveal nothing of the wooing, loving heart of God. I'm not trying to imply that God is some type of soft grandfather who winks at our sinfulness, but He is a God who describes Himself as patient, slow to anger, quick to forgive, abundant in mercy, a friend of sinners, intimately aware of our frailty in our human state. The message above was none of these things. It was harsh, judgmental and unkind. And let me tell you, there was not one drop of the love of Jesus in it. This person who believes me to be deceived in my belief that I'm accepted by God as a Christ follower has offered no helping hand or insight to show me the way to what they deem to be truth, unless the website that was included was supposed to serve as some form of assistance. Instead, they have chosen to rudely throw their opinion at me while leaving me in the pit of ungodliness they believe I live in. They have not talked to me, they do not know me or my story, and I can only presume that they did not bother to take the time to read any of the other thoughts I have made myself vulnerable in sharing. This person does not know that I base my salvation not on some "apostate emergent teaching," but on the sacrifice Jesus Christ made on my behalf. I am not a Christ follower because it's trendy or because it appeals to me. I'm not a Christ follower because it sounds like a good thing to do. I'm a Christ follower because He drew me and called me and reached out for me from a very young age, because despite my imperfections and struggles He is merciful to me, because I have placed my trust entirely in His ability to save me and make me what He wants me to be, and most decidedly not because I have it all right and do a great job of keeping all the rules.
Let's just suppose, however incorrect that supposition may be, that this person is right and I am not a true Christ follower. As this person considers himself a true Christ follower, it is his duty and responsibility to share the truth with me. By the example of the apostle Paul, this person should lovingly instruct me if my path is incorrect, not throw a missile of judgment and dash away to his next victim. Clearly he is insincere in his assertion that he is "sorry" I have been lead to believe I am a Christ follower by some false teaching or another. If he is truly sorry, he would attempt to help me understand what it means to be a true Christ follower, not simply attack without giving any legitimate, concrete reason for his assumptions regarding my spiritual state.
And for the record, I had never even heard of the "Emerging Church" until about two months ago, and I still have only the vaguest idea of what it is these folks are teaching. Amazing, is it not then, that they have been deceiving me about my being a Christ follower ever since October of 1993 when I made a personal commitment to Jesus. Who could have thought their influence could be so far reaching that they could mislead even those who have never heard of them and are unfamiliar with what they're all about? So next time, friend, get your facts straight before you start making ignorant assumptions and throwing them out there with so little grace.
Finally, I would remind this person that, according to the words of his or her own mouth, he/she was eating a live cow at the time their comments were made. Be careful. You are in violation of the decrees issued at the council of Jerusalem. In case you aren't familiar, the account can be found in the book of Acts. The apostles determined that all Christ followers were to abstain from eating/drinking blood. Next time, cook your meat before beginning lunch, or you too may end up deceived and living in gross violation of clearly stated laws. As you are so evidently a lover of the law, this would be a grievous misfortune for you. :)
I don't know whether my reader found my post offensive because I sometimes use profanity, or because I went to a parade where naked people were riding bikes, or because I was in a crowd with sinners of all kinds, or because I dared to challenge the hatemongering signs waved by his Fundy cohorts. I do know that Jesus would have taken a far different approach to correcting any error I might be in. I'm not saying Jesus didn't preach hard truths, but even when He had to confront the rich young ruler the Bible says "He looked at him and loved him." When you can look at me and love me, when you can sincerely desire to help me see "truth" (if I am deceived in my perspectives), when your heart aches for me to know the love and joy and freedom of Jesus that I doubt you know yourself with your self-righteous trappings, then you will have the right to speak to me and confront me. Truth, without love, is a weapon, and it will wound without healing.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Hatemongers & Whoremongers
Today I went to a Seattle street fair celebrating Solstice in the Fremont neighborhood where I live. It was delightful! The festival is most famous, perhaps, for its two parades. The first, "unofficial" parade draws at least as many (if not more!) people as the second, "official" parade. This is because, for a few hours on Solstice, the Seattle police choose to ignore modesty laws as they join the rest of us in enjoying the unofficial parade of nudists who travel the parade path on bikes or rollerblades. Most decorate their bodies with paint to preserve some sense of modesty, but a few brave souls dare to bare it all without embellishment. These folks, as well as those who bike standing up to put on a good show by giving more explicit views than those being offered by their comfortably seated counterparts, garner cheers as they roll up and down the street for a large crowd of appreciative gawkers. It's completely inappropriate, but it sure is fun!
My friends and I sat through both parades (there were plenty of mostly naked people in the official parade too!) before wandering up the street to the vendors where we could purchase everything from dresses and jewelry to herbal massage oils and sweet treats. We were surrounded by hippies and homosexuals, athletic sorts and those who really needed to lay off the cream puffs. It was all very "Seattle" and I was reminded again just why I love living in this crazy, totally inappropriate city so very much.
After doing a little shopping, I decided to walk home and began politely pushing my way toward the end of the street. After managing to escape the crush of people and starting to head up the middle of the road, I was horrified to see two giant signs waving over the heads of the crowd. One read, "God is watching you. Shame on you. Repent." The other quoted scripture verses about how the sexually immoral will not inherit the kingdom of God, and warning people that God had given them over to their unholy lusts. I wanted desperately to march over to the foolish men waving their banners of hate and give them a piece of my mind, but I knew I'd be wasting my breath.
In stark contrast were the donation stands not ten feet from the Fundy outpost. Manned by the depraved "whoremongers" of Seattle, they had been established as spots for people to donate money to help homeless families, and they were raking in the cash. Thanks to their efforts, a lot of less fortunate families are going to get some desperately needed assistance.
I can't help but think that this kind of thing is an explicit example of what's wrong with the Fundy church, and it's one of the main reasons I can no longer stand to be affiliated with them. It's not that what they were saying isn't true; it's the fact that they weren't speaking it in love. It's the fact that they were wielding truth as a weapon that hurts without healing. It's the fact that they were driving people away and giving them good reason to slam the doors of their hearts to a message that needs to be heard.
I understand that truth is a tough thing, and I understand that sometimes it has to be spoken, even if it is disliked or rejected. As I said in my last post, Jesus was an irritant at times (though He was mostly confrontational with religious types, not sinners). But I also know what it feels like to be judged. I know how it feels to have someone tell you that what you're doing is sinful. That kind of message is hard enough to hear when it's spoken in love; when it's spewed like venom, how the hell is it supposed to do any good whatsoever?
Perhaps the saddest thing about today was that there was a lot of love on those city streets, but none of it (in the public sense, at least) was coming from the Christians. Some readers may remember the "Free Hugs" campaign that was all over the headlines a few years ago. A man stood on a city street with a sign that said "Free Hugs." To anyone who wanted one, he offered a hug, a monent of human connection and compassion. And he got others to do the same. It was a really beautiful thing until the cops shut it down. I guess a group of Seattleites didn't get the message that the movement was over. A large group of them marched in the official parade wearing red satin capes with furry hearts emblazoned on the back. They didn't keep to formation because they were too busy walking amongst the crowds offering hugs and wishing people a happy solstice. I received a hug today from a man I didn't know. It was a beautiful thing. Had I walked up to one of those sign-wavers, a hug would probably have been the last thing on earth he'd have been willing to offer me. And if I had a need and wanted someone to talk to, I would have gone to the pagan who'd given me a kind moment of connection before I would have approached the street preacher. And I'm a Christ follower! How do you think all the sinners felt?
Now to be fair to the Fundies, most of them aren't so extreme as these two guys. However, the kinder Fundies don't speak up enough or get air time, so in effect, they let self-righteous bastards like the chaps I saw today speak for them. I know that Fundies do a lot of good things for people. I know they take in donations and start shelters and offer a helping hand, but by letting these guys speak for them, they lose a lot of the street credit they could get with the world for the loving, Christ-like actions they do.
I'm not going to pretend that I everything I saw today was something God would approve of, though considering that Adam and Eve were nudists for a long time and it didn't seem to bother Him, I think that taking a naked bike ride isn't something He really worries about. (Right about now a Fundy will argue that nudity of that sort will stir up lust, but let's just get real. Most of the folks who were showing off their goods today didn't get airbrushed before heading out. They had wrinkles, dimples, sags, pooches, and flubber. They were just real people. And the gawkers weren't lusting. They were laughing.) Honestly, I think if Jesus had been at the Fremont Fair today, He would have walked down the street with the folks wearing the red capes, giving people heartfelt hugs and letting them know they were loved, valued and worth His time and attention. He would have been manning one of those donation booths to help raise money for someone in need. And He sure as hell wouldn't have been waving a sign over the heads of His people with hateful words that would only drive them farther away.
My friends and I sat through both parades (there were plenty of mostly naked people in the official parade too!) before wandering up the street to the vendors where we could purchase everything from dresses and jewelry to herbal massage oils and sweet treats. We were surrounded by hippies and homosexuals, athletic sorts and those who really needed to lay off the cream puffs. It was all very "Seattle" and I was reminded again just why I love living in this crazy, totally inappropriate city so very much.
After doing a little shopping, I decided to walk home and began politely pushing my way toward the end of the street. After managing to escape the crush of people and starting to head up the middle of the road, I was horrified to see two giant signs waving over the heads of the crowd. One read, "God is watching you. Shame on you. Repent." The other quoted scripture verses about how the sexually immoral will not inherit the kingdom of God, and warning people that God had given them over to their unholy lusts. I wanted desperately to march over to the foolish men waving their banners of hate and give them a piece of my mind, but I knew I'd be wasting my breath.
In stark contrast were the donation stands not ten feet from the Fundy outpost. Manned by the depraved "whoremongers" of Seattle, they had been established as spots for people to donate money to help homeless families, and they were raking in the cash. Thanks to their efforts, a lot of less fortunate families are going to get some desperately needed assistance.
I can't help but think that this kind of thing is an explicit example of what's wrong with the Fundy church, and it's one of the main reasons I can no longer stand to be affiliated with them. It's not that what they were saying isn't true; it's the fact that they weren't speaking it in love. It's the fact that they were wielding truth as a weapon that hurts without healing. It's the fact that they were driving people away and giving them good reason to slam the doors of their hearts to a message that needs to be heard.
I understand that truth is a tough thing, and I understand that sometimes it has to be spoken, even if it is disliked or rejected. As I said in my last post, Jesus was an irritant at times (though He was mostly confrontational with religious types, not sinners). But I also know what it feels like to be judged. I know how it feels to have someone tell you that what you're doing is sinful. That kind of message is hard enough to hear when it's spoken in love; when it's spewed like venom, how the hell is it supposed to do any good whatsoever?
Perhaps the saddest thing about today was that there was a lot of love on those city streets, but none of it (in the public sense, at least) was coming from the Christians. Some readers may remember the "Free Hugs" campaign that was all over the headlines a few years ago. A man stood on a city street with a sign that said "Free Hugs." To anyone who wanted one, he offered a hug, a monent of human connection and compassion. And he got others to do the same. It was a really beautiful thing until the cops shut it down. I guess a group of Seattleites didn't get the message that the movement was over. A large group of them marched in the official parade wearing red satin capes with furry hearts emblazoned on the back. They didn't keep to formation because they were too busy walking amongst the crowds offering hugs and wishing people a happy solstice. I received a hug today from a man I didn't know. It was a beautiful thing. Had I walked up to one of those sign-wavers, a hug would probably have been the last thing on earth he'd have been willing to offer me. And if I had a need and wanted someone to talk to, I would have gone to the pagan who'd given me a kind moment of connection before I would have approached the street preacher. And I'm a Christ follower! How do you think all the sinners felt?
Now to be fair to the Fundies, most of them aren't so extreme as these two guys. However, the kinder Fundies don't speak up enough or get air time, so in effect, they let self-righteous bastards like the chaps I saw today speak for them. I know that Fundies do a lot of good things for people. I know they take in donations and start shelters and offer a helping hand, but by letting these guys speak for them, they lose a lot of the street credit they could get with the world for the loving, Christ-like actions they do.
I'm not going to pretend that I everything I saw today was something God would approve of, though considering that Adam and Eve were nudists for a long time and it didn't seem to bother Him, I think that taking a naked bike ride isn't something He really worries about. (Right about now a Fundy will argue that nudity of that sort will stir up lust, but let's just get real. Most of the folks who were showing off their goods today didn't get airbrushed before heading out. They had wrinkles, dimples, sags, pooches, and flubber. They were just real people. And the gawkers weren't lusting. They were laughing.) Honestly, I think if Jesus had been at the Fremont Fair today, He would have walked down the street with the folks wearing the red capes, giving people heartfelt hugs and letting them know they were loved, valued and worth His time and attention. He would have been manning one of those donation booths to help raise money for someone in need. And He sure as hell wouldn't have been waving a sign over the heads of His people with hateful words that would only drive them farther away.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Pagan Practices
I touched on a thought in one of my earlier posts that I want to explore in greater depth. One of the things I've noticed about Fundy-ism and my upbringing in it is the way in which some of its practices mirror pagan behaviors very closely. Now I realize before I even start this discussion that I'm stepping on toes, but I would encourage any readers who find themselves offended or concerned to hear me out before making a judgment on what I have to say. You might find that you agree with me. :)
I would also like to preface my remarks by saying that I don't believe Chrisitianity is merely a form of paganism that's managed to survive and become widespread in its acceptance. I do believe it to contain the truth we so desperately need. Humans as a species, however, tend to implement certain elements into their spirituality, pagan or Christian, so it's only natural that we would see some of these things creep up where they shouldn't.
The one practice that comes to mind most forcefully at present is that of using a ritual of some kind to achieve a desired end. This takes on many forms. Sometimes it involves making sacrifices to appease an angry god. Sometimes it's performing a sacred rite or practicing a certain behavior to get a blessing or a gift from the god. Sometimes it's giving an offering to make sure the god stays happy. In the end, though, it all boils down to the same thing: without this ritual, the seeker can't get what it is he or she desires, and the only source for satisfying that desire is the god.
I think that for humans this repeated element in spirituality comes from some strange need in us to earn what we want. Maybe it's what Christ followers call a "works" mentality; maybe it's a remnant left over from the Fall of Man (theologian language!!) that makes us unable to trust the divine. Maybe it's the apparent capriciousness of a world in which freak accidents can occur and young men die before reaching the fullness of age and potential. Whatever it is that spawns this in us, however, it is nearly universal when one looks at religious practice. In this, Fundies are right in with the rest.
Theologically, Fundies are right on target. In fact, one of the things that makes Chrisitianity stand out from other religions is that, in what it teaches at least, it does away with this use of ritual (works) to obtain something from the divine. In practice... well, Christ followers have the fatal flaw of being human, and therefore they muck (or one could say fuck. Haha) it up. I've seen numerous examples of how this plays out.
The church I stopped attending a little over a year ago was rife with examples of ritual. One (and this one is extremely common in the Christian church) seems silly to mention, but it's a prime illustrator of my point. Like most Christians I've known, we all ended our prayers with "in the name of Jesus." Now, before the last Fundy reader I have abandons me forever, I'm not challenging the teaching of Jesus on praying in His name. On the contrary, I'm pointing out how ritual may have stripped it of its true meaning and power. Every prayer, whether giving thanks over food, a request for a blessing, or something else ended with "in the name of Jesus." We were taught that the name of Jesus was powerful, and in this we were taught correctly. Where the mistake came in was in practice. Rather than perceiving that praying in Jesus' name is about coming to God as a representative of Jesus and making a request according to His heart and character, the name of Jesus became a sort of talisman or "magical phrase" - rather like the incantations used by those who practice witchcraft - that was supposed to get God to answer and guarantee that the request would be satisfied. We were taught that the name of Jesus obligated God to answer prayer, and that a request might not be granted if it wasn't made "in the name of Jesus." Talk about paganistic nonsense! Since when does a father interact with his child in such a way? What lover would tell his bride that she must be certain to include a magical phrase if she wants him to grant her what she desires of him? Sounds more like the stuff of fairy tales than truth. I can't tell you how many times I heard people (and did the same myself) toss an "in the name of Jesus" on the end of a prayer without any real thought about what it was supposed to mean. It was a habit, a ritual, a phrase to make sure one included before the final "amen." Without it, the prayer didn't really count.
That's a rather mild example, but that kind of thinking can really do damage when it begins to be applied in other contexts, and once it's entrenched, even those who see it for what it is can still fall victim to it. As an example, my dearest friend has been struggling with infertility. I hesitate to mention this on my blog because it is such a private matter and I want to respect her and this painful journey she and her husband are taking. Like me, she was raised a Fundy, so she has the full set of nutso ideas that have been ingrained in her as well. One of the things we've talked about is the fact that she is, at times, tempted to think that if she just learns what it is God has for her to learn, or if she just does something specific that He wants her to do, or if she just has the right person pray for her and lay hands on her womb she'll miraculously conceive. These thoughts are further complicated by other Fundy thinking that leans toward pagan ideas at times - thoughts such as this: God's punishing me for sins I committed a few years ago; or God's withholding this blessing because I don't have enough faith.
What a horrible burden to carry! Now I don't know the reasons why she and her husband haven't conceived, but I don't believe those reasons have anything to do with something God's waiting on them to fix. I don't think their faith is too weak or they are unworthy because of mistakes God no longer remembers. I know there are reasons, but I am firmly convinced that those reasons are good, not retributionary. And I also know that when He does see fit to give them a baby, it will be in the context of relationship, not because they managed to complete everything on His "Pre-Conception Checklist for Prospective Parents." And I have to think that it grieves the heart of God to be so misunderstood and misrepresented that people would actually think that's how He operates with His kids.
These aren't the only nutso, pagan-like teachings the church puts out there. And the sad thing is that most of these things are based on scriptures that have been grossly misinterpreted or misunderstood (e.g. "in the name of Jesus"). There are actually preachers out there who teach people that if they ask God for the same thing twice He won't answer their prayer because it indicates they didn't have faith the first time they asked. Instead, these people are taught to make a request once and then thank God from that time forward for giving them what they've requested ("in the name of Jesus," no doubt. Haha.). When they're struggling with doubt, these preachers say the worst thing they can do is "confess" it. So instead of encouraging them to cultivate real, honest, authentic relationship with God in which a struggling soul can come before its Creator and find strength in weakness, they are to fake it till they feel it. They just keep thanking God for the blessing as though He can't see the doubt that's living deep within them, as though He doesn't long for them to come into the place where they can interact with Him honestly and find the help and answers they truly need. (This "speaking in faith" thing even extends so far as to convince people that if they verbalize their fears, those fears will become reality! Talk about making people afraid. You'd better not accidentally tell someone your health concerns or fears about your marriage. If you do, you might as well flush your hopes and dreams for those things right down the toilet. And I suppose my friend should conceal her agony about trying to conceive and just keep spouting her belief that she's already pregnant "in the Spirit." Never mind that by cutting her off from sharing the pain of her journey with God and those who love her most she is being cut off from comfort and hope that she depends on to get through this season.) I mean really, I'm not sure I would want to be connected with a god who has a built-in faith-o-meter that will tell him if my faith is an ounce or two below the required amount for the prayers I've prayed, and therefore my requests get a big, fat rejection slip. I'm not sure I want to entrust myself to a Being to whom I can't bare all the deepest secrets, needs, fears and longings of my soul and still find acceptance and compassion.
I can't be the only person out there who hears shit like what these guys and gals are saying and thinks that sounds an awful lot like pagan religions. Instead of speaking an incantation over a rock or river, we "speak in faith," sometimes lying to ourselves and our God about what we're really thinking and feeling, just so we can obtain the desired blessing, never mind that we've abandoned authentic relationship in favor of a vending machine system that doesn't produce the Skittles 75 percent of the time. Instead of slaughtering our first-born or stacking produce on an altar as a sacrifice, we toss our obligatory 10 percent in the offering plate, believing that our pitiful gift will guarantee us a win in the heavenly lotto, and missing the point entirely behind giving back to God - the development of a grateful and generous heart. Instead of doing a rain dance to convince the god to meet our needs, we repeat scripture verses that apply to our situation until they become meaningless words that we no longer mean or understand.
Pardon my French, but that's fucked up, and it sure as hell isn't what God wants for us. That's not to say that certain rituals and traditions can't be beautiful, powerful things. It doesn't mean that some of those rituals can't help us connect to God. But when rituals replace or hinder the experience of genuine relationship, when they become meaningless tools that are used to manipulate God into ponying up the blessing, that's the time they need to be exposed for what they are. When we begin turning to rituals and displines to do the work we should entrust to God, it's time we tossed those rituals altogether.
I can't tell you how many times I heard someone who was struggling with something or waiting for an answer to prayer share that battle with another Fundy. You know what the response was? A ritual. "Maybe you should take Communion... Are you speaking in faith?... Quote this Bible verse six times every morning... You just need to stay at the altar until you sense that God has answered you... You just need to keep thanking Him... Have you fasted? I did a 40-day Daniel fast and God just revealed so much to me and totally stepped into my situation."
It's not that I think fasting or Communion or prayer or scripture memory have no value. I think they're very valuable. But when we use them as a replacement for rain dances and incantations and vegetables on an altar and traveling to Calcutta on our knees to prove our devotion, well, I think we can safely say we're mis-applying them and we have a serious problem.
I would also like to preface my remarks by saying that I don't believe Chrisitianity is merely a form of paganism that's managed to survive and become widespread in its acceptance. I do believe it to contain the truth we so desperately need. Humans as a species, however, tend to implement certain elements into their spirituality, pagan or Christian, so it's only natural that we would see some of these things creep up where they shouldn't.
The one practice that comes to mind most forcefully at present is that of using a ritual of some kind to achieve a desired end. This takes on many forms. Sometimes it involves making sacrifices to appease an angry god. Sometimes it's performing a sacred rite or practicing a certain behavior to get a blessing or a gift from the god. Sometimes it's giving an offering to make sure the god stays happy. In the end, though, it all boils down to the same thing: without this ritual, the seeker can't get what it is he or she desires, and the only source for satisfying that desire is the god.
I think that for humans this repeated element in spirituality comes from some strange need in us to earn what we want. Maybe it's what Christ followers call a "works" mentality; maybe it's a remnant left over from the Fall of Man (theologian language!!) that makes us unable to trust the divine. Maybe it's the apparent capriciousness of a world in which freak accidents can occur and young men die before reaching the fullness of age and potential. Whatever it is that spawns this in us, however, it is nearly universal when one looks at religious practice. In this, Fundies are right in with the rest.
Theologically, Fundies are right on target. In fact, one of the things that makes Chrisitianity stand out from other religions is that, in what it teaches at least, it does away with this use of ritual (works) to obtain something from the divine. In practice... well, Christ followers have the fatal flaw of being human, and therefore they muck (or one could say fuck. Haha) it up. I've seen numerous examples of how this plays out.
The church I stopped attending a little over a year ago was rife with examples of ritual. One (and this one is extremely common in the Christian church) seems silly to mention, but it's a prime illustrator of my point. Like most Christians I've known, we all ended our prayers with "in the name of Jesus." Now, before the last Fundy reader I have abandons me forever, I'm not challenging the teaching of Jesus on praying in His name. On the contrary, I'm pointing out how ritual may have stripped it of its true meaning and power. Every prayer, whether giving thanks over food, a request for a blessing, or something else ended with "in the name of Jesus." We were taught that the name of Jesus was powerful, and in this we were taught correctly. Where the mistake came in was in practice. Rather than perceiving that praying in Jesus' name is about coming to God as a representative of Jesus and making a request according to His heart and character, the name of Jesus became a sort of talisman or "magical phrase" - rather like the incantations used by those who practice witchcraft - that was supposed to get God to answer and guarantee that the request would be satisfied. We were taught that the name of Jesus obligated God to answer prayer, and that a request might not be granted if it wasn't made "in the name of Jesus." Talk about paganistic nonsense! Since when does a father interact with his child in such a way? What lover would tell his bride that she must be certain to include a magical phrase if she wants him to grant her what she desires of him? Sounds more like the stuff of fairy tales than truth. I can't tell you how many times I heard people (and did the same myself) toss an "in the name of Jesus" on the end of a prayer without any real thought about what it was supposed to mean. It was a habit, a ritual, a phrase to make sure one included before the final "amen." Without it, the prayer didn't really count.
That's a rather mild example, but that kind of thinking can really do damage when it begins to be applied in other contexts, and once it's entrenched, even those who see it for what it is can still fall victim to it. As an example, my dearest friend has been struggling with infertility. I hesitate to mention this on my blog because it is such a private matter and I want to respect her and this painful journey she and her husband are taking. Like me, she was raised a Fundy, so she has the full set of nutso ideas that have been ingrained in her as well. One of the things we've talked about is the fact that she is, at times, tempted to think that if she just learns what it is God has for her to learn, or if she just does something specific that He wants her to do, or if she just has the right person pray for her and lay hands on her womb she'll miraculously conceive. These thoughts are further complicated by other Fundy thinking that leans toward pagan ideas at times - thoughts such as this: God's punishing me for sins I committed a few years ago; or God's withholding this blessing because I don't have enough faith.
What a horrible burden to carry! Now I don't know the reasons why she and her husband haven't conceived, but I don't believe those reasons have anything to do with something God's waiting on them to fix. I don't think their faith is too weak or they are unworthy because of mistakes God no longer remembers. I know there are reasons, but I am firmly convinced that those reasons are good, not retributionary. And I also know that when He does see fit to give them a baby, it will be in the context of relationship, not because they managed to complete everything on His "Pre-Conception Checklist for Prospective Parents." And I have to think that it grieves the heart of God to be so misunderstood and misrepresented that people would actually think that's how He operates with His kids.
These aren't the only nutso, pagan-like teachings the church puts out there. And the sad thing is that most of these things are based on scriptures that have been grossly misinterpreted or misunderstood (e.g. "in the name of Jesus"). There are actually preachers out there who teach people that if they ask God for the same thing twice He won't answer their prayer because it indicates they didn't have faith the first time they asked. Instead, these people are taught to make a request once and then thank God from that time forward for giving them what they've requested ("in the name of Jesus," no doubt. Haha.). When they're struggling with doubt, these preachers say the worst thing they can do is "confess" it. So instead of encouraging them to cultivate real, honest, authentic relationship with God in which a struggling soul can come before its Creator and find strength in weakness, they are to fake it till they feel it. They just keep thanking God for the blessing as though He can't see the doubt that's living deep within them, as though He doesn't long for them to come into the place where they can interact with Him honestly and find the help and answers they truly need. (This "speaking in faith" thing even extends so far as to convince people that if they verbalize their fears, those fears will become reality! Talk about making people afraid. You'd better not accidentally tell someone your health concerns or fears about your marriage. If you do, you might as well flush your hopes and dreams for those things right down the toilet. And I suppose my friend should conceal her agony about trying to conceive and just keep spouting her belief that she's already pregnant "in the Spirit." Never mind that by cutting her off from sharing the pain of her journey with God and those who love her most she is being cut off from comfort and hope that she depends on to get through this season.) I mean really, I'm not sure I would want to be connected with a god who has a built-in faith-o-meter that will tell him if my faith is an ounce or two below the required amount for the prayers I've prayed, and therefore my requests get a big, fat rejection slip. I'm not sure I want to entrust myself to a Being to whom I can't bare all the deepest secrets, needs, fears and longings of my soul and still find acceptance and compassion.
I can't be the only person out there who hears shit like what these guys and gals are saying and thinks that sounds an awful lot like pagan religions. Instead of speaking an incantation over a rock or river, we "speak in faith," sometimes lying to ourselves and our God about what we're really thinking and feeling, just so we can obtain the desired blessing, never mind that we've abandoned authentic relationship in favor of a vending machine system that doesn't produce the Skittles 75 percent of the time. Instead of slaughtering our first-born or stacking produce on an altar as a sacrifice, we toss our obligatory 10 percent in the offering plate, believing that our pitiful gift will guarantee us a win in the heavenly lotto, and missing the point entirely behind giving back to God - the development of a grateful and generous heart. Instead of doing a rain dance to convince the god to meet our needs, we repeat scripture verses that apply to our situation until they become meaningless words that we no longer mean or understand.
Pardon my French, but that's fucked up, and it sure as hell isn't what God wants for us. That's not to say that certain rituals and traditions can't be beautiful, powerful things. It doesn't mean that some of those rituals can't help us connect to God. But when rituals replace or hinder the experience of genuine relationship, when they become meaningless tools that are used to manipulate God into ponying up the blessing, that's the time they need to be exposed for what they are. When we begin turning to rituals and displines to do the work we should entrust to God, it's time we tossed those rituals altogether.
I can't tell you how many times I heard someone who was struggling with something or waiting for an answer to prayer share that battle with another Fundy. You know what the response was? A ritual. "Maybe you should take Communion... Are you speaking in faith?... Quote this Bible verse six times every morning... You just need to stay at the altar until you sense that God has answered you... You just need to keep thanking Him... Have you fasted? I did a 40-day Daniel fast and God just revealed so much to me and totally stepped into my situation."
It's not that I think fasting or Communion or prayer or scripture memory have no value. I think they're very valuable. But when we use them as a replacement for rain dances and incantations and vegetables on an altar and traveling to Calcutta on our knees to prove our devotion, well, I think we can safely say we're mis-applying them and we have a serious problem.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Fighting to Forgive
I used to think of myself as a very forgiving person, but I think that was partially because I had never really been deeply hurt by someone I trusted. That's not to say I hadn't been hurt, but I had never had the kind of wound that cut so deeply that it made it difficult for me to let go and move on. I don't think of myself as a very forgiving person anymore.
This has been on my mind this week because a very close friend recently dealt me a blow that I'm having difficulty processing or understanding, and this is making it very difficult to let go and forgive. For reasons my heart can't really understand, one of my best friends - someone who had always told me I'd be her maid of honor - chose to get married last weekend without inviting me to the ceremony. In fact, I wouldn't have even known of her engagement had her mother not called me to talk over her concerns about the relationship. If we'd had a fight or a falling out, or even if I'd expressed my concerns about her choice of boyfriends, I could understand her decision, but none of those things happened. Instead, she just disappeared and stopped answering my calls. I know from others that she's not angry with me, and without sharing too much of her personal situation, I know I can fairly say that I haven't given her any reason to do this. But she's chosen to do it, all the same, and because I feel like the innocent party in the situation, I'm having a very difficult time forgiving. In fact, I"m downright pissed off. She knows I'm upset, but she hasn't chosen to call me, and truthfully, that's probably a good thing. I fear if she calls too soon, I'll say things that will hurt her and do more harm than good.
Forgiveness is one of those things that's central for the Christ follower, which is why this is something I'm trying to explore. For us, everything hinges on forgiveness because Jesus says you can't be forgiven if you don't forgive, and I think that's only fair. So someone like me who desperately needs all the forgiveness and grace God has to give on a daily basis can't afford to hang on to the hurt. Sounds great on paper, but in real life it's far more complicated.
I wish I could say I had this figured out, but this is the second really deep wound I've taken from a close friend in the past year, and I haven't done so well at forgiving the first, let alone dealing with this second incident. I've found that most things are easy for me to forgive, but when someone I love and trust makes me feel betrayed, abandoned and disowned... well, those things strike at really vulnerable spots. I think, in a way, that's why I'm angry at Fundamentalism, and even, at times, at Fundamentalists.
When you invest yourself in someone or something without reserve, you put yourself at great risk for pain. When you love, it's a gamble. That's not to say it isn't worth it when it pays off, but when it doesn't... let's just say it's easy to understand why some people close themselves off.
The first deep wound I mentioned came from a friend in whom I had wholly invested myself. She was a girlfriend, a leader, a mentor, and a spiritual parent, and because I loved her so much, I invested my hopes, my dreams, my support, and my love in her. The details of what happened between us aren't important here, and I'm no longer angry at her for the decisions she made. In fact, the only thing I can say about the situation is "Thank God I got out when I did." But what did make me angry, what stabbed so painfully and still gets to me when I let myself think on it, is the feeling of betrayal and abandonment, the sense that after I gave so much of my heart and strength for something that mattered to her, she could leave me behind. No parent would disown a son or daughter for making a mistake, but it would seem that a "spiritual parent" can and will. And it is this issue that lies at the crux of my distaste for Fundamentalism.
On the whole, Fundies aren't very good at understanding grace the way I'm coming to understand it. Now, granted, there are some who get it more than others, but even they have their limits. Within Fundy-ism there are lots of sins you can commit, but most of them can be forgiven and forgotten. Some sins - I like to call them "the big 5" - can't. Or perhaps I should say they can, but the Fundies don't give you any room to do battle with them. Their solution is to repent, cut off and move on. Let's do a comparison to illustrate. Homosexuality - actually any sexual sin - is one of those "big 5" sins for Fundies. (Believe it or not, I've even known some who thought it to be the dreaded "unforgiveable sin." Pure bullshit!) Gluttony is a sin, but it's one that most Fundies "wink" at. In the Fundy church, the glutton can struggle for years with overeating and sloth. The glutton can repent and re-fall every day. The glutton can diet and do well for a season and then backslide and give up for a season and still be forgiveable and live without the added guilt and shame of being a "sinner." Most Fundies won't even think twice about the glutton's sinful behavior. In fact, they don't even view it as sinful. And the glutton can be looked to by the church as a "godly" man or woman.
Switch gears now and look at the homosexual or the person who commits a sexual sin. Now we're in totally different territory. The sexual sinner dare not re-commit his or her sin. The sexual sinner isn't allowed to do well for a season and then backslide or give up for a season. If he does, he never really repented. He's unspiritual. He's in danger of the fires of hell. And you can bet your ass that the Fundy church will heap guilt, condemnation and disapproval on the trespasser's head. If the sexual sinner slips up, he or she has clearly fallen far from God and is most decidedly not a "godly" man or woman. I've known numerous overweight and even morbidly obese pastors who have clearly been living in unbridled sin for a number of years, but they are loved and respected and considered "godly" by their congregations, despite their unfortunate weaknesses. If those same men, or another pastor altogether, happened to commit a sexual sin - even once - they would be run out of town in disgrace - judged, despised and gossipped about
It is this kind of hypocrisy that reallly pisses me off in Fundy-ism, and it is this hypocrisy that I have to fight to forgive. I've been both of those sinners. For years I struggled with gluttony. In all that time, I was acceptable. If I blew it and downed 8 cookies in one sitting, I could just repent and try again the next day. I still got to be godly, and people still looked up to me as a model of heartfelt devotion to God. Then, after years of walking a very straight and careful line, I let down my guard and had sex with a guy I was dating. Whole different story. Suddenly, there were "steps to be taken toward freedom." I had committed one of the "big 5," and the fact that I'd only screwed up once (or twice) didn't matter. (As a side note, another thing that baffles me in the Fundy church is how they automatically assume that the person who screws up once with sexual sin had to fall really far from God to do it. Most of these people have had "godly" sex themselves, so they should know how easy it is to get from kissing to "Oh my God, why are my clothes all the way over there and what did we just do?" Despite this, however, and despite the story of David in the Bible, the belief persists that the sexual sinner has been backsliding for a long time. This David I mention just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. The Bible doesn't say anything about how his heart wandered from God before he caught an eyeful of his married neighbor taking a bath and had her over for a little tea and adultery later that night. In fact, I'd be willing to bet he was up on that roof working on another psalm of praise to God. Let me tell you folks, the road to sin is really short, and it includes all sins, not a select few that require a serious turning of the back toward God to commit. I'm not sure if it's fear, ignorance, or self-righteous pride that makes Fundies think otherwise, but they might find themselves guilty of judgment toward others a lot less often if they didn't assume that they, in their highly spiritually mature state, could never share in the shameful failings of their brother and sister vagabonds.)
No one insisted that I get accountability or go into counseling in all the years I struggled with gluttony. I committed that sin thousands of times, but people seemed to understand that it was a tough weakness to overcome and I wasn't any less of a Christian because I hadn't mastered it yet. I committed a sexual sin, though, and I was seriously in the dog house. There was no room for the possibility that I might struggle long into the future with my sexual desires. There was no room for me to screw up again, as there'd been when my sin was merely one of eating too big a portion at dinner. I had "disgraced" myself. I had been "defiled." And unlike the glutton, I could be tempted, but woe unto me if I should fall again. Sex just isn't one of those sins you're allowed to struggle with and still be a-okay with God.
Now it might sound like I'm making light of my wrong choices, but I'm not. I'm merely illustrating one of the ways in which Fundy-ism is WAY out of balance. Fundies (or at least most Fundies) say that all sins are equal in God's eyes; they just forget to add the disclaimer that in the eyes of His devoted followers, some sins are far worse than others. The fact is, all sinners should be treated the same. Either the sexual sinner should be given the same grace and understanding as the glutton, or the glutton should be dealt with at the same severity level as the sexual sinner. It's not fair to give one kind of sinner a free pass while shaming another kind of sinner. If the sexual sinner isn't allowed the grace of multiple screw-ups before he or she overcomes, the glutton shouldn't get those second chances either. See what I mean?
Now I understand that there are differences between these two types of sin, but I also know that this kind of hypocrisy deeply wounds people. And I do understand why this hypocrisy exists, but that's subject matter for another post.
Becoming Gomer has many dangers, not the least of which is the anger and hurt a person has to struggle with once they get out from under the thumb of the Fundies. And because I invested myself so fully in Fundy-ism, experiencing its harsher side has felt like the deepest of betrayals. But hey, at least it's an "equal opportunity judgment" kind of religion.
This has been on my mind this week because a very close friend recently dealt me a blow that I'm having difficulty processing or understanding, and this is making it very difficult to let go and forgive. For reasons my heart can't really understand, one of my best friends - someone who had always told me I'd be her maid of honor - chose to get married last weekend without inviting me to the ceremony. In fact, I wouldn't have even known of her engagement had her mother not called me to talk over her concerns about the relationship. If we'd had a fight or a falling out, or even if I'd expressed my concerns about her choice of boyfriends, I could understand her decision, but none of those things happened. Instead, she just disappeared and stopped answering my calls. I know from others that she's not angry with me, and without sharing too much of her personal situation, I know I can fairly say that I haven't given her any reason to do this. But she's chosen to do it, all the same, and because I feel like the innocent party in the situation, I'm having a very difficult time forgiving. In fact, I"m downright pissed off. She knows I'm upset, but she hasn't chosen to call me, and truthfully, that's probably a good thing. I fear if she calls too soon, I'll say things that will hurt her and do more harm than good.
Forgiveness is one of those things that's central for the Christ follower, which is why this is something I'm trying to explore. For us, everything hinges on forgiveness because Jesus says you can't be forgiven if you don't forgive, and I think that's only fair. So someone like me who desperately needs all the forgiveness and grace God has to give on a daily basis can't afford to hang on to the hurt. Sounds great on paper, but in real life it's far more complicated.
I wish I could say I had this figured out, but this is the second really deep wound I've taken from a close friend in the past year, and I haven't done so well at forgiving the first, let alone dealing with this second incident. I've found that most things are easy for me to forgive, but when someone I love and trust makes me feel betrayed, abandoned and disowned... well, those things strike at really vulnerable spots. I think, in a way, that's why I'm angry at Fundamentalism, and even, at times, at Fundamentalists.
When you invest yourself in someone or something without reserve, you put yourself at great risk for pain. When you love, it's a gamble. That's not to say it isn't worth it when it pays off, but when it doesn't... let's just say it's easy to understand why some people close themselves off.
The first deep wound I mentioned came from a friend in whom I had wholly invested myself. She was a girlfriend, a leader, a mentor, and a spiritual parent, and because I loved her so much, I invested my hopes, my dreams, my support, and my love in her. The details of what happened between us aren't important here, and I'm no longer angry at her for the decisions she made. In fact, the only thing I can say about the situation is "Thank God I got out when I did." But what did make me angry, what stabbed so painfully and still gets to me when I let myself think on it, is the feeling of betrayal and abandonment, the sense that after I gave so much of my heart and strength for something that mattered to her, she could leave me behind. No parent would disown a son or daughter for making a mistake, but it would seem that a "spiritual parent" can and will. And it is this issue that lies at the crux of my distaste for Fundamentalism.
On the whole, Fundies aren't very good at understanding grace the way I'm coming to understand it. Now, granted, there are some who get it more than others, but even they have their limits. Within Fundy-ism there are lots of sins you can commit, but most of them can be forgiven and forgotten. Some sins - I like to call them "the big 5" - can't. Or perhaps I should say they can, but the Fundies don't give you any room to do battle with them. Their solution is to repent, cut off and move on. Let's do a comparison to illustrate. Homosexuality - actually any sexual sin - is one of those "big 5" sins for Fundies. (Believe it or not, I've even known some who thought it to be the dreaded "unforgiveable sin." Pure bullshit!) Gluttony is a sin, but it's one that most Fundies "wink" at. In the Fundy church, the glutton can struggle for years with overeating and sloth. The glutton can repent and re-fall every day. The glutton can diet and do well for a season and then backslide and give up for a season and still be forgiveable and live without the added guilt and shame of being a "sinner." Most Fundies won't even think twice about the glutton's sinful behavior. In fact, they don't even view it as sinful. And the glutton can be looked to by the church as a "godly" man or woman.
Switch gears now and look at the homosexual or the person who commits a sexual sin. Now we're in totally different territory. The sexual sinner dare not re-commit his or her sin. The sexual sinner isn't allowed to do well for a season and then backslide or give up for a season. If he does, he never really repented. He's unspiritual. He's in danger of the fires of hell. And you can bet your ass that the Fundy church will heap guilt, condemnation and disapproval on the trespasser's head. If the sexual sinner slips up, he or she has clearly fallen far from God and is most decidedly not a "godly" man or woman. I've known numerous overweight and even morbidly obese pastors who have clearly been living in unbridled sin for a number of years, but they are loved and respected and considered "godly" by their congregations, despite their unfortunate weaknesses. If those same men, or another pastor altogether, happened to commit a sexual sin - even once - they would be run out of town in disgrace - judged, despised and gossipped about
It is this kind of hypocrisy that reallly pisses me off in Fundy-ism, and it is this hypocrisy that I have to fight to forgive. I've been both of those sinners. For years I struggled with gluttony. In all that time, I was acceptable. If I blew it and downed 8 cookies in one sitting, I could just repent and try again the next day. I still got to be godly, and people still looked up to me as a model of heartfelt devotion to God. Then, after years of walking a very straight and careful line, I let down my guard and had sex with a guy I was dating. Whole different story. Suddenly, there were "steps to be taken toward freedom." I had committed one of the "big 5," and the fact that I'd only screwed up once (or twice) didn't matter. (As a side note, another thing that baffles me in the Fundy church is how they automatically assume that the person who screws up once with sexual sin had to fall really far from God to do it. Most of these people have had "godly" sex themselves, so they should know how easy it is to get from kissing to "Oh my God, why are my clothes all the way over there and what did we just do?" Despite this, however, and despite the story of David in the Bible, the belief persists that the sexual sinner has been backsliding for a long time. This David I mention just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. The Bible doesn't say anything about how his heart wandered from God before he caught an eyeful of his married neighbor taking a bath and had her over for a little tea and adultery later that night. In fact, I'd be willing to bet he was up on that roof working on another psalm of praise to God. Let me tell you folks, the road to sin is really short, and it includes all sins, not a select few that require a serious turning of the back toward God to commit. I'm not sure if it's fear, ignorance, or self-righteous pride that makes Fundies think otherwise, but they might find themselves guilty of judgment toward others a lot less often if they didn't assume that they, in their highly spiritually mature state, could never share in the shameful failings of their brother and sister vagabonds.)
No one insisted that I get accountability or go into counseling in all the years I struggled with gluttony. I committed that sin thousands of times, but people seemed to understand that it was a tough weakness to overcome and I wasn't any less of a Christian because I hadn't mastered it yet. I committed a sexual sin, though, and I was seriously in the dog house. There was no room for the possibility that I might struggle long into the future with my sexual desires. There was no room for me to screw up again, as there'd been when my sin was merely one of eating too big a portion at dinner. I had "disgraced" myself. I had been "defiled." And unlike the glutton, I could be tempted, but woe unto me if I should fall again. Sex just isn't one of those sins you're allowed to struggle with and still be a-okay with God.
Now it might sound like I'm making light of my wrong choices, but I'm not. I'm merely illustrating one of the ways in which Fundy-ism is WAY out of balance. Fundies (or at least most Fundies) say that all sins are equal in God's eyes; they just forget to add the disclaimer that in the eyes of His devoted followers, some sins are far worse than others. The fact is, all sinners should be treated the same. Either the sexual sinner should be given the same grace and understanding as the glutton, or the glutton should be dealt with at the same severity level as the sexual sinner. It's not fair to give one kind of sinner a free pass while shaming another kind of sinner. If the sexual sinner isn't allowed the grace of multiple screw-ups before he or she overcomes, the glutton shouldn't get those second chances either. See what I mean?
Now I understand that there are differences between these two types of sin, but I also know that this kind of hypocrisy deeply wounds people. And I do understand why this hypocrisy exists, but that's subject matter for another post.
Becoming Gomer has many dangers, not the least of which is the anger and hurt a person has to struggle with once they get out from under the thumb of the Fundies. And because I invested myself so fully in Fundy-ism, experiencing its harsher side has felt like the deepest of betrayals. But hey, at least it's an "equal opportunity judgment" kind of religion.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Relevant Faith = Real World Relationships
One of the issues that frequently occupies my thoughts is the importance of relevant spirituality. By this I mean a spirituality that works in our day, time and culture. One of the hallmarks of truth is that it has always been and always will be truth. It never changes, though our perception or understanding of it might as we comprehend it at deeper levels or from different angles. But truth is timeless, and therefore, it is always relevant, no matter the culture. This means that, for a Christ follower, the truth he or she lives by must also be relevant to the culture in which the Christ follower lives.
When we get into this subject matter, we start getting into really sticky ground. On the one hand, truth must be relevant, but on the other it mustn't change. And I will be the first person to raise my hand and admit that I haven't figured out the balance of this just yet. On the one side you have the Fundies. (I know it sounds like I'm tearing these poor folks to shreds in most of my posts, but I really don't mean to. I just disagree with so much of what they're doing, even though I know they're doing it with the best of intentions.) They are so dedicated to the truth that they no longer have a relevant, relatable spirituality. Sorry, folks, but when you sit through a movie like "Saved" and watch Fundamentalism in action, you can't help but see how far out in left field the Fundies have gotten. Their spirituality doesn't appeal to me, let alone the agnostic, the atheist or the seeker. Most Fundies are so concerned about not compromising their faith that they are completely unrelatable and "not real" to the average Joe. And they have this notion that people will reject them now, but when they have a need they'll be banging down the Fundies' door asking for prayer, guidance and help. Not gonna happen. Newsflash: Most people don't trust Fundies, and they sure as hell don't want their canned bullshit. I've talked to enough people who don't embrace Christian spirituality (thanks for coining this phrase, Donald Miller!) to know that that's how they view most of what Christians say.
I can't tell you how many times I saw this lack of relevance in my ministry years, and it always happened with people who were genuine and sincere in their pursuit of God. I remember a few particular incidents where we were instructed to hit the streets with tracts and "share the love of Jesus with people." Even then, in the innocent fire of devotion, I remember thinking that what we were doing was never going to work, that the days of knocking on doors and passing out tracts were long over and someone forgot to send the memo to the church. I knew we looked ridiculous, and even briefly entertained the thought (which I rapidly dismissed as most sinful) that we were doing nothing but making Jesus look pretty damn ridiculous too. I kept my thoughts to myself and soundly chastised myself for being "ashamed of the gospel." I told myself that every good Christian was zealous to tell people about Jesus and rescue them from the pit of hell to which they were currently headed. I was so ashamed of my traitorous thoughts that I couldn't see how true they were. I couldn't admit the possibility that maybe, just maybe, common sense was actually trying to communicate something to me.
The sad part of all of this is that Christ followers actually do have the truth, the hope, the insight, the help that this world is silently begging for. Even if I haven't fully found Jesus to be MY answer, I still believe that He is and wants to be and will be. And I believe this is true for everyone, no matter their situation. However, we have to find a way that share that answer - to LIVE that answer - that allows it to be relevant.
One of the reasons I believe Christians lack relevancy is the fact that they don't really live in the real world. They work there, and they may even have a few "unbelieving" family, friends or neighbors with whom they connect, but few of them really LIVE in the real world. Up until the last year, I was part and parcel of the whole deal. I couldn't name you one friend that I had who didn't share my faith. Most of the people I knew were the same way. Most Fundies have isolated themselves on an invisible island, and the only people allowed to visit that island are other Fundies. "Unbelieving" family and (the occasional) friends are sources of distress, partially because they don't want these loved ones to end up in hell (a legitimate concern) and partially because the Fundy can't really relate to them.
Most Fundies are happy to keep things this way. It's safer and more comfortable to stay on the island than it is to make one's home on the mainland and deal with the real world close up. The few Christians who dare to live in the real world are considered worldly, lukewarm, halfhearted, uncommitted, and unspiritual. Yes, that's right. The isolated few who actually do with Jesus did, live in among the sinners, are unspiritual in the eyes of most of the church. And I know this because I was once one of the "spiritual" ones, and I looked down on people who listened to secular music (cracks me up because I can't use the word secular anymore. The only people I know who know what that means are, or were, Fundies.), people who went to R-rated movies, girls who didn't wear safety shirts (undershirts that were worn to make sure the back and crack wouldn't show if a gal bent over to pick something up), people who kissed before marriage, people who went to clubs, people who had wine with dinner or kept beer in their fridge. Yeah, I was pretty much a self-satisfied spiritual asshole. And because I abstained from all these "ungodly" behaviors, I was supposedly a more godly person. Bullshit.
All that has changed as I've taken this journey. I no longer have patience with people who are so afraid of dirtying their hands that they won't jump down in the mudpit with the hurting. I no longer consider myself "spiritually mature." Instead, I'm a seeker. And now I live in the real world among real people, and those real people actually trust me with deep and personal things because they know I'm not going to shove some Fundy answer at them. Let me give you an example of this.
I'm beginning to develop a rather strong friendship with my carpool buddy. (I also owe her for coining the term "Fundy"!) She happens to be an atheist who leans far to the Left politically. She knows I'm a Christ follower, so this makes for a lot of interesting conversation. But here's the deal. I'm real with her. I'm honest with her. I don't try to play myself up as being someone who's got it all together or who has the corner on spirituality. I'm honest about my doubts and my struggles. I'm straightforward about the problems I see in the church. And because I don't hand her bullshit, she trusts me and is becoming a real friend. Now a few weeks back we were talking on our way to work one morning. I was updating her on my progress through the "Sex and the City" series. (All Fundy readers just lost all confidence in my spirituality and are dropping to their knees in prayer.) Like most Fundies, I had never seen an episode, but this spring when I moved into my new apartment, my roommate decided that I needed to be "corrupted." Now I will admit that this show is beyond racy, and in former days I wouldn't have sat through the first episode, but times have changed. That, however, is not my point.
My friend and I were discussing the relationship plot of one of the characters in the series, and without having any ulterior spiritual motive to preach a moral, just in the context of the conversation, I told her that I don't really think the definition that show gives of love is actually anything like what real love is. She asked me what I meant, so I told her that their definition of love is actually a very selfish thing. They "love" someone because that person makes them feel good or satisfies them in some way. When that person stops "doing it" for them, they stop loving them. Then I told her that I believe real love is unconditional. It's selfless and sacrificial. I believe that real love causes you to choose to pursue another person's highest good, even at cost to yourself. She didn't say much to that, and the conversation moved on to other things, but she got quiet. I finally asked her if everything was okay, and she said she had been thinking about what I'd said about love. She said that she is a bit of a slob and her husband is always asking her to work on being a bit neater. Then she said, "I was thinking about your definition of love, I think that if I look at this that way, it will make it easier for me to do what he's asking me to do, because if I really love him, I'll be willing to do what's best for him, even if it costs me a little extra effort."
WOW. In that moment, I knew I was right where God wanted me. I was sharing truth. I was laying a foundation to share Jesus someday. I was living a faith that was relevant and real, and I was sharing that faith with someone who would have rejected it had it come in traditional Fundy packaging. And all of those things happened because I was living in the real world, just sharing conversation with a friend. I didn't have an ulterior motive. I wasn't moralizing or trying to convert her. I wasn't perched on a box, shouting truth at the top of my lungs. I wasn't waving a sign tattooed with John 3:16. I was just giving her an insight into who I am and how I see the world. Relevant spirituality.
I'll be the first to admit that for every time I get it right, there are ten times I get it wrong, but I'm learning not to fear being wrong the way I once did. Granted, I don't want to get it wrong, but getting it wrong is how we learn, and if nothing else, I've left the safety of the island behind me forever. I've dared to live in the real world and make mistakes because I believe that in doing so I can reach the real world more effectively.
Finally, I do want to say that I don't believe that making spirituality relevant should involve compromising the truth. I'm not going to get into how compromise should be defined because the Fundies won't agree with my view, and I don't have the time or enough understanding to explore the issue yet. Making Christian spirituality relevant doesn't mean that we "de-salt" it. It doesn't mean that we make it so palatable that it loses all its flavor. The hard part of all of this is that Jesus Christ and what He stands for are at odds with much of what our world stands for. That's why we need Him. But it also means He irritates us. He says a lot of things I don't like. They go against my grain and make me uncomfortable. They aren't easy. Relevant faith can't dare lose this because to do so is to lose the very thing that makes it worth investing in.
This is an issue that isn't black and white, and as I said before, I don't have it all sorted out yet. But I think that my encounter with my friend is a good example of relevant faith. What I shared with her was salty. It was an irritant. It challenged her to change her behavior. But in doing all of this, it also somehow managed to avoid offending her. It wasn't preachy. It wasn't judgmental. And I think that's what we need to aim for.
When we get into this subject matter, we start getting into really sticky ground. On the one hand, truth must be relevant, but on the other it mustn't change. And I will be the first person to raise my hand and admit that I haven't figured out the balance of this just yet. On the one side you have the Fundies. (I know it sounds like I'm tearing these poor folks to shreds in most of my posts, but I really don't mean to. I just disagree with so much of what they're doing, even though I know they're doing it with the best of intentions.) They are so dedicated to the truth that they no longer have a relevant, relatable spirituality. Sorry, folks, but when you sit through a movie like "Saved" and watch Fundamentalism in action, you can't help but see how far out in left field the Fundies have gotten. Their spirituality doesn't appeal to me, let alone the agnostic, the atheist or the seeker. Most Fundies are so concerned about not compromising their faith that they are completely unrelatable and "not real" to the average Joe. And they have this notion that people will reject them now, but when they have a need they'll be banging down the Fundies' door asking for prayer, guidance and help. Not gonna happen. Newsflash: Most people don't trust Fundies, and they sure as hell don't want their canned bullshit. I've talked to enough people who don't embrace Christian spirituality (thanks for coining this phrase, Donald Miller!) to know that that's how they view most of what Christians say.
I can't tell you how many times I saw this lack of relevance in my ministry years, and it always happened with people who were genuine and sincere in their pursuit of God. I remember a few particular incidents where we were instructed to hit the streets with tracts and "share the love of Jesus with people." Even then, in the innocent fire of devotion, I remember thinking that what we were doing was never going to work, that the days of knocking on doors and passing out tracts were long over and someone forgot to send the memo to the church. I knew we looked ridiculous, and even briefly entertained the thought (which I rapidly dismissed as most sinful) that we were doing nothing but making Jesus look pretty damn ridiculous too. I kept my thoughts to myself and soundly chastised myself for being "ashamed of the gospel." I told myself that every good Christian was zealous to tell people about Jesus and rescue them from the pit of hell to which they were currently headed. I was so ashamed of my traitorous thoughts that I couldn't see how true they were. I couldn't admit the possibility that maybe, just maybe, common sense was actually trying to communicate something to me.
The sad part of all of this is that Christ followers actually do have the truth, the hope, the insight, the help that this world is silently begging for. Even if I haven't fully found Jesus to be MY answer, I still believe that He is and wants to be and will be. And I believe this is true for everyone, no matter their situation. However, we have to find a way that share that answer - to LIVE that answer - that allows it to be relevant.
One of the reasons I believe Christians lack relevancy is the fact that they don't really live in the real world. They work there, and they may even have a few "unbelieving" family, friends or neighbors with whom they connect, but few of them really LIVE in the real world. Up until the last year, I was part and parcel of the whole deal. I couldn't name you one friend that I had who didn't share my faith. Most of the people I knew were the same way. Most Fundies have isolated themselves on an invisible island, and the only people allowed to visit that island are other Fundies. "Unbelieving" family and (the occasional) friends are sources of distress, partially because they don't want these loved ones to end up in hell (a legitimate concern) and partially because the Fundy can't really relate to them.
Most Fundies are happy to keep things this way. It's safer and more comfortable to stay on the island than it is to make one's home on the mainland and deal with the real world close up. The few Christians who dare to live in the real world are considered worldly, lukewarm, halfhearted, uncommitted, and unspiritual. Yes, that's right. The isolated few who actually do with Jesus did, live in among the sinners, are unspiritual in the eyes of most of the church. And I know this because I was once one of the "spiritual" ones, and I looked down on people who listened to secular music (cracks me up because I can't use the word secular anymore. The only people I know who know what that means are, or were, Fundies.), people who went to R-rated movies, girls who didn't wear safety shirts (undershirts that were worn to make sure the back and crack wouldn't show if a gal bent over to pick something up), people who kissed before marriage, people who went to clubs, people who had wine with dinner or kept beer in their fridge. Yeah, I was pretty much a self-satisfied spiritual asshole. And because I abstained from all these "ungodly" behaviors, I was supposedly a more godly person. Bullshit.
All that has changed as I've taken this journey. I no longer have patience with people who are so afraid of dirtying their hands that they won't jump down in the mudpit with the hurting. I no longer consider myself "spiritually mature." Instead, I'm a seeker. And now I live in the real world among real people, and those real people actually trust me with deep and personal things because they know I'm not going to shove some Fundy answer at them. Let me give you an example of this.
I'm beginning to develop a rather strong friendship with my carpool buddy. (I also owe her for coining the term "Fundy"!) She happens to be an atheist who leans far to the Left politically. She knows I'm a Christ follower, so this makes for a lot of interesting conversation. But here's the deal. I'm real with her. I'm honest with her. I don't try to play myself up as being someone who's got it all together or who has the corner on spirituality. I'm honest about my doubts and my struggles. I'm straightforward about the problems I see in the church. And because I don't hand her bullshit, she trusts me and is becoming a real friend. Now a few weeks back we were talking on our way to work one morning. I was updating her on my progress through the "Sex and the City" series. (All Fundy readers just lost all confidence in my spirituality and are dropping to their knees in prayer.) Like most Fundies, I had never seen an episode, but this spring when I moved into my new apartment, my roommate decided that I needed to be "corrupted." Now I will admit that this show is beyond racy, and in former days I wouldn't have sat through the first episode, but times have changed. That, however, is not my point.
My friend and I were discussing the relationship plot of one of the characters in the series, and without having any ulterior spiritual motive to preach a moral, just in the context of the conversation, I told her that I don't really think the definition that show gives of love is actually anything like what real love is. She asked me what I meant, so I told her that their definition of love is actually a very selfish thing. They "love" someone because that person makes them feel good or satisfies them in some way. When that person stops "doing it" for them, they stop loving them. Then I told her that I believe real love is unconditional. It's selfless and sacrificial. I believe that real love causes you to choose to pursue another person's highest good, even at cost to yourself. She didn't say much to that, and the conversation moved on to other things, but she got quiet. I finally asked her if everything was okay, and she said she had been thinking about what I'd said about love. She said that she is a bit of a slob and her husband is always asking her to work on being a bit neater. Then she said, "I was thinking about your definition of love, I think that if I look at this that way, it will make it easier for me to do what he's asking me to do, because if I really love him, I'll be willing to do what's best for him, even if it costs me a little extra effort."
WOW. In that moment, I knew I was right where God wanted me. I was sharing truth. I was laying a foundation to share Jesus someday. I was living a faith that was relevant and real, and I was sharing that faith with someone who would have rejected it had it come in traditional Fundy packaging. And all of those things happened because I was living in the real world, just sharing conversation with a friend. I didn't have an ulterior motive. I wasn't moralizing or trying to convert her. I wasn't perched on a box, shouting truth at the top of my lungs. I wasn't waving a sign tattooed with John 3:16. I was just giving her an insight into who I am and how I see the world. Relevant spirituality.
I'll be the first to admit that for every time I get it right, there are ten times I get it wrong, but I'm learning not to fear being wrong the way I once did. Granted, I don't want to get it wrong, but getting it wrong is how we learn, and if nothing else, I've left the safety of the island behind me forever. I've dared to live in the real world and make mistakes because I believe that in doing so I can reach the real world more effectively.
Finally, I do want to say that I don't believe that making spirituality relevant should involve compromising the truth. I'm not going to get into how compromise should be defined because the Fundies won't agree with my view, and I don't have the time or enough understanding to explore the issue yet. Making Christian spirituality relevant doesn't mean that we "de-salt" it. It doesn't mean that we make it so palatable that it loses all its flavor. The hard part of all of this is that Jesus Christ and what He stands for are at odds with much of what our world stands for. That's why we need Him. But it also means He irritates us. He says a lot of things I don't like. They go against my grain and make me uncomfortable. They aren't easy. Relevant faith can't dare lose this because to do so is to lose the very thing that makes it worth investing in.
This is an issue that isn't black and white, and as I said before, I don't have it all sorted out yet. But I think that my encounter with my friend is a good example of relevant faith. What I shared with her was salty. It was an irritant. It challenged her to change her behavior. But in doing all of this, it also somehow managed to avoid offending her. It wasn't preachy. It wasn't judgmental. And I think that's what we need to aim for.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Wrestling with God
It's kind of amazing to me how two different Christians can interpret a scripture in two completely opposite ways. The one that's been on my mind for the last day or so is in Genesis where the story is told of how Jacob wrestled with God.
Last year I was given an enormous personal decision to make regarding a relocation to an entirely new region. Certain "acquaintances" of mine (their terminology, not mine) felt that "God's will" for me was very clear. I, however, did not find it clear at all. When asked about it, I confessed that I was still wrestling with God over the matter. Oh, the response! "Be careful not to wrestle with God about it too long. Remember what happened to Jacob! He wrestled with God and God had to make him lame because of it." Gee, thanks. That makes me feel so much better. Now I have this huge decision to make AND I'm being threatened with divine retribution if I don't come up with the right answer before the buzzer goes off!
The pastor of the church I currently attend has a different perspective, one that really resonates with me, especially where I am at this point in my life. I was in conversation about it with my friend Trish and brought up a message he preached on the subject a few months back. When her husband came home and joined our conversation, he brought up the same sermon without knowing we had already discussed it. Thought that was awesome! But it has put the whole concept of wrestling with God in the forefront of my mind today. You see, my pastor believes that wrestling with God is actually a good thing. He talked about how there are things in our lives that we have to wrestle with God over. The fact that we're even wrestling is good, if for no other reason, because it indicates that God is at work in us and we are recognizing that and engaging Him over an issue. Wrestling with God means that relationship is happening, change is occurring. In fact, I was thinking just last night about the fact that Jacob wasn't really changed into the man he was meant to be until he wrestled with God.
So I think wrestling is a good thing. I think it's a necessary thing for any person who desires authentic spirituality and a close, genuine relationship with God - the kind of relationship in which a person can understand God.
I bring all this wrestling stuff up because if I were to characterize where I have been over the past few months, it is there. I run and I wrestle. Yes, it's as unpleasant as it sounds. But I do so because I believe this is the path I need to take.
My current wrestlings (actually much of my wrestling overall) has to do with the Fundy concept of sin and obedience. Before any Fundies freak out on me, I still believe in the Bible as the authority on these matters. I believe in black and white. I don't believe that I can just pick and choose a "custom fit" salvation plan with a designer Jesus to match. But I'm still wrestling because for the first time in my life I'm admitting that I don't like or understand all the "house rules." I don't want to obey all of them. (There are one or two in particular that I'm really wrestling with at present. They make sense to me when I look at them through my "technically correct" Fundy eyes, but in light of the art and beauty I don't think they're such a big deal.) Being in this position would have freaked me out at one time, and to a certain extent it still does, but when I think about Jacob and what it means to wrestle with God, I think that being where I am and doing what I'm doing is a very good thing. As I told Trish and Dan last night, "I need a better reason to do the right thing than the fact that it's the right thing to do." (I congratulated myself on the fact that Trish seemed to find this a very profound thought. LOL.)
Now as a Fundy, I would have fought with that statement of mine tooth and nail. I would have taken it down like the heresy I would have believed it to be. And there is something to be said for doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do. That's not what I'm really knocking. What I'm really looking for, though, is a more personal reason to do right, a more mature understanding of why God issues certain "house rules." You might say I'm growing up. See, when you're a kid, you're expected to do as Dad says and not ask questions. Then there are the teenage years when a kid needs a bigger reason to do the right thing. It's not enough that "Dad says so." The rules and guidelines need a bigger context than black and white. And through those teenage years, a child might be said to "wrestle" with his parents, but in the end most emerge on the other side as mature adults who are able to interact with their parents on a whole different plane. They've weighed the rules and tested the boundaries. They've owned the guidelines they will live by, and adopted (or rejected) Dad's rules for personal reasons. And in doing so, they've become capable of a much richer, far more mature interaction with their parents than a child with his blind acceptance of commands. It might be said that, in having wrestled with his father, a son comes to understand his father's heart in the commands he gives, while a child's knowledge of that mysterious place is limited.
And so I wrestle. I find myself battling with God over things He says we should or shouldn't do. Sometimes it's because His ways and purposes don't make sense to me. Sometimes it's because they do, but in spite of that I want my own way. But even in this, I sense that some part of His heart is pleased with me, if for no other reason than that I have finally engaged Him on a deeper level and begun to interact with Him in the profound kind of way that really lets Him do in me the kind of thing He does best.
For so many years I obeyed without questioning. I was just like that little child. Dad said it, I did it. It was unconditonal surrender. Now we wrestle, and because we do, He has the chance to really get down beneath the superficial surrenders of an unknowing child to the place where He can do business with the deeper levels of my heart.
One of the problems that I find myself running into as I do this wrestling, though, is that far too often I don't actually wrestle. I just avoid. It's one of the reasons I haven't been to my church in six weeks. It's not that I don't want to be in church. I love my church. I feel safe there, as though God really has some beautiful and meaningful things to teach me there. I feel like there's a place of healing there for the bruises that Fundy-ism left on my soul. But I also have to contend with truth there. I have to face myself honestly when we sing songs to God and I can't mean all the wonderful things that are coming out of my mouth. I mean some of them, but most of them I just want to mean. I also find myself coming face to face with the fact that there are a few very specific house rules that God has made very black and white that I really don't want to pay attention to. In fact, if given the opportunity, I would be more than likely to ignore them and do just as I please.
I suppose this too is part of the wrestling, but it's a most uncomfortable place for me to be in. Playing the role of the submissive child is one that tends to come more naturally to me, so it's awkward and unsettling to be in the place where I can no longer make myself be that child.
I can think of more than one Fundy who would say I'm in a very dangerous place, and perhaps they are right. But I also can't help but think that this journey is God's very strange answer to all my very sincere prayers of Fundy days, and that when I come to the end of it and am sent on yet another, I will say I am glad to have made it and that wrestling with God has made my interaction with Him rich and deep and all that I really wanted it to be.
Last year I was given an enormous personal decision to make regarding a relocation to an entirely new region. Certain "acquaintances" of mine (their terminology, not mine) felt that "God's will" for me was very clear. I, however, did not find it clear at all. When asked about it, I confessed that I was still wrestling with God over the matter. Oh, the response! "Be careful not to wrestle with God about it too long. Remember what happened to Jacob! He wrestled with God and God had to make him lame because of it." Gee, thanks. That makes me feel so much better. Now I have this huge decision to make AND I'm being threatened with divine retribution if I don't come up with the right answer before the buzzer goes off!
The pastor of the church I currently attend has a different perspective, one that really resonates with me, especially where I am at this point in my life. I was in conversation about it with my friend Trish and brought up a message he preached on the subject a few months back. When her husband came home and joined our conversation, he brought up the same sermon without knowing we had already discussed it. Thought that was awesome! But it has put the whole concept of wrestling with God in the forefront of my mind today. You see, my pastor believes that wrestling with God is actually a good thing. He talked about how there are things in our lives that we have to wrestle with God over. The fact that we're even wrestling is good, if for no other reason, because it indicates that God is at work in us and we are recognizing that and engaging Him over an issue. Wrestling with God means that relationship is happening, change is occurring. In fact, I was thinking just last night about the fact that Jacob wasn't really changed into the man he was meant to be until he wrestled with God.
So I think wrestling is a good thing. I think it's a necessary thing for any person who desires authentic spirituality and a close, genuine relationship with God - the kind of relationship in which a person can understand God.
I bring all this wrestling stuff up because if I were to characterize where I have been over the past few months, it is there. I run and I wrestle. Yes, it's as unpleasant as it sounds. But I do so because I believe this is the path I need to take.
My current wrestlings (actually much of my wrestling overall) has to do with the Fundy concept of sin and obedience. Before any Fundies freak out on me, I still believe in the Bible as the authority on these matters. I believe in black and white. I don't believe that I can just pick and choose a "custom fit" salvation plan with a designer Jesus to match. But I'm still wrestling because for the first time in my life I'm admitting that I don't like or understand all the "house rules." I don't want to obey all of them. (There are one or two in particular that I'm really wrestling with at present. They make sense to me when I look at them through my "technically correct" Fundy eyes, but in light of the art and beauty I don't think they're such a big deal.) Being in this position would have freaked me out at one time, and to a certain extent it still does, but when I think about Jacob and what it means to wrestle with God, I think that being where I am and doing what I'm doing is a very good thing. As I told Trish and Dan last night, "I need a better reason to do the right thing than the fact that it's the right thing to do." (I congratulated myself on the fact that Trish seemed to find this a very profound thought. LOL.)
Now as a Fundy, I would have fought with that statement of mine tooth and nail. I would have taken it down like the heresy I would have believed it to be. And there is something to be said for doing the right thing because it's the right thing to do. That's not what I'm really knocking. What I'm really looking for, though, is a more personal reason to do right, a more mature understanding of why God issues certain "house rules." You might say I'm growing up. See, when you're a kid, you're expected to do as Dad says and not ask questions. Then there are the teenage years when a kid needs a bigger reason to do the right thing. It's not enough that "Dad says so." The rules and guidelines need a bigger context than black and white. And through those teenage years, a child might be said to "wrestle" with his parents, but in the end most emerge on the other side as mature adults who are able to interact with their parents on a whole different plane. They've weighed the rules and tested the boundaries. They've owned the guidelines they will live by, and adopted (or rejected) Dad's rules for personal reasons. And in doing so, they've become capable of a much richer, far more mature interaction with their parents than a child with his blind acceptance of commands. It might be said that, in having wrestled with his father, a son comes to understand his father's heart in the commands he gives, while a child's knowledge of that mysterious place is limited.
And so I wrestle. I find myself battling with God over things He says we should or shouldn't do. Sometimes it's because His ways and purposes don't make sense to me. Sometimes it's because they do, but in spite of that I want my own way. But even in this, I sense that some part of His heart is pleased with me, if for no other reason than that I have finally engaged Him on a deeper level and begun to interact with Him in the profound kind of way that really lets Him do in me the kind of thing He does best.
For so many years I obeyed without questioning. I was just like that little child. Dad said it, I did it. It was unconditonal surrender. Now we wrestle, and because we do, He has the chance to really get down beneath the superficial surrenders of an unknowing child to the place where He can do business with the deeper levels of my heart.
One of the problems that I find myself running into as I do this wrestling, though, is that far too often I don't actually wrestle. I just avoid. It's one of the reasons I haven't been to my church in six weeks. It's not that I don't want to be in church. I love my church. I feel safe there, as though God really has some beautiful and meaningful things to teach me there. I feel like there's a place of healing there for the bruises that Fundy-ism left on my soul. But I also have to contend with truth there. I have to face myself honestly when we sing songs to God and I can't mean all the wonderful things that are coming out of my mouth. I mean some of them, but most of them I just want to mean. I also find myself coming face to face with the fact that there are a few very specific house rules that God has made very black and white that I really don't want to pay attention to. In fact, if given the opportunity, I would be more than likely to ignore them and do just as I please.
I suppose this too is part of the wrestling, but it's a most uncomfortable place for me to be in. Playing the role of the submissive child is one that tends to come more naturally to me, so it's awkward and unsettling to be in the place where I can no longer make myself be that child.
I can think of more than one Fundy who would say I'm in a very dangerous place, and perhaps they are right. But I also can't help but think that this journey is God's very strange answer to all my very sincere prayers of Fundy days, and that when I come to the end of it and am sent on yet another, I will say I am glad to have made it and that wrestling with God has made my interaction with Him rich and deep and all that I really wanted it to be.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Running Away
My friend Dan posed an interesting question, and again I think it's one that deserves to be explored. He asked why I (or Gomer) would run away from the best thing that's ever happened to me. In some ways that's a question that's impossible to answer. It's going to be something different for every "Gomer." As far as the historical Gomer is concerned, there's no record to tell us what made her decide to leave, so any thoughts I have on the subject would be mere conjecture. However, I can tell you why I ran away, though the reasons are complex.
I guess I should start by saying that, for me, running away isn't about leaving forever. It's about trying to find home. It's about recognizing that this is supposed to be the best thing that's ever happened to me, but the reality has fallen far short. In one sense, Hosea (Jesus) is the best thing that's ever happened to me. The problem is that Jesus (and my relationship with Him) has become so deeply entangled with my Fundy background that I can't entirely separate Him from it to experience Him in a purely undiluted way. So much of my experience of Him and perception of Him is skewed by the areas of Fundy thinking that are funky that I have a really hard time reaching out and connecting with Him without bringing all that other crap with me. It's like someone has embedded a lens on my eyes that has twisted the truthful images I see until they are so distorted I can't see them truthfully. I'm trying to dig out that lens, because until I do I'm never going to be able to see clearly and experience truthfully. Let me try to give you a concrete example.
During most of my last ten or so years in the Fundy church, I had an extremely difficult time admitting that the thing that was supposed to satisfy my soul, the thing that everyone around me said had satisfied their souls, wasn't really cutting it. Most of the time, I viewed that unfulfilled place in my heart as a result of my failures: I didn't seek God in prayer, Bible reading and fasting enough; I didn't want to lay my all on the altar and be completely sold out; I wanted a husband to share my life and wasn't fulfilled in Christ alone (You wouldn't believe how many times I was made to feel guilty for my desire to be married. It was as though I was saying God wasn't enough. Hello, Fundies, there are some needs that God satisfies through others, or did you forget that Adam, while living in perfect relationship with the physically manifested presence of God, still found that he needed a wife?); I just wasn't hungry enough for God to convince Him to fill my life with His presence; I wasn't willing to pay the price; I was too sinful and unholy...
Were all these "I wasn't enough" convictions of mine true? I'm beginning to think they weren't. Fundies are notorious for turning spirituality and the experience of God into a spiritual exercise, and an exercise that's exhausting, at that. Though most of them would never admit it and say the illustration is unfair and wrong, their mentality of having to jump through spiritual hoops to please God is nearly identical to the self-flagellating practices in other religions that include such demands as crawling from one city to another on one's knees and performing all sorts of ritual punishments to deepen one's divorce from the physical world. Most Christians do the same kind of crap, but it takes a different form. (I'll explore these concepts more some other time.)
I was convinced that if I just sought God hard enough and lived holy enough and longed for Him and nothing else, He would fill my life and satisfy the deepest longings of my soul. So I tried and tried and tried for nearly fifteen years. I prayed and prayed and prayed. I devoted myself and fasted and went to church three times a week. I served in church ministries that made me miserable and cut myself off the from the corruption of the "real world" I now live in. And despite all my sincere efforts to be a woman who pleased God and knew Him and was loved and satisfied in Him, I was full of just as much longing as before. Really good person, really empty heart. That's not to say I didn't have my moments. I did. I can remember a number of instances where God really reached out to me and touched me in a profound way, and it's those encounters, in part, that convince me that being a Christ follower is really that path to find truth.
It was about two years ago that I began to admit to myself, every now and then, the realization that Jesus wasn't really doing for me what He'd said He would. I didn't blame Him for this. I still don't. I see it as my inability to receive Him because of my own warped thinking. I began to realize that He had said that those who drank of Him would never thirst again. Didn't work for me. He said that He was the bread of life and that in taking Him in I would never hunger again. Not my reality. I was hungry all the time. My worship of Him and relationship with Him were based almost entirely on longing, not the thanksgiving and joy that come from being fulfilled. It wasn't His promises that weren't true; it was my thinking that kept me from experiencing them the way I was meant to.
So now we're back to the whole "why would you run away" question. The truth is I'm not running away from the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm running away from the Fundy thinking that clouded my perception and hindered my ability to experience God. I'm running away from an extremist lifestyle that cuts me off from real people with real wounds who really need to experience a legitimate Savior and not another religious exercise. Unfortunately, Jesus got all entangled in that, so sometimes, in my effort to cut away the mess, I cut away a little too much truth. Sometimes in my efforts to be real, I cross the line and do things I don't think Jesus would approve of. I've said more than once that in order to fix this mess I'm throwing the baby away with the bathwater, but before it's all said and done I'm going to go out and get that baby. I know that I'm swinging from one extreme toward another at times, and this frightens me a lot. I intend and hope to swing back toward the center to a place of wholeness and balance, but sometimes I'm afraid that if I run away too far and too hard and He doesn't come after me, I won't ever find my way back.
I have a lot of issues with the truth. (I can just hear my old Fundy friends crying "Amen.") There are some things the Bible says that, at this point in my life, I don't like or agree with. I'm not saying they aren't truth; I'm saying I don't like them and therefore have a hard time accepting or swallowing them. I know that at times I'm holding Jesus at arm's length because there are some really tender places in me and I'm not ready to come face to face with truth just yet. All those "religious hoops" have left their mark, and I'm trying to sort the good from the bad, untangle the worthwhile from the worthless.
So I hope that helps to make a bit more sense out of all this. And, Dan, please feel free to ask away. Your questions are great, and they give me food for thought and material to explore. I appreciate them.
I guess I should start by saying that, for me, running away isn't about leaving forever. It's about trying to find home. It's about recognizing that this is supposed to be the best thing that's ever happened to me, but the reality has fallen far short. In one sense, Hosea (Jesus) is the best thing that's ever happened to me. The problem is that Jesus (and my relationship with Him) has become so deeply entangled with my Fundy background that I can't entirely separate Him from it to experience Him in a purely undiluted way. So much of my experience of Him and perception of Him is skewed by the areas of Fundy thinking that are funky that I have a really hard time reaching out and connecting with Him without bringing all that other crap with me. It's like someone has embedded a lens on my eyes that has twisted the truthful images I see until they are so distorted I can't see them truthfully. I'm trying to dig out that lens, because until I do I'm never going to be able to see clearly and experience truthfully. Let me try to give you a concrete example.
During most of my last ten or so years in the Fundy church, I had an extremely difficult time admitting that the thing that was supposed to satisfy my soul, the thing that everyone around me said had satisfied their souls, wasn't really cutting it. Most of the time, I viewed that unfulfilled place in my heart as a result of my failures: I didn't seek God in prayer, Bible reading and fasting enough; I didn't want to lay my all on the altar and be completely sold out; I wanted a husband to share my life and wasn't fulfilled in Christ alone (You wouldn't believe how many times I was made to feel guilty for my desire to be married. It was as though I was saying God wasn't enough. Hello, Fundies, there are some needs that God satisfies through others, or did you forget that Adam, while living in perfect relationship with the physically manifested presence of God, still found that he needed a wife?); I just wasn't hungry enough for God to convince Him to fill my life with His presence; I wasn't willing to pay the price; I was too sinful and unholy...
Were all these "I wasn't enough" convictions of mine true? I'm beginning to think they weren't. Fundies are notorious for turning spirituality and the experience of God into a spiritual exercise, and an exercise that's exhausting, at that. Though most of them would never admit it and say the illustration is unfair and wrong, their mentality of having to jump through spiritual hoops to please God is nearly identical to the self-flagellating practices in other religions that include such demands as crawling from one city to another on one's knees and performing all sorts of ritual punishments to deepen one's divorce from the physical world. Most Christians do the same kind of crap, but it takes a different form. (I'll explore these concepts more some other time.)
I was convinced that if I just sought God hard enough and lived holy enough and longed for Him and nothing else, He would fill my life and satisfy the deepest longings of my soul. So I tried and tried and tried for nearly fifteen years. I prayed and prayed and prayed. I devoted myself and fasted and went to church three times a week. I served in church ministries that made me miserable and cut myself off the from the corruption of the "real world" I now live in. And despite all my sincere efforts to be a woman who pleased God and knew Him and was loved and satisfied in Him, I was full of just as much longing as before. Really good person, really empty heart. That's not to say I didn't have my moments. I did. I can remember a number of instances where God really reached out to me and touched me in a profound way, and it's those encounters, in part, that convince me that being a Christ follower is really that path to find truth.
It was about two years ago that I began to admit to myself, every now and then, the realization that Jesus wasn't really doing for me what He'd said He would. I didn't blame Him for this. I still don't. I see it as my inability to receive Him because of my own warped thinking. I began to realize that He had said that those who drank of Him would never thirst again. Didn't work for me. He said that He was the bread of life and that in taking Him in I would never hunger again. Not my reality. I was hungry all the time. My worship of Him and relationship with Him were based almost entirely on longing, not the thanksgiving and joy that come from being fulfilled. It wasn't His promises that weren't true; it was my thinking that kept me from experiencing them the way I was meant to.
So now we're back to the whole "why would you run away" question. The truth is I'm not running away from the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm running away from the Fundy thinking that clouded my perception and hindered my ability to experience God. I'm running away from an extremist lifestyle that cuts me off from real people with real wounds who really need to experience a legitimate Savior and not another religious exercise. Unfortunately, Jesus got all entangled in that, so sometimes, in my effort to cut away the mess, I cut away a little too much truth. Sometimes in my efforts to be real, I cross the line and do things I don't think Jesus would approve of. I've said more than once that in order to fix this mess I'm throwing the baby away with the bathwater, but before it's all said and done I'm going to go out and get that baby. I know that I'm swinging from one extreme toward another at times, and this frightens me a lot. I intend and hope to swing back toward the center to a place of wholeness and balance, but sometimes I'm afraid that if I run away too far and too hard and He doesn't come after me, I won't ever find my way back.
I have a lot of issues with the truth. (I can just hear my old Fundy friends crying "Amen.") There are some things the Bible says that, at this point in my life, I don't like or agree with. I'm not saying they aren't truth; I'm saying I don't like them and therefore have a hard time accepting or swallowing them. I know that at times I'm holding Jesus at arm's length because there are some really tender places in me and I'm not ready to come face to face with truth just yet. All those "religious hoops" have left their mark, and I'm trying to sort the good from the bad, untangle the worthwhile from the worthless.
So I hope that helps to make a bit more sense out of all this. And, Dan, please feel free to ask away. Your questions are great, and they give me food for thought and material to explore. I appreciate them.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Who Is This Gomer Chick?
My friend Dan thought it would be helpful if I put an explanation out there to explain who this Gomer chick is that I keep talking about, and I think it's a very good idea. So much of what I'm saying comes back to her, so you need to know her story if you're going to understand mine.
Gomer plays a significant role in the small Biblical book of Hosea. In a nutshell, Hosea is a prophet. He's pure and holy and one of those guys who apparently did a really good job of keeping all the rules. Gomer is the opposite. She's a prostitute.
As the story goes, God tells Hosea to marry Gomer. And don't get all "Pretty Woman" doe-eyed and think about how romantic that is. In those days, Gomer was a prime candidate for stoning. She was a disgrace in the community. Someone like Hosea would have kept as far away from her as possible to avoid being "defiled" by her mere presence. So the command in itself was shocking. However, being a good prophet, Hosea does what God tells him to and marries her. They end up having three children, though there's some speculation among theologians that those children might not all have been Hosea's, if you know what I mean. At any rate, after all that Hosea does for her by giving her a nice home, pretty clothes, good food, and the whole nine yards, Gomer decides to leave him and sell herself back into prostitution. God tells Hosea to go buy her back and take her home again, so Hosea does it. And then God tells Hosea that this is exactly what is going between Himself and His people. God has done everything for them, but for some inexplicable reason, they go back to a life of disgrace, need and shame. In spite of this, God doesn't divorce them or destroy them. He goes after them and does all that He can to win their hearts back.
It's an amazing story, really, and I can't tell you how much I relate to this crazy chick who runs away from the best thing that ever happened to her. I'm living it.
Gomer plays a significant role in the small Biblical book of Hosea. In a nutshell, Hosea is a prophet. He's pure and holy and one of those guys who apparently did a really good job of keeping all the rules. Gomer is the opposite. She's a prostitute.
As the story goes, God tells Hosea to marry Gomer. And don't get all "Pretty Woman" doe-eyed and think about how romantic that is. In those days, Gomer was a prime candidate for stoning. She was a disgrace in the community. Someone like Hosea would have kept as far away from her as possible to avoid being "defiled" by her mere presence. So the command in itself was shocking. However, being a good prophet, Hosea does what God tells him to and marries her. They end up having three children, though there's some speculation among theologians that those children might not all have been Hosea's, if you know what I mean. At any rate, after all that Hosea does for her by giving her a nice home, pretty clothes, good food, and the whole nine yards, Gomer decides to leave him and sell herself back into prostitution. God tells Hosea to go buy her back and take her home again, so Hosea does it. And then God tells Hosea that this is exactly what is going between Himself and His people. God has done everything for them, but for some inexplicable reason, they go back to a life of disgrace, need and shame. In spite of this, God doesn't divorce them or destroy them. He goes after them and does all that He can to win their hearts back.
It's an amazing story, really, and I can't tell you how much I relate to this crazy chick who runs away from the best thing that ever happened to her. I'm living it.
Technically True?
I'm going to do a lot of exploring of thoughts and ideas here, if for no other reason because I need a place to sort through all the thoughts and ideas that crowd my head. And I'm going to challenge a lot of the Fundy foundation I was given practically from infancy. That doesn't mean I don't like the Fundies. Taken on an individual basis, most of them are wonderful, caring, well-meaning people. I know this because I was the poster girl for Fundamentalism. The crazy thing about it is you can't really see it honestly from the inside. You have to step outside it to see it for what it really is, and when you do, the truth of it makes you cringe and wish you could forever cut yourself off from even the slightest association with anything that smacks remotely of "Fundy." (If you ever see the movie "Saved" you'll understand why I cringe to be identified with them. Well meaning people, but OY! I literally had to almost turn the movie off because it was so hard to watch Fundamentalism in action from the outside and see it for what it is.)
In a way, I think that's a tragedy because in a technical sense, the Fundies have a lot of things right. They just don't have it right. Sounds like I'm contradicting myself, but I'm really not. It's like putting a painting in front of a bunch of people and asking them to describe it. If these people are Fundies, they'll tell you which colors were used - Ochre #3, Salmon #13, Magenta #7. They'll tell you about techniques and brush strokes, making sure to add the dimensions and perhaps even a list of the elements that can be viewed in the piece. Technically they're right, but from the perspective of the soul, they've missed the point entirely. They don't really see the painting at all; they haven't perceived the beauty or the art, just the technical details. Translate that to religion and you get people who have very good theology. They'll look at the concept of God and the truths contained in religion and give you a catechism that's flawless, but they're missing the point. Take that to a real world realm where people struggle with deep issues and temptations they can't overcome, and a Fundy will give that person a technically correct response with an appropriate accompanying action (some kind of self-discipline) and expect the problem to be solved like magic. They'll quote you all the (very true) scripture verses related to that sin in particular, as well as sin in general, and warn you to deal with this seriously because God doesn't allow people who indulge the flesh into heaven, but they won't really let you talk and share and explore and take your journey. They want to help you be holy instead of letting God do what He does best in the time and way He sees as appropriate. And most of them will read this description of Fundy-ism and say, "Boy, is that ever true. I know so many churches like that. Thank God I've been delivered to see the truth." And the ones most certain of their ability to see are generally the people most blind to their own inability to see the art because they get lost in the technical details - all true, but all far short of the painting.
Of course, not all Fundies are like this. Saying that would be like saying that all poor people steal or all men are pigs or all women are shallow. You can't make a blanket statement and expect it to be true. What is true, however, is that Fundamentalism, as a movement, is very much like this, and because of this failing, they do a lot of damage to a lot of people - many who are Fundies themselves. And if anyone knows this, it's me.
Now to be fair, I probably have more responsibility for the wounds in my soul than anyone, because like any good Fundy, I tore myself to pieces for every weakness in my life, whether real or imaginary. I was so busy trying to be good - and all from a genuinely good motive - that I never let myself make a mistake big enough to have a real understanding of what it means to need grace. I was so concerned about black and white that I didn't really see how much grace there is in the gray. Now, black and white are very blurred for me. In fact, I'm in a place where some things I know to be clearly stated as "black" don't seem "black" at all. They seem gray, at best. And admittedly, I'm swinging far to the other side of the pendulum in this season of my life. I was so far the other direction for so long that coming into a place of real wholeness and balance is really pushing me beyond a lot of boundaries, particularly mentally, I never thought I'd get close to. But what I'm really trying to do is see the painting. I'm not denying that the technical details are true. Can't argue with those. I'm just trying not to see them, because until I can stop detailing the technical stuff, I'll never see the painting. And the thing I most deeply want, the thing I've always wanted, is to see the glory and the beauty and the art. I want my soul to perceive these things. And in order to do that, I have to blur some of those technicalities. I have to step back from some of those black and whites and get a fresh look at this whole thing.
Part of me hopes that my old Fundy friends and "acquaintances" (sorry, personal joke!) never read this. If they do, they'll be terrified for me and probably go into all night prayer and fasting for God to rip me from the clutches of Satan and bring me safely back to the fold. But God save me, I never want to be the Fundy girl I used to be again. I hope I never go back. The truth was I got tired of living with the hope that unfulfilled longings would somehow be met. I got tired of trusting in promises that weren't becoming reality. It's not that I don't believe in those things, but I think I was trying to reach them in the wrong way. And I'm now beginning to think that I never will know them without becoming Gomer and really knowing what it means to be her.
But back to my other thought... I think my poor Fundy friends are safe from all these "heretical" and "backslider" thoughts of mine. Most of them disappeared from my life pretty damn quickly when I stopped going to their church. Of course, if I should ever darken their doors again - and I don't intend to - they'll welcome me with open arms, ask me what's going on in my life and where I'm going to church, tell me they're concerned for me. And they will sincerely mean it. But none of them will really understand what it's like to walk this road in search of God until they stop trusting in Fundy ways and start looking for Jesus outside them. And doing that, as crazy as it sounds, is actually something that can only happen if you are graced by God.
I don't know one Fundy who would say that my relationship with A and the aftermath of it were gifts of grace, but the truth is they were. I'm not saying God wanted everything to happen that happened, but I am saying that He knew I needed to become Gomer so I could, for the first time, understand in an experiential sense, not merely a technical sense, what it means to be rescued and pursued and wanted by God. I asked Him for real intimacy, authenticity, and the ability to relate to people who don't know Him. And though I'm farther from some of those things than I've ever been, I'm also closer than I've ever been because for the first time in my life I've left home instead of staying and hoping things will change. I've cast the die and placed my bet. I've taken a chance to find out if Hosea will really come through for me like He said He would. Sometimes, the quickest way home is found in running away from home.
In a way, I think that's a tragedy because in a technical sense, the Fundies have a lot of things right. They just don't have it right. Sounds like I'm contradicting myself, but I'm really not. It's like putting a painting in front of a bunch of people and asking them to describe it. If these people are Fundies, they'll tell you which colors were used - Ochre #3, Salmon #13, Magenta #7. They'll tell you about techniques and brush strokes, making sure to add the dimensions and perhaps even a list of the elements that can be viewed in the piece. Technically they're right, but from the perspective of the soul, they've missed the point entirely. They don't really see the painting at all; they haven't perceived the beauty or the art, just the technical details. Translate that to religion and you get people who have very good theology. They'll look at the concept of God and the truths contained in religion and give you a catechism that's flawless, but they're missing the point. Take that to a real world realm where people struggle with deep issues and temptations they can't overcome, and a Fundy will give that person a technically correct response with an appropriate accompanying action (some kind of self-discipline) and expect the problem to be solved like magic. They'll quote you all the (very true) scripture verses related to that sin in particular, as well as sin in general, and warn you to deal with this seriously because God doesn't allow people who indulge the flesh into heaven, but they won't really let you talk and share and explore and take your journey. They want to help you be holy instead of letting God do what He does best in the time and way He sees as appropriate. And most of them will read this description of Fundy-ism and say, "Boy, is that ever true. I know so many churches like that. Thank God I've been delivered to see the truth." And the ones most certain of their ability to see are generally the people most blind to their own inability to see the art because they get lost in the technical details - all true, but all far short of the painting.
Of course, not all Fundies are like this. Saying that would be like saying that all poor people steal or all men are pigs or all women are shallow. You can't make a blanket statement and expect it to be true. What is true, however, is that Fundamentalism, as a movement, is very much like this, and because of this failing, they do a lot of damage to a lot of people - many who are Fundies themselves. And if anyone knows this, it's me.
Now to be fair, I probably have more responsibility for the wounds in my soul than anyone, because like any good Fundy, I tore myself to pieces for every weakness in my life, whether real or imaginary. I was so busy trying to be good - and all from a genuinely good motive - that I never let myself make a mistake big enough to have a real understanding of what it means to need grace. I was so concerned about black and white that I didn't really see how much grace there is in the gray. Now, black and white are very blurred for me. In fact, I'm in a place where some things I know to be clearly stated as "black" don't seem "black" at all. They seem gray, at best. And admittedly, I'm swinging far to the other side of the pendulum in this season of my life. I was so far the other direction for so long that coming into a place of real wholeness and balance is really pushing me beyond a lot of boundaries, particularly mentally, I never thought I'd get close to. But what I'm really trying to do is see the painting. I'm not denying that the technical details are true. Can't argue with those. I'm just trying not to see them, because until I can stop detailing the technical stuff, I'll never see the painting. And the thing I most deeply want, the thing I've always wanted, is to see the glory and the beauty and the art. I want my soul to perceive these things. And in order to do that, I have to blur some of those technicalities. I have to step back from some of those black and whites and get a fresh look at this whole thing.
Part of me hopes that my old Fundy friends and "acquaintances" (sorry, personal joke!) never read this. If they do, they'll be terrified for me and probably go into all night prayer and fasting for God to rip me from the clutches of Satan and bring me safely back to the fold. But God save me, I never want to be the Fundy girl I used to be again. I hope I never go back. The truth was I got tired of living with the hope that unfulfilled longings would somehow be met. I got tired of trusting in promises that weren't becoming reality. It's not that I don't believe in those things, but I think I was trying to reach them in the wrong way. And I'm now beginning to think that I never will know them without becoming Gomer and really knowing what it means to be her.
But back to my other thought... I think my poor Fundy friends are safe from all these "heretical" and "backslider" thoughts of mine. Most of them disappeared from my life pretty damn quickly when I stopped going to their church. Of course, if I should ever darken their doors again - and I don't intend to - they'll welcome me with open arms, ask me what's going on in my life and where I'm going to church, tell me they're concerned for me. And they will sincerely mean it. But none of them will really understand what it's like to walk this road in search of God until they stop trusting in Fundy ways and start looking for Jesus outside them. And doing that, as crazy as it sounds, is actually something that can only happen if you are graced by God.
I don't know one Fundy who would say that my relationship with A and the aftermath of it were gifts of grace, but the truth is they were. I'm not saying God wanted everything to happen that happened, but I am saying that He knew I needed to become Gomer so I could, for the first time, understand in an experiential sense, not merely a technical sense, what it means to be rescued and pursued and wanted by God. I asked Him for real intimacy, authenticity, and the ability to relate to people who don't know Him. And though I'm farther from some of those things than I've ever been, I'm also closer than I've ever been because for the first time in my life I've left home instead of staying and hoping things will change. I've cast the die and placed my bet. I've taken a chance to find out if Hosea will really come through for me like He said He would. Sometimes, the quickest way home is found in running away from home.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Meaningful Moments
It's been a year ago today since I met A. At this very hour last year, we were looking over karaoke songs in a rundown bar and he was offering to buy me a drink for the second time. I let him. I was so innocent then. And looking back on the aftermath of that night makes me think of the closing lines from a movie I haven't watched in a long time.
"It is always surprising how small a part of life is taken up by meaningful moments. Most often, they're over before they start, even though they cast a light on the future and make the person who originated them unforgettable."
I didn't know the night that I met A he would have such a profound impact on my life. I didn't know I'd be sitting here a year later fighting back tears for longing over a man from whom I haven't been able to move on. I thought he was just a guy in a bar, a summer fling that would end with no one hurt or sad. I was wrong. He was so much more. Meeting him was a meaningful moment. It changed my life. It made me Gomer. You can't get much more meaningful than that.
That night wasn't the start of my journey toward becoming Gomer, but it certainly drove me there more quickly than I had ever imagined and opened a door for me to become Gomer in ways I never could have without it. I don't know if I would change that or not. I think not. It's been painful, and though I mention the relationship that was born that night, that relationship isn't the focus of this blog. In truth, the fact that I became Gomer is. The relationship with A was profoundly instrumental in that. But even without A, I'm still becoming Gomer. And though my old Fundamentalist Christian friends (we'll affectionately call them Fundies, courtesy of my far-Left atheist carpool buddy) would vehemently disagree, I think becoming Gomer was exactly what I needed. It sucks right now because my story isn't to the good part yet. It's still in the part where I wonder if my Hosea (God) will come after me and bring me back to be His beloved in a way I couldn't have been before. I'm still running away and wondering if He cares enough to fight for me. I'm still trying to hope that what I hope for - a God who really loves me when all of my ugly secrets and desires are out in the open and no longer hidden away, when I'm no longer trying desperately to be perfect, when I've stopped fighting to be good - will be real.
I've come to the conclusion that the real reason any of us become Gomer - and maybe the reason Gomer became so notorious a woman in the Biblical narrative - is because we need to know that Hosea loves us enough to bring us home again, buy us back again, fight for us. Because if He doesn't He isn't what we really need. And we need to know this in a real and personal way, not because it says so in the Bible and not because some preacher says so from a pulpit. We need to know it because we've experienced it and it's real in our lives.
I used to be one of the those really, really good Fundy girls. In fact, just one year ago I still fit that mold. I no longer identify myself as a Fundy. I just don't buy the sales pitch anymore. In fact, I'm not sure I like the label Christian either, just because it too puts me in the Fundy group. I like the idea of being a Christ follower, which is what my pastor calls us. Though to be honest, I don't feel like much of a Christ follower these days. I feel more like the girl who used to hang around camp all the time hoping He'd notice her in the background. But there were always better followers and I just couldn't keep up. So now I'm the girl who's hoping that He'll notice I haven't been around camp in a long while and might come looking for me. And not in that "Jesus-came-to-preach-in-my-hometown-and-saw-me-and-told-me-He'd-been-wondering-where-I-disappeared-to" kind of way. I don't want to be a stop on His route, so to speak - "was in the neighborhood and thought I'd check in." I'm tired of being that. I feel like I've been that all my life. I guess I'm back to that whole "needing Hosea to come get me" kind of place. I'm hoping I won't be an afterthought. I'm hoping I'll be important enough for Him to drop everything and come find me. Leave the camp and the preaching circuit to come to my out-of-the-way village just to find me. Not because there are a few hundred here He can preach to. Just for me.
"It is always surprising how small a part of life is taken up by meaningful moments. Most often, they're over before they start, even though they cast a light on the future and make the person who originated them unforgettable."
I didn't know the night that I met A he would have such a profound impact on my life. I didn't know I'd be sitting here a year later fighting back tears for longing over a man from whom I haven't been able to move on. I thought he was just a guy in a bar, a summer fling that would end with no one hurt or sad. I was wrong. He was so much more. Meeting him was a meaningful moment. It changed my life. It made me Gomer. You can't get much more meaningful than that.
That night wasn't the start of my journey toward becoming Gomer, but it certainly drove me there more quickly than I had ever imagined and opened a door for me to become Gomer in ways I never could have without it. I don't know if I would change that or not. I think not. It's been painful, and though I mention the relationship that was born that night, that relationship isn't the focus of this blog. In truth, the fact that I became Gomer is. The relationship with A was profoundly instrumental in that. But even without A, I'm still becoming Gomer. And though my old Fundamentalist Christian friends (we'll affectionately call them Fundies, courtesy of my far-Left atheist carpool buddy) would vehemently disagree, I think becoming Gomer was exactly what I needed. It sucks right now because my story isn't to the good part yet. It's still in the part where I wonder if my Hosea (God) will come after me and bring me back to be His beloved in a way I couldn't have been before. I'm still running away and wondering if He cares enough to fight for me. I'm still trying to hope that what I hope for - a God who really loves me when all of my ugly secrets and desires are out in the open and no longer hidden away, when I'm no longer trying desperately to be perfect, when I've stopped fighting to be good - will be real.
I've come to the conclusion that the real reason any of us become Gomer - and maybe the reason Gomer became so notorious a woman in the Biblical narrative - is because we need to know that Hosea loves us enough to bring us home again, buy us back again, fight for us. Because if He doesn't He isn't what we really need. And we need to know this in a real and personal way, not because it says so in the Bible and not because some preacher says so from a pulpit. We need to know it because we've experienced it and it's real in our lives.
I used to be one of the those really, really good Fundy girls. In fact, just one year ago I still fit that mold. I no longer identify myself as a Fundy. I just don't buy the sales pitch anymore. In fact, I'm not sure I like the label Christian either, just because it too puts me in the Fundy group. I like the idea of being a Christ follower, which is what my pastor calls us. Though to be honest, I don't feel like much of a Christ follower these days. I feel more like the girl who used to hang around camp all the time hoping He'd notice her in the background. But there were always better followers and I just couldn't keep up. So now I'm the girl who's hoping that He'll notice I haven't been around camp in a long while and might come looking for me. And not in that "Jesus-came-to-preach-in-my-hometown-and-saw-me-and-told-me-He'd-been-wondering-where-I-disappeared-to" kind of way. I don't want to be a stop on His route, so to speak - "was in the neighborhood and thought I'd check in." I'm tired of being that. I feel like I've been that all my life. I guess I'm back to that whole "needing Hosea to come get me" kind of place. I'm hoping I won't be an afterthought. I'm hoping I'll be important enough for Him to drop everything and come find me. Leave the camp and the preaching circuit to come to my out-of-the-way village just to find me. Not because there are a few hundred here He can preach to. Just for me.
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