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.