There's a song called "Closing Time" that they played at the end of almost all my high school dances. I can't recall the name of the band who sang it, but one line has always stuck with me:
"Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings' end."
It doesn't seem like all that long ago that I was a freshly minted college graduate who thought a little too highly of my own intelligence, entering seminary, trying (and failing miserably) to impress the cute girl that I met the first night of orientation, and beginning a job at Crievewood UMC in Nashville.
Today I'm a freshly minted seminary graduate who learned just how little I really know while in seminary (a lesson I'm sure to learn over and over throughout my life), married to that cute girl from orientation, and about to preach my first service as a Senior Pastor at Bethlehem UMC.
I look back on the past four years with tremendous appreciation for all I've experienced, all I've learned in classes, and from my successes and many, many mistakes in ministry. While I am very sad to leave Vanderbilt and Crievewood behind, it's the right time to do so and take up the new challenge of being the solo pastor of a church.
I got to know some of the folks at Bethlehem this week at VBS, and I'm very excited and nervous to worship with them for the first time. Wait, let me clarify. VBS is definately worship. Tomorrow will just be the first time where we worship together while I'm wearing a robe.
So here we are at this new beginning that comes from four years ago's beginning's end. What will this new beginning bring? Stay tuned...
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Ruth Bell Graham
Billy Graham's wife, Ruth, died today after a long illness. From what I've read about her, it seems that she was one of the biggest reasons that Billy was able to rise above the temptations that so many other famous religious figures fall into: adultery, substance abuse, embezzelment, and becoming a partisan political whore, just to name a few.
Perhaps the reason that she was able to be a more effective supporter for him than many other spouses of religous celebrities is that she broke a cardinal rule of evangelicalism: she refused to play the role of the submissive wife.
She once told her children that "there comes a time to stop submitting and start outwitting". When she disagreed with Billy on an issue or thought his head was getting too big (a frequent occurrance for preachers, I assure you) she wasn't afraid to say so. It seems that Ruth cared a whole lot more about the integrity of Billy's ministry and spreading the gospel than about keeping up some image that others thought she should portray.
There's a saying that well behaved women rarely make history. Ruth Bell Graham was probably not well behaved by many of her peers' standards, and thus she and her husband made history. Let us pray that there will be more badly behaved women like her.
(P.S.- Let's give credit where credit is due- Billy Graham was smart enough to listen to a strong willed woman that was often smarter than he was.)
Perhaps the reason that she was able to be a more effective supporter for him than many other spouses of religous celebrities is that she broke a cardinal rule of evangelicalism: she refused to play the role of the submissive wife.
She once told her children that "there comes a time to stop submitting and start outwitting". When she disagreed with Billy on an issue or thought his head was getting too big (a frequent occurrance for preachers, I assure you) she wasn't afraid to say so. It seems that Ruth cared a whole lot more about the integrity of Billy's ministry and spreading the gospel than about keeping up some image that others thought she should portray.
There's a saying that well behaved women rarely make history. Ruth Bell Graham was probably not well behaved by many of her peers' standards, and thus she and her husband made history. Let us pray that there will be more badly behaved women like her.
(P.S.- Let's give credit where credit is due- Billy Graham was smart enough to listen to a strong willed woman that was often smarter than he was.)
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Faith and Politics Forum
If you didn't get the chance to see the Faith and Politics Forum on CNN last night, let me suggest you watch the highlights on Sojourners' website. It was fascinating to see the top Democratic candidates (the Republicans will have a similar forum in a few weeks) talk specifically about their faith and how it informs their political actions. I do wish each candidate had received more than fifteen minutes for questions and dialogue, but this was a good start.
I'm listing my own personal highlights from the forum, broken down by candidate. These are nothing more and nothing less than my own personal opinions based on issues that I care about. I have arrived at my views as a result of my Christian faith, but I respect and celebrate that others have arrived at their views for the exact same reasons. I hope that if your take on this forum is different than my own that we can start a respectful dialogue about these issues.
John Edwards
Edwards has long been a favorite of mine because he talks about poverty as a moral issue more than almost any other politician out there. I think he spent a little too much time in this forum touting his record on poverty issues, but I understand that he's trying to make gains in the polls.
I liked how, when asked a question about his prayer life, he said that he asked God to show him the difference between his will and God's will. I also appreciated that when he was asked what the biggest sin he ever committed was (a question that still haunts Jimmy Carter 30 years later), he artfully dodged it, admitting that he sins every day and that all sins are bad.
Barak Obama
Obama spent quite a bit of time quoting both Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King, Jr.- two good people to listen to. The cynical side of me wonders if he quotes them because it earns political points, but I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and hope that he truly takes them to heart.
Obama made a number of nuanced points that I appreciated very much because he did his best to rise above the strategery (spelling intentional) of merely giving cute soundbites. When faced with a question about God's opinion of war, Obama said that he believed that evil exists and there are times when standing against evil requires taking up arms, but that just because a cause is just does not mean a nation always acts in a just manner, citing the extreme moral and ethical failures of Abu Gharib and Guantanamo Bay.
Obama also made the nuanced point that personal responsibility (a favorite theme of conservatives) and communal responsibility (a favorite theme of liberals) are not mutually exclusive and that justice is only done when understandings of both spheres of responsibility work together. "I have a stake in others", he said, emphasizing that any individual who does not have opportunities to succeed is done a disservice by the whole society.
Hillary Clinton
Clinton had a very personal moment when asked how she dealt with the infidelity in her marriage, saying that she would not have made it through without her faith and people praying for her and her husband. Hillary doesn't talk much about her faith, and she explained it by saying, "I come from a tradition that is perhaps a little too suspicious of people that wear their faith on their sleeves”. I respect that, given the extreme hypocrisy shown by those who view evangelical Christians as a voting block to be courted rather than a group whose opinions should be honored. Perhaps Clinton's reluctance to use whatever faith life she has to score political points is evidence of a profound respect for that faith and a desire not to make it something it is not.
Final Thoughts
Given that we are nearly eighteen months from the next presidential election, I have not decided on a candidate, or a party for that matter, for whom I will vote. Whenever I do come to such a decision I will not make a public endorsement of that candidate, because I believe such an endorsement would be a gross misuse of my position as a pastor. Y'all probably will be able to figure out who I'm voting for at some point, but I'm not arrogant enough to think that my vote is the vote for everyone who calls themselves a Christian.
I believe that our relationship with God is personal, but not private, and that God's opinions on political issues have a lot more to do with making sure that each of God's image bearers and all of God's creation is treated justly, rather than God taking sides with one candidate over another.
I'm listing my own personal highlights from the forum, broken down by candidate. These are nothing more and nothing less than my own personal opinions based on issues that I care about. I have arrived at my views as a result of my Christian faith, but I respect and celebrate that others have arrived at their views for the exact same reasons. I hope that if your take on this forum is different than my own that we can start a respectful dialogue about these issues.
John Edwards
Edwards has long been a favorite of mine because he talks about poverty as a moral issue more than almost any other politician out there. I think he spent a little too much time in this forum touting his record on poverty issues, but I understand that he's trying to make gains in the polls.
I liked how, when asked a question about his prayer life, he said that he asked God to show him the difference between his will and God's will. I also appreciated that when he was asked what the biggest sin he ever committed was (a question that still haunts Jimmy Carter 30 years later), he artfully dodged it, admitting that he sins every day and that all sins are bad.
Barak Obama
Obama spent quite a bit of time quoting both Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King, Jr.- two good people to listen to. The cynical side of me wonders if he quotes them because it earns political points, but I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and hope that he truly takes them to heart.
Obama made a number of nuanced points that I appreciated very much because he did his best to rise above the strategery (spelling intentional) of merely giving cute soundbites. When faced with a question about God's opinion of war, Obama said that he believed that evil exists and there are times when standing against evil requires taking up arms, but that just because a cause is just does not mean a nation always acts in a just manner, citing the extreme moral and ethical failures of Abu Gharib and Guantanamo Bay.
Obama also made the nuanced point that personal responsibility (a favorite theme of conservatives) and communal responsibility (a favorite theme of liberals) are not mutually exclusive and that justice is only done when understandings of both spheres of responsibility work together. "I have a stake in others", he said, emphasizing that any individual who does not have opportunities to succeed is done a disservice by the whole society.
Hillary Clinton
Clinton had a very personal moment when asked how she dealt with the infidelity in her marriage, saying that she would not have made it through without her faith and people praying for her and her husband. Hillary doesn't talk much about her faith, and she explained it by saying, "I come from a tradition that is perhaps a little too suspicious of people that wear their faith on their sleeves”. I respect that, given the extreme hypocrisy shown by those who view evangelical Christians as a voting block to be courted rather than a group whose opinions should be honored. Perhaps Clinton's reluctance to use whatever faith life she has to score political points is evidence of a profound respect for that faith and a desire not to make it something it is not.
Final Thoughts
Given that we are nearly eighteen months from the next presidential election, I have not decided on a candidate, or a party for that matter, for whom I will vote. Whenever I do come to such a decision I will not make a public endorsement of that candidate, because I believe such an endorsement would be a gross misuse of my position as a pastor. Y'all probably will be able to figure out who I'm voting for at some point, but I'm not arrogant enough to think that my vote is the vote for everyone who calls themselves a Christian.
I believe that our relationship with God is personal, but not private, and that God's opinions on political issues have a lot more to do with making sure that each of God's image bearers and all of God's creation is treated justly, rather than God taking sides with one candidate over another.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Forum Tonight
Tonight, Sojourners (Jim Wallis' organization) is hosting a forum on faith and politics with the three leading Democratic Presidential Candidates: Hillary Clinton, John Edwards, and Barak Obama. I'll be posting my thoughts after the forum is over.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Grace and Judgment
When I was at BOMEC (the Board of Ordained Ministry Evaluating Conference) a few months back, a certain individual gave an evening devotional that I haven't been able to get out of my mind so I have to comment on it.
Before I go any further, a bit of disclosure is in order. I was rejected by the BOM and was not allowed to take the next step towards ordination. I would be lying if I said my commentary was not affected at all by the results of BOMEC. That being said, the meat of these thoughts occurred before I found out I was rejected, so my thoughts are not at the core the result of said rejection. Take them with the grains of salt they require.
In this devotional the person started off reading from Galatians 3, which begins, "You foolish Galatians!", and proceeded to explain how this particular passage was about the tension of grace and law (New Testament scholars could and probably should take this person to task on this claim, but nevertheless, it was the subject of the devotional). The essential thesis was of the tension of grace and judgment. The BOM is given the task of making a judgment about those who come before them to seek commissioning and ordination, but since this judgment occurs in the context of the church of Jesus Christ, it requires the presence of grace. Hence the tension of grace and judgment.
This, of course, relies upon the assumption that grace and judgment are either polar opposites or things so different that they are not compatible, hence the necessity of holding them in tension. But is that really true? Are grace and judgment two entirely different things?
What is the purpose of making a judgment? Is it purely punitive? Do judgments only exist to meet out punishment for things done wrong? Or could a judgment be something more? Could particular individual actions be judged so that a person could learn from their mistakes and do better in the future? If a judgment is meant to be redemptive rather than punitive, could it not actually be gracious?
If a judgment can be gracious then the two things need not be in tension. They are only in tension with one another if we adhere to the world's fatalistic meta-narrative that people are who they are and can not change. If, on the other hand, we believe that God's grace can transform even the most unlikely person, nay, especially the most unlikely person, then a judgment is exactly the wake up call this most unlikely of people needs to realize that grace is leading them in a different direction. A judgment can be gracious because it points beyond itself to a future that is more in line with God's will. Is that not what grace is all about?
As of yet I have not seen that the judgment of the BOM has been gracious at all. The jury is still out, however. I remain hopeful that their judgment was made with the ultimate goal of helping me become a better person and a stronger pastor. But the evidence that this is the case is quite long in coming, so holding on to this hope is becoming harder and harder. As a Christian I believe in looking for the best in others, even to a fault, so I will continue to cling to the hope that their judgment will turn out to be gracious. But I'm only human, so I need a little help in holding on to that hope.
Before I go any further, a bit of disclosure is in order. I was rejected by the BOM and was not allowed to take the next step towards ordination. I would be lying if I said my commentary was not affected at all by the results of BOMEC. That being said, the meat of these thoughts occurred before I found out I was rejected, so my thoughts are not at the core the result of said rejection. Take them with the grains of salt they require.
In this devotional the person started off reading from Galatians 3, which begins, "You foolish Galatians!", and proceeded to explain how this particular passage was about the tension of grace and law (New Testament scholars could and probably should take this person to task on this claim, but nevertheless, it was the subject of the devotional). The essential thesis was of the tension of grace and judgment. The BOM is given the task of making a judgment about those who come before them to seek commissioning and ordination, but since this judgment occurs in the context of the church of Jesus Christ, it requires the presence of grace. Hence the tension of grace and judgment.
This, of course, relies upon the assumption that grace and judgment are either polar opposites or things so different that they are not compatible, hence the necessity of holding them in tension. But is that really true? Are grace and judgment two entirely different things?
What is the purpose of making a judgment? Is it purely punitive? Do judgments only exist to meet out punishment for things done wrong? Or could a judgment be something more? Could particular individual actions be judged so that a person could learn from their mistakes and do better in the future? If a judgment is meant to be redemptive rather than punitive, could it not actually be gracious?
If a judgment can be gracious then the two things need not be in tension. They are only in tension with one another if we adhere to the world's fatalistic meta-narrative that people are who they are and can not change. If, on the other hand, we believe that God's grace can transform even the most unlikely person, nay, especially the most unlikely person, then a judgment is exactly the wake up call this most unlikely of people needs to realize that grace is leading them in a different direction. A judgment can be gracious because it points beyond itself to a future that is more in line with God's will. Is that not what grace is all about?
As of yet I have not seen that the judgment of the BOM has been gracious at all. The jury is still out, however. I remain hopeful that their judgment was made with the ultimate goal of helping me become a better person and a stronger pastor. But the evidence that this is the case is quite long in coming, so holding on to this hope is becoming harder and harder. As a Christian I believe in looking for the best in others, even to a fault, so I will continue to cling to the hope that their judgment will turn out to be gracious. But I'm only human, so I need a little help in holding on to that hope.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Long time gone
I haven't posted in quite a while because, frankly, I haven't known what to say. I've had plenty of thoughts and feelings, as anyone who knows me and what I've been going through lately knows, but I just haven't been able to put it into a coherent format suitable for publishing on the Internet.
First thing's first: I'll be moving from Nashville to Clarksville in June to be the pastor of Bethlehem UMC:
This church has been around since 1836! I'm excited/nervous/scared/etc, as you can probably imagine. The congregation doesn't have a website as of now, but that will change soon.
Second, even though I've been given a full time appointment I won't be commissioned at the upcoming session of Annual Conference. The Board of Ordained Ministry turned me down but hasn't told me why. They've promised that an explanation will come later, but I'm sure you can understand my growing cynicism since it's been almost two months. As of now the plan is to go back and try again in a year or two, and obviously I'm sticking with pastoral ministry for the time being.
But my discernment hasn't ended on this whole thing. I'm not questioning whether I'll continue to be in ministry, it's a question of whether it will continue to be in the Tennessee Conference, the United Methodist Church, or in any ordained capacity at all. I've had doubts and reservations about these things for some time, and the rejection by the BOM has only heightened them. I'll probably write my next post about questions surrounding the whole idea of ordination.
That's all for now. I'll get back to the standard "Truth As Best I Know It" fare soon.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Corporate prayer?
As we approached the first anniversary of The Gathering we decided to ask people to fill out a survey telling us what they found meaningful and what wasn't working. The results didn't really surprise us. In most areas we were doing fairly well. People felt like they really got to participate in the worship and that they weren't just spectators of some show.
The one area where we weren't doing so well, however, was in the prayer time during the service. We had sensed this for a while, and the surveys confirmed it. A year ago it seemed like we had a good strategy. I or another leader would open the prayer time and guide us through an expanding circle prayer: first we would pray for this congregation, then others who were suffering, our local community, the world, the church universal, and in communion with all the saints. As we expanded the circle we invited others to verbally lift up prayer requests, ending with, "Lord in your mercy", and the rest of us would respond, "hear our prayer."
What we discovered over time, however, was that this method didn't really work for a group of 50 people. I've personally experienced this as being very powerful in a small group of no more than 10 or so, but in a larger group it ended up being basically the same thing as what we do in the 10:45 traditional service at Crievewood.
At the later service the pastor or another leader highlights some of the concerns on the prayer list in the bulletin, calls for a few moments of silence (at most 30 seconds), and then prays out loud on behalf of the congregation. Theoretically the congregation is all praying together, but I've started to wonder if that's really true. Just because someone is standing at the front of a room making a speech directed to God with their eyes closed, does that mean that 200 people are all really praying together?
This was the same problem with our prayer time at The Gathering. In theory we were all praying together and others were invited to lift up prayers verbally, but in reality there were only a half dozen or so who felt comfortable speaking up. So instead of one person making a speech with their eyes closed and calling it communal prayer, we had 6 or 7 people making mini-speeches with their eyes closed and calling it communal prayer.
It begs the question of how we should handle prayer in corporate worship. It is really possible to get a group of people larger than a dozen to be praying about the same thing? Does the fact that we do this corporate prayer enable people's feelings of absolution from the responsibility to have their own prayer times outside the weekly meeting? Does the fact that we have specific prayer times in worship narrow our definition of what prayer is? Conversations about meaningful issues in our lives can be prayer. Times of studying and struggling with the scriptures can be prayer. The act of taking communion together should certainly be seen as a type of prayer. All these things are acts we participate in to heighten our awareness of God's continual presence with us, so why should we not call it all prayer?
Right now in The Gathering we're trying an individual prayer time. Prayer concerns in the expanding circle are put up on the screen, and each table has a stack of post-it notes to write prayers on and stick up on our "wailing wall". We're going to give this about six weeks or so and see if it's working or not.
What do you think? Are we doing ourselves a greater disservice by trying to have corporate prayer in worship? Can the only legitimate prayer be as individuals or small groups? Discuss...
The one area where we weren't doing so well, however, was in the prayer time during the service. We had sensed this for a while, and the surveys confirmed it. A year ago it seemed like we had a good strategy. I or another leader would open the prayer time and guide us through an expanding circle prayer: first we would pray for this congregation, then others who were suffering, our local community, the world, the church universal, and in communion with all the saints. As we expanded the circle we invited others to verbally lift up prayer requests, ending with, "Lord in your mercy", and the rest of us would respond, "hear our prayer."
What we discovered over time, however, was that this method didn't really work for a group of 50 people. I've personally experienced this as being very powerful in a small group of no more than 10 or so, but in a larger group it ended up being basically the same thing as what we do in the 10:45 traditional service at Crievewood.
At the later service the pastor or another leader highlights some of the concerns on the prayer list in the bulletin, calls for a few moments of silence (at most 30 seconds), and then prays out loud on behalf of the congregation. Theoretically the congregation is all praying together, but I've started to wonder if that's really true. Just because someone is standing at the front of a room making a speech directed to God with their eyes closed, does that mean that 200 people are all really praying together?
This was the same problem with our prayer time at The Gathering. In theory we were all praying together and others were invited to lift up prayers verbally, but in reality there were only a half dozen or so who felt comfortable speaking up. So instead of one person making a speech with their eyes closed and calling it communal prayer, we had 6 or 7 people making mini-speeches with their eyes closed and calling it communal prayer.
It begs the question of how we should handle prayer in corporate worship. It is really possible to get a group of people larger than a dozen to be praying about the same thing? Does the fact that we do this corporate prayer enable people's feelings of absolution from the responsibility to have their own prayer times outside the weekly meeting? Does the fact that we have specific prayer times in worship narrow our definition of what prayer is? Conversations about meaningful issues in our lives can be prayer. Times of studying and struggling with the scriptures can be prayer. The act of taking communion together should certainly be seen as a type of prayer. All these things are acts we participate in to heighten our awareness of God's continual presence with us, so why should we not call it all prayer?
Right now in The Gathering we're trying an individual prayer time. Prayer concerns in the expanding circle are put up on the screen, and each table has a stack of post-it notes to write prayers on and stick up on our "wailing wall". We're going to give this about six weeks or so and see if it's working or not.
What do you think? Are we doing ourselves a greater disservice by trying to have corporate prayer in worship? Can the only legitimate prayer be as individuals or small groups? Discuss...
Monday, March 05, 2007
A Call for Commentary
OK, it's time to see how many readers I have out there.
I've been asked to submit an op-ed piece (like one you would see in a newspaper) to help inform the UMC's Connectional Table as the formulate their "State of the Church" report for General Conference 2008. I'm one of a few hundred who've been asked to do this. I already have a draft going, but I want to know what you think.
Post replies on this blog (or email me if you want them kept private) on what you think is the current state of the United Methodist Church. These can be good things, bad things, whatever. You don't need to be a UM clergy person or even a member. As a matter of fact, outsiders' perceptions would be greatly helpful. I'll seriously consider your comments as I put together the final version of my op-ed piece.
This is democracy in action, people. Let's put the power of the internet to work. Leave your comments and tell me what you think.
I've been asked to submit an op-ed piece (like one you would see in a newspaper) to help inform the UMC's Connectional Table as the formulate their "State of the Church" report for General Conference 2008. I'm one of a few hundred who've been asked to do this. I already have a draft going, but I want to know what you think.
Post replies on this blog (or email me if you want them kept private) on what you think is the current state of the United Methodist Church. These can be good things, bad things, whatever. You don't need to be a UM clergy person or even a member. As a matter of fact, outsiders' perceptions would be greatly helpful. I'll seriously consider your comments as I put together the final version of my op-ed piece.
This is democracy in action, people. Let's put the power of the internet to work. Leave your comments and tell me what you think.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Cameron's Cash-Grab
A storm is on the horizon. My trick knee is acting up and it’s telling me that this one is going to be ugly.
“Titanic” director James Cameron is planning to release a documentary that alleges that ossuaries (boxes in which people’s bones were placed after their bodies had decayed) that were excavated in Israel in the 1980s are those of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and the children they had together. (The idea being that if Jesus' body was discovered it would somehow "prove" that he was not crucified, resurrected, and ascended to heaven.) This film will premier just before Easter. Coincidence? I think not.
From a purely historical standpoint the fact that he’s doing this is quite silly. The inscriptions on the ossuaries were very faint and took archeologists years to decipher, and there is still no consensus on what the names really are. Even if the name “Jesus” is inscribed on the box, what does it prove? “Jesus” was a very common name at the time. Its English equivalent is “Josh”.
The real issue here is the fact that James Cameron is being highly opportunistic. He saw all the fuss over “The DaVinci Code” (which, by the way, was a work of fiction that claimed no theological or historical basis) and realized that stirring up a bit of religious controversy gets you lots of free publicity. It’s a good way to make a whole lot of money.
I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that James Cameron doesn’t care whether Jesus was resurrected or not. He’s gladly exploiting the fact that the Christian right will get up in arms and give him tons of free publicity. He knows that mega-churches will have multipart sermon series that dispute his claims and offer “proof” that the resurrection is a historical fact. He knows that televangelists will call for boycotts and a few people may even burn effigies of him. And the more they call him a heretic the more he gets paid. He’s laughing all the way to the bank, and the Christian right is playing into his hands.
“Titanic” director James Cameron is planning to release a documentary that alleges that ossuaries (boxes in which people’s bones were placed after their bodies had decayed) that were excavated in Israel in the 1980s are those of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, and the children they had together. (The idea being that if Jesus' body was discovered it would somehow "prove" that he was not crucified, resurrected, and ascended to heaven.) This film will premier just before Easter. Coincidence? I think not.
From a purely historical standpoint the fact that he’s doing this is quite silly. The inscriptions on the ossuaries were very faint and took archeologists years to decipher, and there is still no consensus on what the names really are. Even if the name “Jesus” is inscribed on the box, what does it prove? “Jesus” was a very common name at the time. Its English equivalent is “Josh”.
The real issue here is the fact that James Cameron is being highly opportunistic. He saw all the fuss over “The DaVinci Code” (which, by the way, was a work of fiction that claimed no theological or historical basis) and realized that stirring up a bit of religious controversy gets you lots of free publicity. It’s a good way to make a whole lot of money.
I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that James Cameron doesn’t care whether Jesus was resurrected or not. He’s gladly exploiting the fact that the Christian right will get up in arms and give him tons of free publicity. He knows that mega-churches will have multipart sermon series that dispute his claims and offer “proof” that the resurrection is a historical fact. He knows that televangelists will call for boycotts and a few people may even burn effigies of him. And the more they call him a heretic the more he gets paid. He’s laughing all the way to the bank, and the Christian right is playing into his hands.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Pastoral Pressure
According to one of the pastors that is part of Ted Haggard’s counseling team, the former mega-church pastor now says he is “completely heterosexual”. (That comment would seem to suggest that one could be only partially heterosexual, an idea with which I would think most evangelical Christians would disagree, but I digress.) Regardless of whether or not this is actually true, what else would Haggard say? He and all those in his social and professional circles believe that homosexuality is a horrible sin, and for him to come out and say that he is gay would mean being even more ostracized than he currently is.
Haggard’s sexuality, whatever it may be, whatever percentages he may have, is between him and his wife, and frankly is no one else’s business. But I do believe there is an element of Haggard’s tragic “fall from grace” that does concern all of us. We have to ask ourselves to what extent we are all responsible for what happened.
Let me be clear about what I’m saying. I’m not trying to absolve Haggard of responsibility for what he did. No one held a gun to his head and made him do drugs and cheat on his wife. But neither did he just wake up one day and decide to do it.
As the pastor of one of the country’s largest churches, Haggard became well known all over the country. As a pastor he felt the obligation to embody the values he preached, and as a public figure he felt the pressure to maintain a carefully crafted public persona.
The problem was that this public persona was incredibly unrealistic. He was expected not only to model basic Christian values, but also to never waver in his theological positions, never have doubts, and never experience temptations. In other words, Haggard was expected to live up to a standard of perfection that nobody can live up to. Haggard certainly participated in the cultivation of this public image and promoted these ridiculous expectations, but he was not alone. Others promoted these expectations because they, too, wanted to believe that their leaders were “perfect”.
In the eighteenth century John Wesley published a treatise called “A Plain Account of Christian Perfection”. He wanted to correct the popular misunderstandings of his theological position on perfection. What Wesley meant by “perfection” was not that one never had doubts, never made mistakes, or never experienced temptation. The kind of perfection Wesley had in mind was a perfection of intention. This perfection required intense self examination and a thorough knowledge of one’s own strengths and weaknesses. Somewhat ironically, the one who was most perfected, according to Wesley, was the one who was most aware of their need to constantly confess their sins.
Pastors are people, too. We have doubts, we have fears, we have desires and experience temptations. We get mad. We have good days and bad days. We even have days where we’re not too sure God even exists! But most of us are afraid to admit this, even to ourselves because we think people want to see us project an image of confidence, unwavering conviction, and complete sinlessness. If we admit to problems in our lives, it’s almost always in the past tense. We would never admit that we’re currently going through a rough patch.
The problem is that when we ignore these doubts, fears, and desires, they don’t simply go away. We bury them somewhere deep inside ourselves, and eventually they pile up and boil over. Sometimes people just burn out and leave the ministry. Sometimes they seek comfort through substance abuse. Others like Haggard act out sexually because they just can’t take it any more. Ted Haggard should not have done what he did, but just like all of us he played a part in setting up a system of expectations that ultimately wore him down and led him to act out in an extreme way.
When I admit to people that I struggle every day with clinical depression and anxiety I get a variety of reactions. Some people are comforted, some people are shocked, but all too often I hear surprise because people think that to be a pastor you’re supposed to have moved past struggles like that.
Let’s all collectively take a deep breath and admit that none of us are “perfect”. We all have our doubts and struggles, and we always will. The values we proclaim are ideals toward which we strive, not things we will ever fully embody. And that’s OK. Our leaders should feel safe enough to be vulnerable and admit that they don’t always know what to do. May God grant us the strength and courage to be real with one another.
Haggard’s sexuality, whatever it may be, whatever percentages he may have, is between him and his wife, and frankly is no one else’s business. But I do believe there is an element of Haggard’s tragic “fall from grace” that does concern all of us. We have to ask ourselves to what extent we are all responsible for what happened.
Let me be clear about what I’m saying. I’m not trying to absolve Haggard of responsibility for what he did. No one held a gun to his head and made him do drugs and cheat on his wife. But neither did he just wake up one day and decide to do it.
As the pastor of one of the country’s largest churches, Haggard became well known all over the country. As a pastor he felt the obligation to embody the values he preached, and as a public figure he felt the pressure to maintain a carefully crafted public persona.
The problem was that this public persona was incredibly unrealistic. He was expected not only to model basic Christian values, but also to never waver in his theological positions, never have doubts, and never experience temptations. In other words, Haggard was expected to live up to a standard of perfection that nobody can live up to. Haggard certainly participated in the cultivation of this public image and promoted these ridiculous expectations, but he was not alone. Others promoted these expectations because they, too, wanted to believe that their leaders were “perfect”.
In the eighteenth century John Wesley published a treatise called “A Plain Account of Christian Perfection”. He wanted to correct the popular misunderstandings of his theological position on perfection. What Wesley meant by “perfection” was not that one never had doubts, never made mistakes, or never experienced temptation. The kind of perfection Wesley had in mind was a perfection of intention. This perfection required intense self examination and a thorough knowledge of one’s own strengths and weaknesses. Somewhat ironically, the one who was most perfected, according to Wesley, was the one who was most aware of their need to constantly confess their sins.
Pastors are people, too. We have doubts, we have fears, we have desires and experience temptations. We get mad. We have good days and bad days. We even have days where we’re not too sure God even exists! But most of us are afraid to admit this, even to ourselves because we think people want to see us project an image of confidence, unwavering conviction, and complete sinlessness. If we admit to problems in our lives, it’s almost always in the past tense. We would never admit that we’re currently going through a rough patch.
The problem is that when we ignore these doubts, fears, and desires, they don’t simply go away. We bury them somewhere deep inside ourselves, and eventually they pile up and boil over. Sometimes people just burn out and leave the ministry. Sometimes they seek comfort through substance abuse. Others like Haggard act out sexually because they just can’t take it any more. Ted Haggard should not have done what he did, but just like all of us he played a part in setting up a system of expectations that ultimately wore him down and led him to act out in an extreme way.
When I admit to people that I struggle every day with clinical depression and anxiety I get a variety of reactions. Some people are comforted, some people are shocked, but all too often I hear surprise because people think that to be a pastor you’re supposed to have moved past struggles like that.
Let’s all collectively take a deep breath and admit that none of us are “perfect”. We all have our doubts and struggles, and we always will. The values we proclaim are ideals toward which we strive, not things we will ever fully embody. And that’s OK. Our leaders should feel safe enough to be vulnerable and admit that they don’t always know what to do. May God grant us the strength and courage to be real with one another.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
God-Men
Stop! Before you read my post check out this LA Times article about this organization called “God-Men”, and their website, if you’re so inclined.
My reactions to this were many, as you might imagine, so I’ll try to keep them brief and coherent.
First of all, this seems to be the latest and greatest (or worstest, depending on how you use the terms) example of Christian ghetto-ism: where evangelical Christians will take something from the “secular” (I don’t like that word, but that’s the subject of another post) culture and make a supposedly Christianized version of it. Left Behind is the Christian Steven King. Bible Man is the Christian Power Rangers. I even heard a band recently that sounded like they wanted to be the Christian U2, as if Bono and company weren’t already model Christians. So here we have God-Men: the Christian Man Show.
Interestingly enough, the guy who is the face of God-Men is a comedian named Brad Stein, who apparently wants to be the Christian Dennis Leary. (Interesting aside- he’s featured in Alexandra Pelosi’s documentary, “Friends of God”- I highly recommend checking it out, and I’ll probably review it sometime soon) He’s aggressive in his style, he’s not afraid to curse (for which I whole-heartedly applaud him), and he’s not afraid to express opinions that not everyone will agree with. That’s fine. I don’t take issue with him personally or his style as an entertainer. Nor do I take issue with the fact that evangelical Christians are saying it’s OK to embody stereotypical manliness. My wife will tell you that I like fart jokes, football, and beer as much as the next guy. What I do take issue with is the extent to which the God-Men take this particular type of “manliness” and claim that it has it’s own ontology that is written into the DNA of every male.
Case in point is the example of the 26 year old construction worker who takes off to go camping with his friends and leaves his wife at home with their infant, despite her protests that she needs his help around the house. His justification: "I am supposed to be the leader of the family." Yes, you are supposed to be the leader of the family. You know what leaders do? They put the needs of those they lead over their own personal desires. You kicking off to go camping when your wife needs your help is not you being a man or a leader. It’s you being a spoiled little kid who does what he wants, gets bored, and expects mommy to clean up the mess. The only way you’re being a leader in this situation is if you say, “I need a weekend away, and I know you do, too. So I’ve booked you a few days at the spa next weekend and I’ll stay home with the baby then. That way we can both recharge.” Something tells me he this was not his course of action.
While God-Men may serve a good purpose and may very well be helpful to a lot of people, it seems that the extremes to which they go in promoting immature manliness will have as much, if not more destructive effect than any positives they may achieve. If I may lay my liberal cards on the table (if you haven’t already guessed this then you haven’t been reading me very closely), what God-Men really represents is the ideological extreme of what George W. Bush has brought to America. It’s the “I’m the leader (or decider, if you will), I have all the power, therefore I’m always right and if you tell me otherwise you’re helping the terrorists/devil/Al Franken/whoever” mentality. Not that W. created this mentality, of course, but he does epitomize it. It's time we moved beyond the "Man Show" mentality, even the Christianized version of it, and realized that leadership is more about responsibility than the use of power.
My reactions to this were many, as you might imagine, so I’ll try to keep them brief and coherent.
First of all, this seems to be the latest and greatest (or worstest, depending on how you use the terms) example of Christian ghetto-ism: where evangelical Christians will take something from the “secular” (I don’t like that word, but that’s the subject of another post) culture and make a supposedly Christianized version of it. Left Behind is the Christian Steven King. Bible Man is the Christian Power Rangers. I even heard a band recently that sounded like they wanted to be the Christian U2, as if Bono and company weren’t already model Christians. So here we have God-Men: the Christian Man Show.
Interestingly enough, the guy who is the face of God-Men is a comedian named Brad Stein, who apparently wants to be the Christian Dennis Leary. (Interesting aside- he’s featured in Alexandra Pelosi’s documentary, “Friends of God”- I highly recommend checking it out, and I’ll probably review it sometime soon) He’s aggressive in his style, he’s not afraid to curse (for which I whole-heartedly applaud him), and he’s not afraid to express opinions that not everyone will agree with. That’s fine. I don’t take issue with him personally or his style as an entertainer. Nor do I take issue with the fact that evangelical Christians are saying it’s OK to embody stereotypical manliness. My wife will tell you that I like fart jokes, football, and beer as much as the next guy. What I do take issue with is the extent to which the God-Men take this particular type of “manliness” and claim that it has it’s own ontology that is written into the DNA of every male.
Case in point is the example of the 26 year old construction worker who takes off to go camping with his friends and leaves his wife at home with their infant, despite her protests that she needs his help around the house. His justification: "I am supposed to be the leader of the family." Yes, you are supposed to be the leader of the family. You know what leaders do? They put the needs of those they lead over their own personal desires. You kicking off to go camping when your wife needs your help is not you being a man or a leader. It’s you being a spoiled little kid who does what he wants, gets bored, and expects mommy to clean up the mess. The only way you’re being a leader in this situation is if you say, “I need a weekend away, and I know you do, too. So I’ve booked you a few days at the spa next weekend and I’ll stay home with the baby then. That way we can both recharge.” Something tells me he this was not his course of action.
While God-Men may serve a good purpose and may very well be helpful to a lot of people, it seems that the extremes to which they go in promoting immature manliness will have as much, if not more destructive effect than any positives they may achieve. If I may lay my liberal cards on the table (if you haven’t already guessed this then you haven’t been reading me very closely), what God-Men really represents is the ideological extreme of what George W. Bush has brought to America. It’s the “I’m the leader (or decider, if you will), I have all the power, therefore I’m always right and if you tell me otherwise you’re helping the terrorists/devil/Al Franken/whoever” mentality. Not that W. created this mentality, of course, but he does epitomize it. It's time we moved beyond the "Man Show" mentality, even the Christianized version of it, and realized that leadership is more about responsibility than the use of power.
Friday, January 05, 2007
I'm baaack
Hey everyone. I'm back from my long blogging hiatus. Getting married, finishing my Master's thesis, and writing ordination papers tend to get in the way of updating the blog. A new post of substance will be up soon, and I won't wait three months in between postings again. I hope everyone had a happy new year!
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Love, not like
As a pastor, one of the things I frequently do is visit people when they're in the hospital. While hospitals are not my favorite places to spend time (I will never understand how doctors get used to the mixture of the smells of urine and sterile cleaning products), I do it because showing up and letting people know you care about them, even if it's only for five minutes, usually helps them feel better on days when they don't have too many things to be happy about.
The other day I was making the rounds at the hospital and one of the people on my list was a person in my congregation who, I'll be honest, I don't like very much. OK, I have an intense dislike for this person. Not many people like this particular individual, and with good reason. I'll just leave it at that. But this person was in the hospital, so I went. I wasn't there for terribly long. I inquired about their diagnosis and treatment, chatted about some unrelated matters, said a quick prayer, and left. To an outside observer this was your standard hospital visit.
I mentioned to a friend that I had visited someone that I didn't like very much. They said that was "very big" of me to do that, and that they imagined that a lot of people wouldn't do that. I shrugged it off because I didn't bring it up to brag. As a matter of fact, I felt a little guilty for having gone into the room with that feeling of dislike for this person in the back of my head and that I had been reluctant to go in the first place.
As I've reflected on this since I've begun to think that this brief visit was more important that I had first thought. In the Sermon on the Mount, the writer of Matthew's gospel has Jesus saying that if you only love those who love you, you're no better than a tax collector (or any other group of people you happen to dislike). We are called to love everyone, especially those who don't love us. Jesus didn't say anything about not liking people. There were plenty of people (mostly religious people) Jesus didn't like, but he loved them and died for them anyway.
I think that if I didn't make this brief hospital visit I wouldn't have any business calling myself a Christian, to say nothing of calling myself a pastor. If I had refused to go to that hospital room (particularly when I was visiting others in that same hospital who I like very much), that would have been proof that I had no integrity and did not practice what I preach. I did go, so maybe there's some hope for me after all.
Before I sound like I'm on my high horse, let me say that this was one brief hospital visit. It only proves that I had integrity and practiced what I preach for about ten minutes. Whether or not I embody these values I aspire to and exhort others to practice is a daily choice. How will I do next time I pass this person in the hall at church? Will I ignore them like I sometimes do? Or will I at the very least say hi and inquire how they're doing? I'm pretty sure we're never going to be best friends or anything(although you never know- stranger things have happened), but Jesus calls me to love this person, even if I don't happen to like them.
The other day I was making the rounds at the hospital and one of the people on my list was a person in my congregation who, I'll be honest, I don't like very much. OK, I have an intense dislike for this person. Not many people like this particular individual, and with good reason. I'll just leave it at that. But this person was in the hospital, so I went. I wasn't there for terribly long. I inquired about their diagnosis and treatment, chatted about some unrelated matters, said a quick prayer, and left. To an outside observer this was your standard hospital visit.
I mentioned to a friend that I had visited someone that I didn't like very much. They said that was "very big" of me to do that, and that they imagined that a lot of people wouldn't do that. I shrugged it off because I didn't bring it up to brag. As a matter of fact, I felt a little guilty for having gone into the room with that feeling of dislike for this person in the back of my head and that I had been reluctant to go in the first place.
As I've reflected on this since I've begun to think that this brief visit was more important that I had first thought. In the Sermon on the Mount, the writer of Matthew's gospel has Jesus saying that if you only love those who love you, you're no better than a tax collector (or any other group of people you happen to dislike). We are called to love everyone, especially those who don't love us. Jesus didn't say anything about not liking people. There were plenty of people (mostly religious people) Jesus didn't like, but he loved them and died for them anyway.
I think that if I didn't make this brief hospital visit I wouldn't have any business calling myself a Christian, to say nothing of calling myself a pastor. If I had refused to go to that hospital room (particularly when I was visiting others in that same hospital who I like very much), that would have been proof that I had no integrity and did not practice what I preach. I did go, so maybe there's some hope for me after all.
Before I sound like I'm on my high horse, let me say that this was one brief hospital visit. It only proves that I had integrity and practiced what I preach for about ten minutes. Whether or not I embody these values I aspire to and exhort others to practice is a daily choice. How will I do next time I pass this person in the hall at church? Will I ignore them like I sometimes do? Or will I at the very least say hi and inquire how they're doing? I'm pretty sure we're never going to be best friends or anything(although you never know- stranger things have happened), but Jesus calls me to love this person, even if I don't happen to like them.
Friday, September 01, 2006
"I grew up in a church like that"
When I was six, my family and I moved from Birmingham, Alabama to Denver, Colorado. After we had taken time to get settled, we went out to search for a church. It happened to be Easter Sunday, so we would see these churches put their best foot forward.
We went to one church that had it's own children's service, so my four year old brother and I went in. There was a lady in a pink Easter-Bunny suit who spent most of the time giving out candy to kids. Some guy with a large Donahue-style wireless microphone was interviewing the Easter Bunny and asking her what Easter was all about. She replied that it was all about her giving candy to children, to which all of us kids yelled back, "No! It's about Jesus rising from the grave!" This was the extent of the spiritual teaching at this church. The host then encouraged us to come back the next week because they would have a six-foot tall chocolate bar for us. Obviously, my brother and I were hooked.
Something weird happened after that, though. Our parents came to pick us up after the service and we were all excited from all the sugar they had given us and were dying to come back for the giant chocolate bar. Our mom, however, told us that we couldn't come back. When we asked why, she said, "Because I grew up in a church like that."
This did not compute in my six year old mind. She grew up in a church with giant chocolate bars and she didn't want us to have that experience? Aside from our teeth rotting, what was the problem? This place gave you tons of candy just for showing up!
Instead, they made us go to a church that didn't give us candy very much. This church, and the church we attended when we moved to Nashville a few years later, weren't nearly as entertaining as the church with the giant chocolate bar. Instead, these churches made us read the Bible and made us ask tough questions instead of giving us candy and easy answers. Instead of big church productions, they made us go out and serve people who weren't as well off as we are because Jesus had said something about "the least of these". They made us get to know the people in our church so that we would have meaningful relationships, instead of letting us just sit next to strangers who, like us, were being distracted by a flashy show.
When I was six I wanted to go to the church that was easy and entertaining. Instead my parents made me go to a church that pushed me to take a lifelong spiritual journey. I'm a pastor today because "I grew up in a church like that".
Back then I probably said something like, "You're mean." Twenty years later, all I can say is, "Thanks, Mom and Dad."
We went to one church that had it's own children's service, so my four year old brother and I went in. There was a lady in a pink Easter-Bunny suit who spent most of the time giving out candy to kids. Some guy with a large Donahue-style wireless microphone was interviewing the Easter Bunny and asking her what Easter was all about. She replied that it was all about her giving candy to children, to which all of us kids yelled back, "No! It's about Jesus rising from the grave!" This was the extent of the spiritual teaching at this church. The host then encouraged us to come back the next week because they would have a six-foot tall chocolate bar for us. Obviously, my brother and I were hooked.
Something weird happened after that, though. Our parents came to pick us up after the service and we were all excited from all the sugar they had given us and were dying to come back for the giant chocolate bar. Our mom, however, told us that we couldn't come back. When we asked why, she said, "Because I grew up in a church like that."
This did not compute in my six year old mind. She grew up in a church with giant chocolate bars and she didn't want us to have that experience? Aside from our teeth rotting, what was the problem? This place gave you tons of candy just for showing up!
Instead, they made us go to a church that didn't give us candy very much. This church, and the church we attended when we moved to Nashville a few years later, weren't nearly as entertaining as the church with the giant chocolate bar. Instead, these churches made us read the Bible and made us ask tough questions instead of giving us candy and easy answers. Instead of big church productions, they made us go out and serve people who weren't as well off as we are because Jesus had said something about "the least of these". They made us get to know the people in our church so that we would have meaningful relationships, instead of letting us just sit next to strangers who, like us, were being distracted by a flashy show.
When I was six I wanted to go to the church that was easy and entertaining. Instead my parents made me go to a church that pushed me to take a lifelong spiritual journey. I'm a pastor today because "I grew up in a church like that".
Back then I probably said something like, "You're mean." Twenty years later, all I can say is, "Thanks, Mom and Dad."
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Support
A friend from college recently told me about a new direction he's going in his life. He's joining the staff of an evangelistic ministry that works with college students, and he has to raise his own salary to do it, so he's asking everyone he knows for support. Long story short, relations between myself and this particular organization are not friendly. I was active in it in college because it was pretty much the only Christian fellowship there was at the school. I always had some problems with the theology but I dealt with it for the most part.
Then at the end of my junior year I was kicked out. I was told that I wasn't teachable, that I asked too many questions, had too many ideas that weren't acceptable, and that all of my questioning was dangerous for others who were "young in their faith" because it could cause them to stumble. Needless to say, that experience was pretty bad. I was really wrestling with my sense of calling to be a pastor, and getting rejected from a Christian group did not help matters.
When my friend told me he was going on staff with this ministry, I had to sit with my decision for a while because I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. On the one hand I have such tremendous theological and methodological disagreements with this ministry that I think they often do as much or more harm than good. Should I give money to an organization that I don't support? On the other hand, he feels a very strong calling to do this ministry, and he has a very tough task raising the support he needs. He is a person of tremendous faith and compassion, and I know he will do great ministry and positively impact people's lives, even though I have some serious disagreements with the theology he'll be teaching to students.
I've decided to go with the latter thoughts and support him financially. My contribution goes directly to him and not to the organization generally. It's not a large contribution, but then again, I don't have a lot of money to give. But I hope that my financial and prayerful support of him and his ministry will help heal some of the divisions and bitterness I've experienced in my own life with this organization.
Then at the end of my junior year I was kicked out. I was told that I wasn't teachable, that I asked too many questions, had too many ideas that weren't acceptable, and that all of my questioning was dangerous for others who were "young in their faith" because it could cause them to stumble. Needless to say, that experience was pretty bad. I was really wrestling with my sense of calling to be a pastor, and getting rejected from a Christian group did not help matters.
When my friend told me he was going on staff with this ministry, I had to sit with my decision for a while because I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. On the one hand I have such tremendous theological and methodological disagreements with this ministry that I think they often do as much or more harm than good. Should I give money to an organization that I don't support? On the other hand, he feels a very strong calling to do this ministry, and he has a very tough task raising the support he needs. He is a person of tremendous faith and compassion, and I know he will do great ministry and positively impact people's lives, even though I have some serious disagreements with the theology he'll be teaching to students.
I've decided to go with the latter thoughts and support him financially. My contribution goes directly to him and not to the organization generally. It's not a large contribution, but then again, I don't have a lot of money to give. But I hope that my financial and prayerful support of him and his ministry will help heal some of the divisions and bitterness I've experienced in my own life with this organization.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Competition
My fellow Nashvillians are by now familiar with the woes of our friends at Bellvue Community Church. For those unfamiliar, BCC is a local mega-church whose pastor was fired very suddenly several weeks ago (click here for the Tennessean story). I've tried very hard to avoid being judgmental of the church and the pastor, because no matter who is at fault, everybody loses by having their conflicts displayed very prominently in the media. But one thing about this incident has been really bugging me, so I need to speak up.
As part of the pastor's severance package with the church, he had to agree to a non-compete clause. Basically, he had to sign a legally binding document saying that he wouldn't go start another church for at least a year. Businesses use these kinds of things all the time and it makes sense for them. Businesses operate in a competitive marketplace where everyone assumes a limited amount of resources and a fixed client pool. I would argue, however, that this makes no sense for a church to operate this way.
Now, I'm not naive enough to just say "churches shouldn't compete with each other, we're all on the same team" and leave it there. I know that some people hop from church to church, attracted by the latest program or the Starbucks in the church lobby. It's an unfortunate fact of life that churches compete with one another, and the best I can do is not to obsess over defining who is "winning" the competition simply by numbers. After all, when it came to first-century messianic movements, Jesus' group was pretty small.
What bothers me about the non-compete clause is not the idea that churches compete with each other for members (that fact bothers me regardless), but that the church board felt that the pastor going off and starting a new church would be a threat to them. It makes me wonder what it was that drew people to this church in the first place. Each member has to answer that question for him or herself, of course, but if someone is more loyal to a particularly charismatic leader than they are to a church community, they have a real problem.
There are too many churches and other ministries that are more focused on following a particular leader than they are on worshiping God. I once met a woman who works for a Christian media-watchdog group who freely admitted that she was more committed to the leader of the ministry than she was to Jesus. I can't help but wonder how many mega-churches would fold the second their founding pastor left.
If the glue holding a church or a ministry together is the public persona of a particular leader, then you're putting all your eggs in one basket. If this person is found to be having an affair, is mismanaging their money, gets fired, or dies, the whole thing more or less falls apart. If, however, the glue that holds a church or ministry together is a bond between all the people in the community based on trust, affection, and a common devotion to Jesus Christ, then the comings and goings of individual leaders won't make or break the success of the community.
To his credit, the ousted pastor of BCC is encouraging his former parishioners to remain loyal to God and to the church, and not to him. I don't doubt his sincerity at all. But I wonder what will happen if he does end up starting a new church in the Nashville area. Then we'll see where people's loyalties lie.
Sidenote: The situation at BCC was part of a sermon on Christian unity I preached on August 6. You can find the audio of that message here, if you're so inclined.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Faith and Politics
I just read a New York Times article where a mega-church pastor got in trouble for speaking out against evangelicals who are a little too friendly with the Republican Party. Apparently he had a mass defection from his mega-church, which is probably a good thing. The whole idea of faith being political is taboo to some, and an absolute necessity for others. A few months ago I preached a sermon referencing Hurricane Katrina, and a church member with whom I often disagree politically complimented me for "not getting too political" with my sermon.
I think perhaps we're not all saying the same thing when we talk about faith being political. Religious convictions can and should lead us to hold political opinions, but that doesn't mean that we have to become a card-carrying member of one political party or another. That's faith being partisan, not just political. I don't believe that our faith should lead us to be blindly partisan, even though my religious convictions end up leading me to vote with one particular party more often than the other.
While I don't believe that being partisan is a good idea, I don't think you can be a Christian and not be political. In the first century it was impossible to be a Christian and a fully loyal citizen of the Roman Empire at the same time. Christians proclaimed "Jesus is Lord", not so subtly implying "Caesar is not". One of the earliest Christian confessions was an unashamedly political statement!
More basic than this historical tidbit, though, is the simple fact that things like politics and economics deal with the messy realities of everyday life. Politics and economics are the means by which we figure out how we obtain the resources we need to survive day to day, how we're doing to use our resources as a community, and how we're going to get along with each other. These things deal with the basic realities of everyday life, so our faith has to be concerned with these things. God wants to be a part of every aspect of our lives, not just relegated to the region of our brains that deal with abstract ideas. To do this would be to keep God trapped in the private parts of our lives. God is personal, but not private.
While our faith should not lead us to blind partisan loyalty, it should get us passionately involved with political issues. One resource I'd recommend to help you think about the interaction of faith and politics is Sojourners. Ask tough questions, think very hard about these issues, and please let your faith motivate you politically.
I think perhaps we're not all saying the same thing when we talk about faith being political. Religious convictions can and should lead us to hold political opinions, but that doesn't mean that we have to become a card-carrying member of one political party or another. That's faith being partisan, not just political. I don't believe that our faith should lead us to be blindly partisan, even though my religious convictions end up leading me to vote with one particular party more often than the other.
While I don't believe that being partisan is a good idea, I don't think you can be a Christian and not be political. In the first century it was impossible to be a Christian and a fully loyal citizen of the Roman Empire at the same time. Christians proclaimed "Jesus is Lord", not so subtly implying "Caesar is not". One of the earliest Christian confessions was an unashamedly political statement!
More basic than this historical tidbit, though, is the simple fact that things like politics and economics deal with the messy realities of everyday life. Politics and economics are the means by which we figure out how we obtain the resources we need to survive day to day, how we're doing to use our resources as a community, and how we're going to get along with each other. These things deal with the basic realities of everyday life, so our faith has to be concerned with these things. God wants to be a part of every aspect of our lives, not just relegated to the region of our brains that deal with abstract ideas. To do this would be to keep God trapped in the private parts of our lives. God is personal, but not private.
While our faith should not lead us to blind partisan loyalty, it should get us passionately involved with political issues. One resource I'd recommend to help you think about the interaction of faith and politics is Sojourners. Ask tough questions, think very hard about these issues, and please let your faith motivate you politically.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Invitation to Discipleship
In the church I serve, one of the last parts of the late worship service is called the "Invitation to Christian Discipleship". What we usually mean by that is "Invitation to Church Membership". As we sing the last hymn we invite anyone who wants to join the church forward. It's a pseudo-alter call, I guess.
I can't help but wondering if we're accidentally doing something of a disservice to people by calling the invitation to church membership the "Invitation to Christian Discipleship". I certainly believe that participation in the life of a community of faith is part of being a disciple. Furthermore I believe that the act of formalizing one's covenant with such a community, symbolized in the act of formally becoming a member, is an important part of being a disciple. But I wonder if we unintentionally imply that discipleship and membership are the same thing by doing it this way in worship.
This is the same basic argument I have with my evangelical friends. I think that too often evangelicals get caught up in trying to get as many converts as possible that they stop there and don't follow through. Just like a call to church membership, invitations to one defining moment of conversion seem way too focused on beefing up our numbers. Creating believers or members is an easy process. Creating disciples is something else altogether.
Discipleship involves relationships. A relationship with God and relationships with other people. Discipleship involves a lot of trial and error. Disciples take two steps forward and one step back because they path they are trying to follow is no less than the trail blazed by Jesus, which is incredibly difficult to follow. It's not like a normal road, with one definite path. There are many paths Jesus leads disciples down, and the path that works for one person is entirely wrong for another.
Making disciples is not glamorous. It doesn't yield impressive statistics and its measure of success is not easily measured. It takes hard work, patience, and a bit of faith. Being a disciple and helping others to be disciples is messy, and it's not for everybody.
When we invite people forward to "become disciples" in worship, maybe we should include a disclaimer that people should not undertake this journey lightly. Becoming a member of the church means signing on the dotted line and making a nominal commitment. Becoming a disciple of Jesus means throwing your whole life into chaos, clinging to the hope that all of this mess is one day going to make sense.
When you become a member you hear, "Welcome to the club."
When you become a disciple you hear, "Welcome to the journey..."
I can't help but wondering if we're accidentally doing something of a disservice to people by calling the invitation to church membership the "Invitation to Christian Discipleship". I certainly believe that participation in the life of a community of faith is part of being a disciple. Furthermore I believe that the act of formalizing one's covenant with such a community, symbolized in the act of formally becoming a member, is an important part of being a disciple. But I wonder if we unintentionally imply that discipleship and membership are the same thing by doing it this way in worship.
This is the same basic argument I have with my evangelical friends. I think that too often evangelicals get caught up in trying to get as many converts as possible that they stop there and don't follow through. Just like a call to church membership, invitations to one defining moment of conversion seem way too focused on beefing up our numbers. Creating believers or members is an easy process. Creating disciples is something else altogether.
Discipleship involves relationships. A relationship with God and relationships with other people. Discipleship involves a lot of trial and error. Disciples take two steps forward and one step back because they path they are trying to follow is no less than the trail blazed by Jesus, which is incredibly difficult to follow. It's not like a normal road, with one definite path. There are many paths Jesus leads disciples down, and the path that works for one person is entirely wrong for another.
Making disciples is not glamorous. It doesn't yield impressive statistics and its measure of success is not easily measured. It takes hard work, patience, and a bit of faith. Being a disciple and helping others to be disciples is messy, and it's not for everybody.
When we invite people forward to "become disciples" in worship, maybe we should include a disclaimer that people should not undertake this journey lightly. Becoming a member of the church means signing on the dotted line and making a nominal commitment. Becoming a disciple of Jesus means throwing your whole life into chaos, clinging to the hope that all of this mess is one day going to make sense.
When you become a member you hear, "Welcome to the club."
When you become a disciple you hear, "Welcome to the journey..."
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Spiritual but not religious?
"I'm not religious, but I'm spiritual."
That's a phrase we hear a lot now and I'll admit, I'm not a fan of it. Not that I'm a proponent of blind adherence to a doctrinal system or that I'm against personal spiritual quests. Far from it. I've just heard this phrase used too many times and found my BS-meter going off quite loudly.
I once went to a presentation given by the father of a student killed in the Columbine HS massacre back in 1999. He talked about his faith and his church and I really enjoyed the presentation. But then he closed with (exact quotes): "I don't consider myself a religious person, but I do consider myself a spiritual person. So if you'd like to accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, pray this prayer with me..." C'mon. You're not just talking about spirituality here, you're talking about religion, too. Be honest about it.
There's a couple presuppositions that go into the "religious but not spiritual" statement that I think go largely unexamined. First is the presupposition that religion is bad. Why? Why is religion such a bad thing? I think we're still operating with a colloquial definition of religion that is basically borrowed from Martin Luther's scathing (and generally correct) critiques of the abuse of papal power in the sixteenth century.
Religion is only a bad thing if we let it be. Being religious does not have to mean that one unquestioningly accepts everything that one's tradition teaches. Being religious does not necessarily make one a fanatic who would strap a bomb to their chest to go blow infidels to the hell to which they're already going.
Being religious can and should mean that one has committed to a relationship with a religious tradition. Like any relationship, there are things that one likes and things that one dislikes about the partner in the relationship. One's annoyance (and occasional anger) at the partner's flaws is outweighed by the love one has for the partner. One is committed to work through these issues and compromise to find a point at which both can be happy. Being religious in the best sense means that you should, in fact, have points of disagreement with your tradition.
The other largely unexamined presupposition is the meaning of spirituality. Spirituality is largely an individual undertaking. One's spirituality largely concerns the emotions and beliefs that one has. Spirituality is the realm of intimacy with the divine. These are great things but we can't stop there.
For one thing, where does one get all these lovely ideas about God that aids one's spirituality? From a religious tradition, of course! Religious traditions are the vehicles by which one generation passes on religious and spiritual knowledge to the next generation. That generation makes its own contributions and passes the whole package on to the next generation.
If I may shamelessly borrow a phrase from Jim Wallis, God is personal, but never private.
If one was only religious but had no element of spirituality then one would not truly be encountering God, they would only have a relationship with a doctrinal system. (Sidenote: I believe this is the exact problem with Christian fundamentalism, but that will be the subject of another blog posting)
Conversely, if one is spiritual but has no engagement with a religious tradition or community then one's view of God will only be as big as themselves. If, instead, one engages with a community, one gets not only the insights of their individual spiritual pursuits, but has the opportunity to have them challenged and enriched by the spiritual experiences of others. We are able to accomplish more as a community than we could as a group of individuals who never engaged the great spiritual questions together. In a religious community the whole is truly greater than the sum of its parts.
I consider myself a spiritual person. I am also unapologetically religious. For it is in the meeting of both religion and spirituality that we truly encounter God.
That's a phrase we hear a lot now and I'll admit, I'm not a fan of it. Not that I'm a proponent of blind adherence to a doctrinal system or that I'm against personal spiritual quests. Far from it. I've just heard this phrase used too many times and found my BS-meter going off quite loudly.
I once went to a presentation given by the father of a student killed in the Columbine HS massacre back in 1999. He talked about his faith and his church and I really enjoyed the presentation. But then he closed with (exact quotes): "I don't consider myself a religious person, but I do consider myself a spiritual person. So if you'd like to accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, pray this prayer with me..." C'mon. You're not just talking about spirituality here, you're talking about religion, too. Be honest about it.
There's a couple presuppositions that go into the "religious but not spiritual" statement that I think go largely unexamined. First is the presupposition that religion is bad. Why? Why is religion such a bad thing? I think we're still operating with a colloquial definition of religion that is basically borrowed from Martin Luther's scathing (and generally correct) critiques of the abuse of papal power in the sixteenth century.
Religion is only a bad thing if we let it be. Being religious does not have to mean that one unquestioningly accepts everything that one's tradition teaches. Being religious does not necessarily make one a fanatic who would strap a bomb to their chest to go blow infidels to the hell to which they're already going.
Being religious can and should mean that one has committed to a relationship with a religious tradition. Like any relationship, there are things that one likes and things that one dislikes about the partner in the relationship. One's annoyance (and occasional anger) at the partner's flaws is outweighed by the love one has for the partner. One is committed to work through these issues and compromise to find a point at which both can be happy. Being religious in the best sense means that you should, in fact, have points of disagreement with your tradition.
The other largely unexamined presupposition is the meaning of spirituality. Spirituality is largely an individual undertaking. One's spirituality largely concerns the emotions and beliefs that one has. Spirituality is the realm of intimacy with the divine. These are great things but we can't stop there.
For one thing, where does one get all these lovely ideas about God that aids one's spirituality? From a religious tradition, of course! Religious traditions are the vehicles by which one generation passes on religious and spiritual knowledge to the next generation. That generation makes its own contributions and passes the whole package on to the next generation.
If I may shamelessly borrow a phrase from Jim Wallis, God is personal, but never private.
If one was only religious but had no element of spirituality then one would not truly be encountering God, they would only have a relationship with a doctrinal system. (Sidenote: I believe this is the exact problem with Christian fundamentalism, but that will be the subject of another blog posting)
Conversely, if one is spiritual but has no engagement with a religious tradition or community then one's view of God will only be as big as themselves. If, instead, one engages with a community, one gets not only the insights of their individual spiritual pursuits, but has the opportunity to have them challenged and enriched by the spiritual experiences of others. We are able to accomplish more as a community than we could as a group of individuals who never engaged the great spiritual questions together. In a religious community the whole is truly greater than the sum of its parts.
I consider myself a spiritual person. I am also unapologetically religious. For it is in the meeting of both religion and spirituality that we truly encounter God.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Katrina revisited
Hurricane season is upon us again and is forcing us to recall images we'd probably rather forget from last year. Hurricane Katrina was in the news again recently. The President of the Baptist Seminary in New Orleans told the Southern Baptist Convention that Hurricane Katrina "washed away the Sin in New Orleans".
I'm actually going to agree with him ever so slightly, although I will take the statement in an entirely different way than he meant it. He meant that the hurricane was God's judgment on the city, a la Soddom and Gomorrah, and that there was now more openness to evangelical Christianity in the city. I can't pretend to agree in the slightest on this one.
I would, however, say that Katrina (which, admittedly, does mean "purity") 'washed away' a particularly insidious sin, or at least made it harder for us to commit said sin. The sin I'm talking about is the sin of omission- the sin of willful ignorance.
In New Orleans, as in most cities in the world, the gap between rich and poor is severe, and as with most cities in America, the racial divide among the rich and poor is very stark. But this was very easy to ignore. When you visited New Orleans you only went to the nice downtown areas, the French Quarter, and saw the nice houses on State Street. We never thought about the poor areas and their mostly African-American population, so it was almost as if they were not there. Out of sight, out of mind.
Katrina changed all that. Those who had the means to get out did so (including, thankfully, Jessica's uncle and his family). Those with the money to purchase adequate insurance were able to replace most of the things that were destroyed. While it was by no means easy, those who had wealth were able to rebuild their lives.
But there were many who did not own cars or couldn't pay for transportation out of the city before the storm. We saw endless news footage of these people standing on the roofs of their houses, pleading for the news helicopters to come in and rescue them. Clean-up crews are still finding these people's bodies in homes destroyed by the flood. They couldn't get themselves out and no one else bothered to help them.
In the Hebrew Bible we read again and again how God commanded the nation of Israel to take measures to provide for those who could not provide for themselves. To allow your neighbor to starve while you had food to spare was a great sin. I believe that is still true. I believe that we as a society sin greatly everyday by allowing our neighbors to suffer while we have become experts at pretending that they're not even there.
So in a sense, Hurricane Katrina did wash away sin in New Orleans. But it wasn't the sin of "those other, godless people". It was our own sin. The flood waters washed away much of our ability to pretend that our suffering neighbor did not exist, and that we had no responsibility toward them.
I would like to believe that there has been some repentance, some attempt at reconciliation. But that remains to be seen. We will see the extent of our repentance and reconciliation when the next natural disaster comes. Jim Wallis summed it up when he said that it took a horrible natural disaster to expose and even worse social disaster.
Now that hurricane season has begun again, the next natural disaster is just around the corner. What will the natural disaster show about us as a society? Will we have turned from our sin of omission? Or will we need another, possibly worse example to show us the depth of our communal sin? I pray that will not be the case, because it is the poor and powerless who suffer because of the sins of those like me who do have wealth and power.
I'm actually going to agree with him ever so slightly, although I will take the statement in an entirely different way than he meant it. He meant that the hurricane was God's judgment on the city, a la Soddom and Gomorrah, and that there was now more openness to evangelical Christianity in the city. I can't pretend to agree in the slightest on this one.
I would, however, say that Katrina (which, admittedly, does mean "purity") 'washed away' a particularly insidious sin, or at least made it harder for us to commit said sin. The sin I'm talking about is the sin of omission- the sin of willful ignorance.
In New Orleans, as in most cities in the world, the gap between rich and poor is severe, and as with most cities in America, the racial divide among the rich and poor is very stark. But this was very easy to ignore. When you visited New Orleans you only went to the nice downtown areas, the French Quarter, and saw the nice houses on State Street. We never thought about the poor areas and their mostly African-American population, so it was almost as if they were not there. Out of sight, out of mind.
Katrina changed all that. Those who had the means to get out did so (including, thankfully, Jessica's uncle and his family). Those with the money to purchase adequate insurance were able to replace most of the things that were destroyed. While it was by no means easy, those who had wealth were able to rebuild their lives.
But there were many who did not own cars or couldn't pay for transportation out of the city before the storm. We saw endless news footage of these people standing on the roofs of their houses, pleading for the news helicopters to come in and rescue them. Clean-up crews are still finding these people's bodies in homes destroyed by the flood. They couldn't get themselves out and no one else bothered to help them.
In the Hebrew Bible we read again and again how God commanded the nation of Israel to take measures to provide for those who could not provide for themselves. To allow your neighbor to starve while you had food to spare was a great sin. I believe that is still true. I believe that we as a society sin greatly everyday by allowing our neighbors to suffer while we have become experts at pretending that they're not even there.
So in a sense, Hurricane Katrina did wash away sin in New Orleans. But it wasn't the sin of "those other, godless people". It was our own sin. The flood waters washed away much of our ability to pretend that our suffering neighbor did not exist, and that we had no responsibility toward them.
I would like to believe that there has been some repentance, some attempt at reconciliation. But that remains to be seen. We will see the extent of our repentance and reconciliation when the next natural disaster comes. Jim Wallis summed it up when he said that it took a horrible natural disaster to expose and even worse social disaster.
Now that hurricane season has begun again, the next natural disaster is just around the corner. What will the natural disaster show about us as a society? Will we have turned from our sin of omission? Or will we need another, possibly worse example to show us the depth of our communal sin? I pray that will not be the case, because it is the poor and powerless who suffer because of the sins of those like me who do have wealth and power.
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