Losing My Religion

Sunday Meditations: The Watching-and-Waiting Season

2009-12-20T07:00:00.001-07:00

Starting today, and at least every other Sunday for awhile, I'm going to do something I haven't really done on this blog: a feature. For lack of a better term, we'll call this feature "Sunday Meditations". This biweekly post (or weekly, if I can get some momentum) will be more devotional in nature--no rants, no theological arguments, just some thoughts and observations about God and the Christian life, and maybe a Scripture or two to ponder. If this goes over well, we'll ~~launch a podcast and start a major marketing campaign and conference tour~~ be glad it's helping someone.

THE WATCHING-AND-WAITING SEASON

These past few weeks leading up to Christmas are known on the church calendar as Advent. It is typically a time when we light a series of candles (some of us, anyhow) and anticipate the celebration of Christ's birth.

At the community where I help out with worship, we launched the season of Advent with a special gathering utilizing music and the arts. At the beginning, we asked everyone to ponder two questions:

1. What would it be like for us if Jesus had not yet come? What if we were still waiting for Him?2. In what areas of your life are you still waiting for Him?

Advent is more than just the season of anticipating Christmas. It represents the extended time of waiting, of longing for the Messiah to come. And even though the Messiah Jesus has already come--and I don't know if you've noticed this--our problems didn't go away when He came. Even as we celebrate His birth, the effects of His coming are an ongoing process in each of our lives. Even though in the eyes of God it was finished before it started--from our perspective, we're still walking through a timeline, and our redemption is working itself out over time. And there are areas in each of our lives where, quite honestly, we are still waiting for God to make an appearance.

It reminds me of the passage in Romans 8:19-23

For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body. (NASB)

I find it very interesting that this is a New Testament passage, written after Messiah's arrival. I believe in some respect the earth was groaning for the coming of Messiah prior to His arrival on earth 2000 years ago. But He will come yet again, and until that time the whole earth continues to groan. And even we ourselves are groaning--and the areas we feel that longing the most are the areas of our lives that remain broken, those areas where we still need the Messiah to come and make it right. I know this this true in my own life and soul.

And here's the part that makes me scratch my head: the Bible says God is behind this somehow. In anticipation of the revelation of God, it says God has subjected the creation to futility (that includes us, as created beings). Before there is a revealing, there is a subjection to futility. Interesting.

I don't pretend to know all that this means, but in some ways it explains why there are still areas of unfinished business, areas where I need Jesus to come, but I am still waiting. He has come, and not yet come. It is that futility season that comes before the revelation, and it is somehow part of the plan.

So in this Advent season, even while we prepare in hope and celebration, don't be afraid to embrace the longing. Maybe we shouldn't just get mad and frustrated at God for those things we need Him to do that He hasn't done yet. Maybe we can trust Him with the season of futility, and embrace that longing. Because it is the part of our life that still waits for the Messiah to come. That is the heart of Advent.

He has come. And He will come again.

He will come. May the hope arise in our hearts.

Thought for the Day--Or Maybe for a Couple of Days

2009-12-15T11:08:00.003-07:00

Here is Nugget #84 from the Official Collection of Proverbs and Random Thoughts from Jeff the Twisted, Slightly Off-Center Philosopher:

"Today, we determine whether someone is part of the church by what they believe...yet when the church began, the determining factor for who was part of the church was Whom they believed in."

What We're Looking For--from Communitas

2009-12-14T17:49:00.002-07:00

An excerpt from my post today on Communitas:

A number of years ago–longer ago than I (or they) probably care to admit–U2 hit the airwaves with a breakout hit, “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” Evangelicals who had tentatively embraced the Irish band for their Christian-themed songs were aghast at the lyrics, penned by lead singer Bono.

Just in case anyone has unexplainable gaps in their knowledge of pop culture, here are the lyrics that raised such a ruckus:

I believe in the Kingdom Come
Then all the colors will bleed into one
Bleed into one
But yes, I’m still runnin’

You broke the bonds and You loosed the chains
Carried the cross of my shame
Of my shame
You know I believe it
But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

(Read the rest here.)

A Woman's Voice

2009-12-11T22:00:00.003-07:00

Pam's post on Communitas today reminded me of this song by Patty Griffin, which I recently heard and which captivated me immediately. It's not a Christmas song, not even a "Christian" song--but the very human depiction of Mary in this song speaks volumes to me about the struggles and sacrifices of so many women, and does so in ways that words alone cannot.

"Mary" by Patty Griffin

Mary, you’re covered in roses
You’re covered in ashes, you’re covered in rain
You’re covered in babies, covered in slashes
Covered in wilderness, covered in stains

You cast aside the sheets, you cast aside the shroud
Of another man who served the world proud
You greet another son, you lose another one
On some sunny day and always you stay
Mary

Jesus said, “Mother I couldn’t stay another day longer…”
He flies right by and leaves a kiss upon her face
While the angels are singing his praises in a blaze of glory
Mary stays behind and starts cleaning up the place

Oh Mary, she moves behind me
She leaves her fingerprints everywhere
Everytime the snow drifts, every way the sand shifts
Even when the night lifts, she's always there

Jesus said, “Mother I couldn’t stay another day longer…”
He flies right by and leaves a kiss upon her face
While the angels are singing his praises in a blaze of glory
Mary stays behind and starts cleaning up the place

Mary, you’re covered in roses
You’re covered in ruins, you’re covered in secrets
You’re covered in treetops, covered in birds
Who can sing a million songs without any words
You cast aside the sheets, you cast aside the shroud
Of another man who served the world proud
You greet another son, you lose another one
On some sunny day and always you stay
Mary

The Inoculation of Religion

2009-12-11T09:10:00.005-07:00

Recent discussions on this here blog have got my mind turning...as if it didn't have enough to do. :) Not really so much agreeing or disagreeing with comments made, or anything like that...just thinking.

Specifically, I've been thinking about what would make us not know when it's real.

For a long time I've thought of religion as working the same way that a vaccine does, only instead of making us healthier, it has the opposite effect.

When we are trying to avoid getting sick with a disease (like swine flu, for instance), we take a vaccine for it. A vaccine is actually the a dead or weakened form of the actual disease that doctors inject into our bodies--not enough to really make us sick, but enough to prompt our immune system to produce antibodies against it. Once we have the antibodies, chances that we will get sick for real are greatly reduced, and we won't get the disease if we are exposed to it.

Maybe the analogy isn't perfect, but this is pretty much how I see religion. It is a weakened or dead form of true spirituality and relationship--a poor substitute--but when we are injected with it, somehow it inoculates us so we are less apt to recognize or accept the real thing when it comes along. We become self-satisfied with our religion, so we don't hunger for more. And for someone who has been deeply inoculated with it, it can be that much more difficult to even convince that person that there is more to be had.

Jesus wasn't necessarily talking about the same thing here, but the analogy sort of applies when He said, "Those who taste the old wine don't desire the new, for they say, 'The old is good enough.'" I think that's where I'm going with the religion thing. In many ways religion satifies us the way old wine does, so we have no interest in new wine when it comes.

So how do people lose their religion (like the blog title suggests)? If we're inoculated by a substitute, how is it that some folks do embrace the real? Well, this is sort of where the metaphor breaks down--because unlike a vaccine that prevents us from getting ill, this religion vaccine is not entirely foolproof. I'm convinced that we can bypass its effects. But I also am convinced that we need a little bit of help.

Referring again to Jesus' words, He said, "No one can come to Me unless the Father who sent Me draws Him." In other words, even in our embracing of Christ, God Himself initiates the process; we are unable to come to Him on our own. And I want to point out that Jesus spoke these words to a highly religious group of people. So, yes, it's possible to escape religion, and I personally think it is an ongoing quest for every Christ-follower to shed their religion for the real thing. (For me, it's happened in layers.) But I think the reason some people get a glimpse of the real thing, to the point that they see the fallacy of religion and start searching for something more, is that somehow God has gotten through the fog--even in their initial encounter with Christ, or somewhere along the path. Something sparks us and convinces us that the religion we've been experiencing isn't all there is, and we begin to hunger. Based on what Jesus said...I'm not even certain that this comes from within ourselves, but is God reaching out to us. Those who for some reason never feel this drawing, never see a need for something more.

Two things before I stop this meandering. First--I recognize that not everyone's battle is with religion, that there are many who come to Christ without any religious/spiritual background at all. In my experience, these folks are far easier to disciple because they have less to unlearn. But in America, there are few who have not taken the religion vaccine in some form--whether it be Christianity or some other religion. Most of us have some sort of religious belief or background.

Second--I can already hear the theologians saying, "What about the 'pure and undefiled religion' mentioned in the book of James?" In looking at that passage, and considering that it is the only place in the whole Bible where the words "religion" and "religious" are used so prolifically, I submit that this is a poor translation. The Greek word simply means "observance", which does not have to be religious. I don't think James was speaking of religion the way we are speaking of it here. Truth be told, if you are compelled to defend religion in general by this one passage, you probably need to re-read this post. Let the reader understand. :)

Bottom line for me--religion as I have described it inoculates us against something we need, not something we should be avoiding. Religion is a tool of Satan to keep us satisfied with candy so we don't seek out real nourishment. In that way--I am very thankful for the ways in which the voice of God has overcome my inoculations, which apparently were many. There is no way I can count religion as my friend.

No. way.

Dear God, If It Isn't Any Trouble...Please Fix The Outdoor Thermostat. Thanks.

2009-12-09T08:11:00.007-07:00

I walked out the door this morning to the second coldest actual temperature I ever remember experiencing. Actual temp: -15 degrees F, windchill -26.

That's -26 actual degrees Celsius, for my Australian peeps.

I have a blogger friend in Alaska who is probably laughing right now.

The coldest morning in my memory was in Cincinnati, Ohio, 20 years ago this winter. Actual temp: -20 degrees. I remember this specifically because the engine block in my car froze, and I didn't know it until it started smoking and clunking and died on the freeway while I was trying to go take a test. Things aren't that critical today. :) I've probably been in colder weather, but I was too young to remember. I only remember as a kid living in Michigan that a few times my mom wouldn't let me go outside and play in the snow because it was too cold, and I didn't understand why.

Yeah, I know. There are some wise guys both north and south of me that think I shouldn't complain, that think I asked for this in moving to Denver, and what did I expect? The northerners are going, "You think this is cold? You should have been there in the winter of 19__. Now THAT was cold!"

And the southerners are going, "Serves you right, traitor. Now where did I put that slightly heavier short-sleeved shirt? It's cold outside!"

So let me just put this into perspective a little bit:

I haven't experienced this kind of cold in 20 years. (Translation: I'm not used to it yet.) It takes a little time to acclimate.
Even the natives are complaining. One lady who has lived here over 20 years said she's never felt it like this. So not even Denverites are used to this.

I don't know if anyone "gets used" to -15 degrees. Except maybe the Inuits. Probably this is swimsuit weather for them.

Thankfully, I think we've hit the bottom for now. We're climbing to a balmy 20 above today, and back to seasonal temps by the weekend.

So...what's the coldest temperature you've ever experienced?

We Know When It's Real--or Do We?

2009-12-07T19:45:00.000-07:00

In response to my previous post, Gary D. said this (among other things):

"Realness and authenticity are valuable things in ones spiritual life with Christ. You are so correct when you say that there are people inside the bubble who are deceived, who think that because they are in the protective bubble that all is right and ok."

And Erin followed with this statement:

"My prayer was (in response to a series of somethings that had happened in the church) 'If this is who you really are, I want nothing more to do with you.'"

Completely bypassing the glee I feel that someone thinks I am "so correct", :) I have continued to turn this over in my mind...because I remember how many things about the bubble seemed absolutely real to me at one time. And what was so weird was that I would equate the realness of God with the realness of the environment around me, and I could not understand for the life of me why someone would not want what I had. :) The nonbeliever perceived what I had as fake, and evangelism almost became more about convincing them that no, it was really real.

Because it was real to me. Our perception is the "truth" we live in, isn't it?

Deception and denial are tricky little beasts, for the simple reason that we don't know we are in denial, because we are...well...in denial. It's a self-perpetuating system that is driven by the filters in our mind.

In my experience, the only thing that breaks this cycle is when an anomaly is thrown into the works that doesn't fit the equation...something that our neat, clean little bubble world just can't explain, and somehow we wake up just enough to realize we can't ignore it. (This is why I like it when Christians get squirmy.) The anomaly is what gets us asking the questions, gets us to realizing the filters we are using are actually preventing us from seeing what is real--and prompts us to ask ourselves, "Well, if what I thought was real, isn't...what is?"

So in a way, it is these anomalies that are God's needles hitting our bubbles. :)

What makes Erin's comment so poignant to me is that just as I equated the perceived reality of my bubble with the reality of God, the opposite often happens when the bubble bursts. The danger is that when this happens, many people end up walking away from God completely, simply because they sort of decide if all of this bubble world wasn't real--then God must not be, either. I think this is the largest reason why former Christians become atheists or agnostics. I can't go there with them, because something in me realized that God was still real, even if the bubble wasn't. But I understand why some people do go there. And I have to embrace the painful irony that there are agnostics and atheists out there who arrived at that conclusion with the same motivation I have in embracing a more organic form of faith: we share a deep longing for what is real.

Interesting to think about, isn't it? We have more in common with some atheists than most of us want to admit--because even though we arrive at completely different conclusions, we're still looking for the same thing!

I love the new Wendy's Hamburger commercials (although I rarely eat Wendy's Hamburgers). :) The whole theme is about how they use beef that is fresh, never frozen, and the jingle goes: "When it's real/You know that it's real." It's a great advertising campain, imho, because it touches the deep desire in our culture for authenticity...but in fact the funny scenes that underscore this fact are all about how we think certain things are real, but they turn out not to be. In fact, the only thing about the commercial where we know that it's real is when Wendy's fresh, never-frozen hamburger patties are shown in contrast to the pre-fab frozen hockey-puck patties of the "other guys." :)

My point? We don't always know when it's real. And the only thing that really makes us search for something more real is when one of those anomaly-needles penetrates our perfect system and messes it up.

I'm glad God threw some of those anomalies my way. :)

Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/stuart_spivack/ / CC BY-SA 2.0

Life Outside the Bubble (part 3--Perils, Pitfalls, and Following)

2009-12-04T21:10:00.005-07:00

Part 1
Part 2

I think when I see people inside the Christian culture-bubble respond to those who are outside it, the number one emotion I see is not resentment, or even judgment (though those are certainly factors). Rather, the number one emotion, I think, is fear.

And the fear isn't always over the same thing. For those who are close to us, when we start acting like we're leaving the status quo behind, the fear is over things like deception. These people genuinely care about us, and don't want us to drift away; they just see the world through a lens that no longer works for us. For others, like those in leadership, the fear is often more over the ramifications of what we're doing. If we're leaving the bubble, others might follow us out, and that poses a threat. That's why "leavers" are so often ostracized and classified as dangerous influences, and why our friendships within the institutions so often terminate as soon as we leave.

But specifically, I'm pondering the first fear--the fear of the perils that might befall us. For what it is worth, the bubble for us represents a "safe zone"--a world where things make sense, a place for everything, and everything in its place--that kind of thing. Outside the bubble, there are a lot of unknowns, a lot of unpredictibles, and things don't feel nearly so much under our control. (They never really were in our control, but at least in the bubble we feel like they are.)

But mostly I think this fear comes from the concern that somehow we will drift away from Scripture, and ultimately from God. In essence, the Christian subculture gets equated with a Biblical subculture, and to leave one means to leave the other. Plus, when we leave the bubbles behind, from all accounts it looks like we are leaving behind other things like community and accountability. Almost like we're backsliding.

And you know something? There are some people who have fallen away. There are some who were believers who no longer consider themselves believers, who are now agnostics or atheists. There are those who have embraced alternate theologies like universalism. There are those who have left who have fallen into sin.

No one said leaving the bubble was safe. And if they did--they shouldn't have.

But let me just point out one thing. There are people who fall into sin and heresy inside the bubble also. The Christian subculture is loaded with sinners and heretics--including people who have completely lost their faith but are just faking it for the sake of everyone else. And I've known plenty of people, leaders included, who could spell out their accountability systems on paper but knew how to get around them--so it wasn't really accountability at all.

In short...everything people are afraid will happen outside the bubble, is already happening inside the bubble. So is it that leaving the bubble is really all that dangerous? Or were we in danger the whole time, and just living in blissful ignorance about it? Was the bubble really protecting us? Was it really all that safe?

It seems to me that when we rely on anything other than the person of Jesus Christ to keep us from deception, we are already primed for it. So from one perspective, people who rely on their safety zones to keep them safe are trusting in the wrong thing, and are possibly in far more peril than they even realize. Are we trusting in an omnipotent, loving, heavenly Father, or are we merely trusting in our perception of a safe environment?

My point? It never was the bubble that kept us safe. It was only Jesus--the same Jesus who is not contained by any bubble, and has never been. He didn't call us to create safe spaces where everything makes sense all the time, and everything feels okay. He calls us to follow Him. He doesn't always lead us into safe places; sometimes He even dares to lead us through the valley of the shadow of death. We need not fear evil in that place, however--not because we are "safe" within the pre-set parameters, but because He is with us. His presence is what protects us.

So when I speak of life outside the bubble, I don't mean we have to walk out unprotected and vulnerable. I just think part of this process is learning where our trust should really lay. Some may encounter peril, some may be deceived. But perhaps that's more because their trust lay in the wrong thing anyhow. There is a difference, after all, between being contained in a bubble and being anchored in truth. And being part of a Christian subculture certainly doesn't provide assurances for the next life; real faith has to be rooted in something deeper.

And that brings me to the crux of this whole discussion, in my view. For a vast number of people I know who have found themselves off the beaten paths of the Christian subculture, there is a common thread among them: They prayed a dangerous prayer. The words might vary, but it goes something like this:

"God, there must be more. I want more."
"I want all there is."
"Use me however You want to."
"I want to know the deeper things of God."

Any of those sound familiar? Or maybe you prayed a different variation?

What these prayers boil down to is a heart-cry for something real, something authentic, in the walk of faith. A heart-cry that wants to know the Person of Christ, not just the ropes of the typical Christian life. It seems that people who pray prayers like this quite often find themselves bubble-less--and I personally think it's the answer to those prayers. God removes those areas of false trust, and gives us the opportunity to follow Him in a very real and tangible way.

Because however we worded it--that's exactly what we asked Him for.

It's not safe out here. But He is good.

Life Outside the Bubble (part 2--The Difference)

2009-12-01T20:20:00.003-07:00

In my previous post, I talked about how I used to live deep within the bubble which is the church subculture, and how God burst those bubbles in my life, and how I am now outside the bubble without losing my faith.

So if I'm still a Christian after all this...what's the difference that leaving the bubble has made in my life?

As I reflect on where I am now, and what kind of person this process has shaped me into--especially as I grow more settled in a new palatte for my faith--here are some of the things I see that are different about my life and discipleship:

I am more relaxed, less anal, more able to enjoy life. Mainly I think it's because there's an inherent pressure within the bubble to measure up to the acceptable standards of others in that environment--to keep the unwritten social rules, to keep up the super-Christian mask. With those in ministry, that pressure is multiplied. Life is not perfect outside those parameters, but there's just a lot less baggage to carry around.
I am more comfortable around non-believers. This is a huge thing for me, because despite that constant clarion call within the bubble to "win the lost", I found myself only comfortable within certain circles--and there's really no way, in my view, to influence most people with Christ's love when it's obvious you're afraid of them or uncomfortable around them. When I meet new people, I no longer feel compelled to measure their behavior to determine whether they are "one of us", nor do I feel pressured to arm-twist them into participating in my bubble experience. I'm free to love people, and let Jesus do His work through that, whatever it looks like.
I can interact with the larger body of Christ without having to embrace the extra trappings or re-join the club. What I mean is that I can recognize and embrace the church for what she is; I'm able to discern the organism from the institution, and have meaningful relationships with other believers both inside and outside the institutions. That doesn't mean all believers can handle me; but for those who can, it's cool. :)
I probably shouldn't tell you this, or admit to enjoying it--but I honestly get a kick out of making some Christians squirmy. If we ever do get in a conversation about intitutional Christianity, or I get to share some of my journey, and I say something that makes them uncomfortable...I kind of enjoy it. It might sound like a guilty pleasure, but I guess why I like it is that I know when someone squirms that I've just violated their filters--and that is a sign that maybe they will start re-thinking some stuff they've taken for granted. It sort of gives me hope. (On the other hand--I do not have much patience for religious Christians who smile "knowingly" and start telling me how they agree when I know full well they didn't really hear what I said--and that attitude, perhaps, is my greater sin.)
I have recovered my sense of wonder and the mystery of God. This is probably my favorite thing about life outside the bubble. What most people don't realize is that the bubble is a controlled environment, where everything seems to make sense and/or is easily explained--and that really includes God. In the bubble, most people have a mindset they are comfortable with about who God is, how He acts, and what He does. And if we could really figure God out like that, He wouldn't really be God. Anything we can figure out, we gain ascendency over. I've realized that in that bubble, I had formed God in my own image. I'm so glad to find out He is much greater than I can figure out and imagine. It's revived my faith, so that faith itself is more about learning to trust Him with my unknowns (and watch Him work miracles) and less about working some faith formula to get Him to do something on my behalf.

More to say soon...we're not done here...

Life Outside the Bubble (part 1--God with a Needle)

2009-11-30T08:27:00.006-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a poem for Communitas Collective called "The Bubble." It was symbolic for the subculture bubble that these days we call "church", but in reality is nothing like how the church is described in the Bible. That's not to say people in the bubble aren't necessarily Christians, or part of the church; it's just to say that the bubble itself is not the church. And yet--that's how most Christians identify other Christians: by whether they are in the bubble. Whether they are active partakers of the subculture--whether they know the lingo, have the appearance, hold the proper political views, know who "Beth Moore" and "Philip Yancy" are...that kind of stuff.

Today I'm sort of pondering my life in general, and where I'm at these days, compared to where I used to be. I don't mean Denver as opposed to Oklahoma or Texas. I mean...my whole life used to be the bubble. In fact, I lived in a bubble within the bubble--a sub-subculture. In other words, I wasn't just a typical red-state churchgoer; I was a charismatic one. And even deeper, I was involved in several sub-movements of the charismatic culture, and knew (and spoke) certain code words that identified me as a very specific kind of a Christian; so I guess you could say I was involved in a sub-sub-sub-subculture. My world was several bubbles deep. :)

So in a manner of speaking, the past ten years could almost be defined in my life as God with a needle. It has felt like one by one, He has gone around popping my bubbles. But what's even more interesting is that He didn't do it the way we might envision Him, as this big God up in the heavens popping bubbles until He got to me. No--somehow He popped the bubbles from the inside out, liberating me from the most specific subcultures first, then extending from there.

And when all the bubbles were gone...surprisingly, I didn't fall into the abyss. I didn't lose my faith. I was still a Christ-follower. I just wasn't defined by all the Christianese trappings anymore.

I wish I could tell you everything was a bed of roses out here. But it isn't. I think one reason I'm so tight with my little family is that for a huge period of time we have felt like the only ones of our kind. It is more than just being freed from bubbles. Think about it--when most Christians use the bubble (rather than the Bible) to identify other Christians, and you aren't in the bubble anymore...let's just say I've had pastors question the state of my soul purely on those grounds. Not only that, but when the bubble is your whole world, and it pops, you are left with having to pretty much re-define everything:

If faith isn't what I thought it was--then what is faith? What does it look like?

If my faith isn't defined by theology, what defines it?

If doing A,B, and C aren't really the things that make you a good Christian--what does?

If all the things I thought were important to Jesus, really aren't--then what is?

So no, it's not easy. But after several years of deconstructing, I have to say I'm actually beginning to enjoy the journey a lot more, for a number of reasons. (I'll save those details for part 2.) On one hand, having your bubbles popped really disorients you at first--but at the same time, it creates this open palatte of possibility that you never had before. You no longer have to concern yourself with meeting the protocols of other people to determine the quality of your faith or your discipleship; you're free to go back to the basics. You get to focus more on the Bible than the bubble. (Like that? I keep using that because I like it.)

And because you go back to basics, you also begin to realize that Christians (and by extension, the church) don't have to be shaped according to bubble protocols. In fact--by shedding that mentality, there is a great deal of potential for our faith and practice to remain anchored to the Bible while being shaped in ways that don't alienate the world around us the way the bubble has done.

So despite the difficulties, I'm really thankful that God popped my bubbles (at least in my own mind). And since He popped them from the inside out, it leads me to believe that He was with me even within those bubbles. He was walking in front of me, needle in hand, popping the bubbles one by one as I followed behind.

That's also reassuring--because it reminds me that I didn't come to this place by drifting--I came here by following His lead.

I could keep going, but I'll save something for the next part. :)

A Post-Thanksgiving Not-So-FAQ About My New Life In Denver

2009-11-28T22:25:00.003-07:00

Okay, let me unpack that...this would be a FAQ about my new life in Denver, except nobody is really asking these questions--which means they are actually Not-So-Frequently-Asked-Questions. And this is after Thanksgiving...hence the name.

Why are you writing a Not-So-FAQ?
Because these are questions people would ask if they thought of them.

How are you liking Denver?
Lovin' it.

How do you like your flat?
It's awesome. My favorite apartment ever.

Even though it's less than half the square footage of where you used to live?
Even though.

Why do you like it?
It's cozy. Plus we are right in this little neighborhood where we can walk to everything. And we get lots of sunshine in the windows and building heat, so we don't have to use the heater hardly at all.

Even with the cold in Denver?
Yep.

Is there a railroad track behind your building?
Yes.

And do trains use it?
Of course.

Doesn't that bug you, with all that noise?
Not really. We hardly hear it. It's kind of cool, actually. Really old-towny.

Is there a really cool little theater across the street that you can walk to?
Yes.

Can you see the mountains from your balcony?
Yes, if you crane your neck and look to the right.

Can you see downtown Denver from your balcony?
Yes...if you look left, and sort of look around that building there.

Can I camp out at your place for free when I come up there to go skiing?
Nope. No room. Cheapskate. Get a hotel room like everyone else.

Do you miss Tulsa?
What's a Tulsa?

Don't you miss anything about Tulsa?
Friends and family. A certain flower shop. And Q.T.

How can you handle Denver with all that snow and cold stuff?
You just keep on thinkin' that. Denver is getting too crowded.

Checking In

2009-11-27T09:37:00.002-07:00

Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving!

I might be a little sparse here over the holiday weekend. Gonna chop down a tree, get ready for a special advent worship time on Sunday, spend time with family, and maybe catch up on some paid writing assignments.

Of course, now that I say this, I'll probably post here every day this weekend. :) But it will probably be fun, useless type stuff, if it happens.

Can Yuo Raed Thsi?

2009-11-24T16:00:00.000-07:00

I haerd smoethnig a copule of yaers ago. I hared thta if yuo mxi up teh ltteers of aech wrod or eevn mispel smoe of thme, peeopl cna stlil raed it. Yuo jsut need to kepe teh frist adn lsat lerttes of each wrod crorect whneever psosible. Our brians aer supopsed to be albe to firgue out teh rset.

So yuo dnot reely nede to wrory if yuo cnat spel. Yoo jsut nede to get teh frist and lsat lteres rihgt, adn yuo haev it maed.

So...did it wrok? Wree yuo albe to raed tihs?

Thsi psot took too lnog to wriet. It's dfificlut to delbrieritelely mispel wrods. Nxet tiem I wlil do it the rihgt wya.

Wehw!

Billy Jo Daugherty: 1952-2009

2009-11-23T08:23:00.004-07:00

Billy Jo Daugherty, pastor of Victory Christian Center in Tulsa (one of Tulsa's "big three" mega-churhes) passed away Sunday from lymph cancer at the age of 57.

I only got word of his illness a few weeks ago. I don't think anyone actually knew for very long. Most of my information was received word-of-mouth, so I can't verify the accuracy of this...but what I heard was that he went to the hospital for throat issues, and they discovered the cancer. By the time they found it, it was apparently quite advanced. I am sobered and saddened to hear of his death.

Those who read this blog regularly might wonder why I'd eulogize a mega-church pastor on it. There are two reasons, really. First--I have a loved one who is a lymphoma survivor. It was detected at stage one because it created a mass in an unrelated part of the body; otherwise there were no symptoms. It was as if the mass was a divine warning, so I'm thankful something happened to dectect it...because so often (like with Billy Jo), it isn't detected until it becomes a real threat. My loved one has been cancer-free for nearly 6 years. All that to say--I can relate to the shock and trauma the family must be going through, simply because although that cancer had likely been there for years, in their hearts and minds this is a relatively new development.

Second...although Billy Jo Daugherty's mega-church is the polar opposite of what I'm about here...we all have a history. We all have roots. And Billy Jo is part of mine. He was my pastor for a time while I was in college, and his messages ministered to me where I was. I never knew him at any time to act in rudeness or arrogance, or to speak ill of anyone. I met him on a couple of occasions; my impression was that he was as close to "normal" as anyone in that position could be--no celebrity persona, or superior attitude that I saw in others like him. As my path took me away from most of the elements of church he readily promoted, there was less and less I could agree with him about; but I believe that he genuinely did his best to live out the truth as he saw it. And for that, and for the ways he allowed God to use him, he deserves only respect.

Many will sing his praises and list his accolades over the coming days and weeks--all the great things he did for God. I can't join in that cacophany--not because I can't acknowledge it, but simply because I've come to realize that what God considers good fruit is often very different from what we think. When we all one day view the books of our lives, I think we will be shocked (dismayed?) at how many things we did that we thought were awesome that in God's economy are of no account at all; and we will also be pleasantly surprised at how many seemingly insignificant things we did actually changed the world. I imagine that Billy Jo Daugherty has experienced both by this time, and knows the true impacts of what he did, or did not, do. Either way, he is at rest in the arms of his Father. And he is no longer ill.

And so I honor Billy Jo's memory today, not for all the Bible schools he built, nor for all the people he helped train for ministry, nor for the astounding amount of money his church has given to missions. And honestly, I can't even honor him for his flawless character, because I was never close enough to him to know how "flawless" it was. Rather, the honor I feel toward him is because for a time while I was still being formed, his unassuming sense of humility set an example for me that I never forgot, and he spoke words that gave me direction when I was drifting. He was my pastor, in whatever sense I understood that idea at the time; and for that moment of my history, Billy Jo Daugherty displayed the nature of Christ to me, and it made a lasting positive impact on my life. I think those are the things that really matter. Anyone with organizational skills and fundraising abilities can build a school. Where lives get changed is in the day to day of allowing Christ's love to emanate from us. Christ loved me through Billy Jo Daugherty, even from a distance, and it made a difference in my life. And for that, I am forever grateful.

May Jesus comfort his family and his flock, and give them peace and direction for the future.

Self-Interest, Kingdom of God, and The Great Dilemma

2009-11-21T16:06:00.004-07:00

So I've been pondering lately about the dilemma I faced while still operating as part of the institutional systems of church, the dilemma that so many well-meaning church leaders face today.

The dilemma is this: we like to see ourselves, and our local church, as part of the larger Body of Christ, recognizing that we are only a part of THE church. And yet, because of the nature of sustaining an institution, most of the decisions the leader(s) must make have to do with the growing of "our" church rather than building "the" church.

Functioning as an institutional leader, I genuinely had a heart for the greater church, and wanted to see my little piece as part of the bigger picture. I even tried to make decisions that had the larger church in view. However, I know deep inside I would never have made a choice that favored the greater Body of Christ (or another congregation) at the expense of my local church. So in reality, my local group had to come first, not the greater cause of Christ--because otherwise, how was my family going to eat? See the dilemma? :)

Some pastors, admittedly, don't really see this as a dilemma. They feel that growing their local church and building the Body of Christ are one and the same--that somehow God has destined their particular entity for greatness, and in throwing their all into building a mega-ministry, they are doing the Kingdom of God a great service. The test of their true loyalty would be if they were forced to make a choice between doing harm to other local congregations or Christians in their area, or allowing their own church to suffer loss. Would they be willing to do damage to another ministry to preserve their own?

Don't be fooled; pastors and other ministers are faced with this all the time. You can guess the choice they make most of the time. When the local entity becomes the main priority, it is nearly impossible for interests not to conflict, even among well-meaning pastors. It is inevitable that one local church will benefit at another's expense. Some will prosper, and others will suffer--because the truth is, we don't have the interests at of the Greater Kingdom of God at heart. We have our own interests at heart, and we're calling it the Kingdom to make ourselves feel better about it.

I don't mind telling you that several times in the history of pastoring a tiny congregation, we found ourselves on the suffering end of such shenanigans. (I don't know if I was ever on the other end of things--I never thought we got big enough to ever have been a threat to another local group.) Once or twice, a mega-church pastor who knew who we were actively tried to recruit one of our members to leave our group and join his. Another time, a woman who had her own ministry had linked arms with us for a project we were working on; and in a moment when another church leader expressed offense with us, she made a deliberate political decision to turn on us and cozy up to that leader, because she feared associating with us would hinder her from being able to recruit people to her own gig. All this, while she continued to claim to have a heart for church unity!

I don't blame these people, honestly. I mean, I don't have the right to blame them. Because if I had been in their shoes--that is, if I'd had that much to lose--I'd probably have done the same things they did.

And that's just the point. The reason I am skeptical of the institutional forms of our faith is that when we have to hold up our own institutions, we have too much to lose. We mistakenly believe that doing political crap like this to protect our particular entity is equal to defending the Kingdom, and that it is somehow our solemn responsibility to protect our turf, and our "people".

At least, this is what we tell ourselves. What we're really doing, most of the time, is protecting our bank accounts. Because far more often than not, these decisions are business decisions, not kingdom ones. Not trying to be jaded here, just calling a spade a spade. It's about money, more than anyone wants to admit.

I guess what I'm saying in this rant is that there has to be a better way for us to be shaped--one that doesn't automatically put our immediate interests at odds with those of other church groups, or the greater Kingdom of God. And for that matter--where did we even get the idea that furthering the Kingdom of God on earth wouldn't require some self-sacrifice and even suffering? (Wasn't that what the cross of Christ was all about?) Institutions or no institutions--at what point did we think it was okay to become this self-serving?

There are some pastors and leaders who have purposely deconstructed, re-organized, or even dismantled their institutions because they were of the conviction that such a move was in the better interests of the cause of Christ for that time. For such people, I have an incredible amount of respect. For me--I guess I'm just glad I'm no longer faced with the Great Dilemma. I'm like most of you, in that I don't particularly enjoy suffering. (That's why they call it suffering, folks--if you like it, you probably need to talk to someone.) However, if I am ever called upon to make a choice for the furthering of God's kingdom, knowing that I will suffer loss for that choice...I hope that I will have the strength to make that choice.

Because that's how Christ did it for you and me.

Closing the Last Chapter

2009-11-19T10:26:00.003-07:00

I haven't posted for a few days because I've been working mainly on this post...and this is likely to be one of the most vulnerable, personal posts I've ever put on this blog. So be nice. :)

A couple of weeks ago, The Wild One and I started having a conversation about this transitional place we are in, trying to get settled in Denver, and the challenges we're dealing with. And she made the observation that I had grown increasingly negative in my outlook over time, tending only to see the glass half-empty. It wasn't a mean-spirited conversation at all; but she said it partly because she wanted to understand what was behind it, and partly because in our situation, we really need a positive, can-do attitude, and my pessimism was making it difficult for her to keep her own spirits up. A fair assessment.

I grappled with this for days afterward, not because I was defensive over it--in fact, I saw right away that she was telling the truth--but because I myself didn't fully understand why I had become so negative. That just really isn't me; I'm the encourager in our family, the guy who always says, "Everything's going to be alright" even when I haven't got the slightest idea how things are going to work out. And I've been right. :) Got has been faithful to us through every trial.

But somewhere through the trials of the past ten years, something got broken inside. I knew it was so, but I couldn't quite pinpoint just when it happened, or why. I just knew that even after things improved for us and we were given rest from our struggles, I still kept one eye open, looking for the other shoe to drop. Even through this transition to Denver, while I had enough understanding to try to have hope for the future, I still have had this I'll-believe-it-when-I-see-it attidude. And that just isn't the me I've grown up with. That's the broken me.

The Wild One was right; until I found a way to reconcile this, I wasn't going to fully embrace this new season we're in. So I soul-searched.

I don't want to spend a lot of time diving back into the past here, and a lot of my readers already know my story; but the past ten years in Tulsa were very difficult for us. God had His own purposes in sending us there, and we did our best to obey to the last. But there was such a resistance in that place that almost nothing we tried worked. The only place where we felt any kind of success was in the house church we led, and eventually that just ran its course. Over that time, we dealt with complacency from people in general; resistance and even hostility from other church leadership; and occasionally betrayal and sabotage from within our own community. (The pastors and former pastors reading this are nodding their heads right now--that part's not really anything new.) But on a deep emotional level, it did something to me.

As the conversation continued over the next couple of days, I talked a lot about the doubts I had, how so many things we had believed God for had failed, how many things didn't work out the way we'd thought, all the disappointments. I explained that I was negative because I just didn't want to get disappointed again. But all that talk seemed shallow, like I wasn't really getting to the root cause. And at some point in the conversation--I don't remember how, exactly--one of us said something that opened the floodgates for me. And I knew in that moment what it was.

The root of my negativity wasn't failure. Everyone fails. The root was...rejection.

I don't intend this to sound narcissistic, only serving as an explanation...but at every other place in my life, I'd had the experience of my gifts making room for me, bringing me favor, and opening doors. In the previous season in Texas, before we came to Tulsa, we'd seen six years of favor and growth, and were gaining recognition even on a state level with worship music. I've surmised that had I stayed on that path, I would probably have landed a record deal as a worship leader. When we came to Tulsa...that all fell flat, almost inexplicably. The only time anyone showed interest in my gifts were when they wanted to exploit them to serve their own agendas. Everything was political, and for conscience' sake I just couldn't play ball. I already knew too much. And so...instead of my gifts being seen as an asset to kingdom purposes among the spiritual leadership in Tulsa, they were viewed--and I was treated--as a threat. And that spoke a message deep into my soul. And eventually I believed it.

The message went something like this: You are worthless. You are unwanted. Nobody wants whatever it is you think you have to offer. You are nothing, and you have nothing. You have no value, and neither do your gifts.

It wasn't the resistance itself, or the message that was sent; it was that somewhere along the way, I began to believe the message. I believed I had no worth, that my talents and skills had no worth. I believed that whatever happened, or didn't happen, must somehow be my fault. And so I believed that no one else would appreciate whatever I had to offer--and if they showed any appreciation, it was likely because they had some hidden angle.

Yeah. Talk about negative.

And so even in recent days, in a different place, when someone would speak encouragement to me, or show appreciation--even if I thought they were genuine--I would smile and thank them for their kindness. But I wouldn't believe them. I was worthless. My gifts were worthless. That was my truth.

All the reality of this came pouring out of my soul in that moment of grief a couple of weeks ago, when the floodgates opened. I realized I had never even allowed myself to grieve the loss of the past season. And so I mourned. I mourned over feeling utterly unwanted. I mourned over what could have been, that would never be, in Tulsa. I mourned over the sense of abandonment and neglect, the fact that I had come to Tulsa with such hope and love in my heart for the church, only to be scorned--to be all but told that no one wanted what I had to offer. I let myself grieve the loss. And I also recognized truth in that moment:

It was true that I had been rejected; it was not true that I was unacceptable, or worthless.

It was true that my gifts had been despised; it was not true that my gifts were worthless.

It was true that I had made mistakes; it was not true that the failures were all my fault.

It was true that I was mistreated; it was not true that I deserved it.

And as I acknowleged truth in my soul, in that moment of grief, something changed again, deep within.

And now I'm all better! Praise God!

Sorry...couldn't resist putting my tongue in my cheek for a moment. :) But something really did change inside. It was a seed of something good, something healing, a root that is spreading within me, and giving me fresh hope. It's making me believe something different about myself, and it's making me actually believe that things can be different here. That it can be better. That we really can do what we love, and that it's okay. All the things we came here to do...we can do them. And we can do something that makes a difference.

Hope.

The Wild One tells me my outlook has significantly improved since that moment. I just couldn't dive into this next chapter of life with both feet...until I had closed the last chapter.

I know it will take time. But I am a step or two closer to recovering the person I used to know.

The Bubble (excerpt)

2009-11-16T07:42:00.003-07:00

From my recent post at Communitas Collective. (Go check the new site...lots of updates!)

I lived inside a bubble long ago

Where all inside was safe and sterilized

With all the evils of the great unknown

Conveniently ignored and hid from view

And others lived within the bubble, too

And we enjoyed the bliss of ignorance

Our bubble-world, to us utopia

Protecting us from chance and circumstance

And everything made sense within the walls

A micro-world, with everything controlled

Unanswered questions gnawing at our souls

Could easily be shoved beyond the veil

(There's more...read the rest here...)

A Few Moments of Quiet

2009-11-15T07:55:00.003-07:00

So it's Sunday morning, and while you are probably asleep, I am up even earlier than usual. I was prepared to drive through the snowstorm to the gathering where I lead worship. Got a call--it's cancelled.

Just snowy enough to cancel my commitments; not quite snowy enough to stop me from walking down to my favorite blogging spot. :) Can't beat that with a stick. So here I am, blogging away for your indifferent disinterest reading pleasure.

It's been a mixed bag these days for me and mine. We're so glad to be here in Denver, love the wonder of a new climate, love the beauty of the surroundings, love the pace of life, and love the relationships we're forming. But we're also in the nitty-gritty of trying to earn our keep and pay the bills in the day to day, while trying to look ahead and build a foundation for the future--not just survive. The pressures of the immediate can be overwhelming at times, and it's a discipline for us to keep perspective in those moments.

But that's what we came here for. Fresh perspective.

I don't want to sound either new-agey or midlife-crisis-ey here...but it's like, especially in the last season, we spent so much time and energy trying to survive moment to moment that we lost perspective and stopped living life, embracing the moment in the now. "Living life" was pushed into some unknown date in the future, some day that would just magically come if we just trudged through enough crap and didn't give up.

Looking back, I think we got the not-giving-up part right. What we were missing was that life wasn't in the future when all our circumstances turned rosy. Life is now. It always is. And too many of us get caught in the cycle of survival, noses to the grindstone, where we stop living and start just existing. And we miss the moments, because we think life is over the next hill, past the next obstacle...never stopping to realize that life is now--even the difficult moments we live through are part of our story, part of our adventure.

I know a lot of folks didn't care much for the movie Revolutionary Road because it was such a sad, tragic tale. But for me, it spoke volumes. I could see in the lives of the characters the classic dilemma we face in our rat-race world, where it seems we must choose between doing what's needed to survive and live a "normal" life (whatever that is) and pursuing our passions--those things, those dreams that makes us want to live. Never was the choice so plain as with the couple in the movie, and their decision to stay within the lines literally cost them everything. It reinforced to me what I had already been grappling with deep inside, and I came away going, "Man--I do not want to be those people."

Maybe I'm just a dreamer, but I can't shake the conviction that we aren't put here on this planet just to find a way to muddle through, and I reject the notion that we have to choose between living and existing. I want to do those things that make me live inside (that is, pursue my God-given passions)...AND I want to pay the bills. In short--I want it all. That's not asking too much, now is it? :)

And so I think we're looking at all these things through a new set of eyes these days, always asking ourselves what solutions to the everyday challenges will lay groundwork for the future, not just get us by--and not forgetting to live these moments along the way.

I think it's best said in a lyric fragment I came up with--which will likely turn into a song (so don't steal it):

I can't change the past
And I can't see the future
But I don't want to miss what happens in between

Happy Sunday.

The Beer We'll Drink in Heaven...I Guess

2009-11-10T19:41:00.005-07:00

So tonight, a new pub/restaurant that's opening up just across the street had an open house and invited the neighborhood to come have free food and drinks before their grand opening tomorrow. So we walked the two minutes into town to check it out. And besides the free food that kept coming out of the kitchen, they offered free stuff from the bar. And they had the beer in the picture on draft.

I remembered how in his book Exiles, Michael Frost tells the story of how Arthur Guinness developed Guinness Beer. And in the book he says, "It's the beer we'll drink in heaven." So since it was free...I tried it.

After all, if we're drinking this beer in heaven, I figure I'd better get used to it.

I tried to like it. I really did. I told myself I was a manly man for drinking half a glass of it.

But when I drank it, I didn't think of heaven. All I could think of was the other place.

So in heaven, I guess I'll be drinking at the kiddie table. I hope they have Coca- Cola.

Who Does She Think She Is?

2009-11-09T08:24:00.003-07:00

Yesterday afternoon, blogger friend Kathy invited some folks over to her house to watch a movie and discuss it, and the family and I went. We can do that now, being that we now live near her. :)

The movie was called Who Does She Think She Is?, a documentary about women in the arts, their struggles to find their voice, the obstacles they face--and the price they often pay for their choices. (No--I was not the only man in attendance.) The movie made was by the same people who made the Oscar-winning film Born into Brothels.

As a bit of disclaimer, in case you ever view the film, it is not from a Christian perspective. There is a lot of stuff in there about goddess worship, and a slanted historical perspective on religion in general; but there is also a lot of good information, and the stories and emotions that are captured on film are real. Also, one of the artists featured in the documentary was a pastor's wife with a Christian background. So as one of my former pastors used to say, "Eat the grass, and spit out the sticks." :)

That said--the movie obviously got me thinking again about the way our culture (and indeed many cultures throughout history) have suppressed women. I've talked a lot here about how the church has fallen into step with this mentality by the mis-contextualization of a few Scriptures, and I won't rehash that argument here. Today, I'm thinking about the bigger picture, about the plight of women in general, and about how difficult it has been, and still is, for them to find a voice--and how this effectively cripples us as a race of beings from being all we could be.

One eye-opening fact the film brought out through the stories of the featured artists is that in the artistic community, men still have the power and the dominant voice. Of all the art featured in museums, the number of pieces created by women generally total less than ten percent. Far less, actually. Yet over 80 percent of the people currently studying art as a profession are...female! It does not take a lot of number crunching to see the inconsistency, or to figure out that the vast majority of art being created is never being seen or appreciated by the wider public. As difficult as it is for a male artist to gain visibility--for females, the obstacles are multiplied by a factor of ten. And they are the ones currently producing the most art!

I suppose these statistics hit home to me because as a musician, I'm an artist myself, and I know the challenges that exist for artists in general to be able to make a living at their art. In a culture where women are given more and more opportunity, I was astounded to learn how unbalanced the creative culture still is against them. And that doesn't even begin to speak to the hits women artists take on the social level, when it comes to balancing marriage and family duties, etc.

My mind had already been on this a little bit, and the movie simply injected some adrenaline into it. One of my current writing projects involves researching famous classical composers, which I'm enjoying because it's rekindling memories from my college studies of music history. At one point my editor--a female--suggested adding a few women composers to the list. I was delighted and ashamed in the same moment--because I realized I couldn't think of any female composers. Correction--I knew of Clara Schumann, and no others. As a music major in college, with all my studies of music over the years--only one female composer came to mind. I even had it in my head that there were no female composers at that time--the social mores of the day would simply have prevented it.

But it only took a few mouse clicks and a quick Internet search to discover how wrong I was. I dare you to look at this list on Wikipedia and try counting the names of women composers on the list. I had to stop after 170 because I found myself suddenly cross eyed, and I wasn't even halfway through the list. Hundreds and hundreds of females who studied and wrote music, most of whose names I had never heard. The list grows exponentially longer beginning in the 1700s, and the 20th century is packed with them--but I don't believe women just started writing more music at that time. Their names just weren't on the record. The implications of this are absolutely staggering--potentially thousands of women through the centuries who were creating music worthy of their male counterparts, whose music, and names, are not even remembered.

Just because they were women. And because as women, their contributions were largely deemed unimportant.

And although there are more and more women composers being recognized today--I still have to say I don't know most of their names, either. So although they are at least being documented, most of their music is still unknown, even in the artistic community. They can create, but they still have little or no voice. (The Director has even recognized this trend in his field of interest--the number of female movie directors has, in fact, shrunk in the past 10 years.)

I say all this simply to say...we still have a problem. Men who believe we've settled the women equality issue are simply deceiving themselves. These are people whom God has gifted every bit as much as we--and it's not just about painting or composition. These statistics are simply symptoms of a greater problem.

In the past few months, it has become a passion of mine, not only to be a male ally and advocate for restoring the voice of women, but to urge other men to do the same. I cannot stress this enough: when the brainpower and creativity of over 50 percent of the human race is disqualified over an unrelated issue such as gender, the entire race suffers. We sell ourselves short when we pass over our sisters--it's just that simple.

It's time we men stop merely gaining inspiration from the female body, and start drawing some from the female mind, and the female soul.

In my view, Who Does She Think She Is? is not just a film to empower women. It is a film men need to see, hearing the message with an open heart. I challenge men to take 90 minutes to watch the movie--and then take a few minutes to look in the mirror.

Zombie Christians

2009-11-06T15:45:00.000-07:00

I suppose this post would have been more timely last weekend.... :)

Have you ever noticed, those of you with a church background (particularly of the more charismatic type), that there is often a vibe in church that our minds are an obstacle to receiving from God? Most of the time it's subtle; other times, not so subtle. But the underlying premise is that we receive from God by the Spirit in ways that our natural minds cannot understand, and that if we try to discern with our minds, it will become a stumbling block to us. You can pick up this vibe in the way things are worded--when we are encouraged in some way to "bypass our minds" when God is manifesting His presence in some way, or when we are trying to get hold of some revelation, or when we are praying in tongues (again, for you charismatic folk).

I was programmed most of my life with this idea, and like most imbalances in church, it has a nugget of truth in it. I do believe that there is much about an infinite God that our finite minds couldn't possibly comprehend--that our reasoning is often flawed and incomplete when trying to figure God out. I know of atheists who actually want to believe in God, but simply can't get around the logic in their minds. So yes, our mind can get in the way. But we take it a bit farther and we act as though our mind is an enemy to receiving from God. I've been in meetings where people are almost encouraged to try to turn off their brains so they can better receive from God.

Yep. I'm not kidding.

Where I think this can be even more dangerous is in the manipulations and spiritual abuse (see Kathy's recent post) that often occur in churches, where the members are discouraged from questioning the doctrine of the church or the judgment of the leadership. Again--turn off our minds, be good little sheep, and just follow. Anyone who questions is often presumed divisive, when actually that person is probably just trying to understand.

But here are some things I realize:

God created our minds for a reason. He made us intelligent beings on purpose, with both the capacity for reason and the freedom to choose. Yes, our minds can be turned into an obstacle; but so can just about anything else. Why would He want us to turn our brains off?
In my experience, whenever I sense God speaking to me or revealing something to me...it comes to me as a thought in my mind. It may have its source in the spirit realm, but it translates to my brain. If that's the conduit by which I receive--what would be the point of bypassing it?

I guess what I'm saying is that we're overthinking this thinking thing. :)

So what about when our minds do get in the way--when we stumble over the things of God when we can't figure them out? I believe this is not the time to "bypass the mind" so the "spirit" can take over; there's a difference between soul and spirit, but we focus too much on which is which, when sometimes there's a better way.

I believe that when our minds get hung up on the details, that's where faith comes in. Faith is trusting in God when it doesn't make sense; that's what faith is for! To me, faith is when I go, "Okay, God, I don't get this, but I trust You anyway. If you say it's so, I'm willing to take You at Your word." It's not about becoming some sort of Zombie Christians just being dragged around by the Holy Spirit or something; it's about letting faith take over when our reasoning falls short. That, I believe, is a lot better than trying to "get around" our minds; instead of trying to do that, we should be subjecting our minds to the lordship of Christ by faith, allowing Him to guide our reason. Not bypass it.

God has no use for Zombie Christians. Only submitted ones. Just sayin'. :)

On How We Ought Not to Just Talk About the Bad Stuff, and Start Doing Something Different

2009-11-02T19:57:00.003-07:00

Conversations from both here and over at Communitas Collective have got my mind running, so thought I'd better jot these thoughts down before I forget. :)

My blogger friend Kansas Bob, and newer blogger friend Al, together sort of made the point that it is not really enough for those of us disenfranchised folk to just point out the stuff that's wrong with institutional forms of church...that we need to live out the positive effects of change in our lives. I truly agree with this, and I think it's important to process that idea, to embrace the truth of it more than just verbally assent to it.

I have a few thoughts on this, and in setting them down here, I hope it does not come off as a defense of my own blog. Rather, it's me taking a bit of mental inventory, to see whether there is a balance between confronting what is wrong and seeking out what is right. So in no particular order, here are some of the thoughts that are coming to mind:

It is important not to shrink back from discussing what is wrong with the way we "do church" even when it makes people uncomfortable. Many Christians do not consider anything to be wrong with the church as we have made it; others have a gut feeling that something is amok, but feel alone in their convictions. Talking about these things is important because first of all, how can we find a better way if we don't first admit our way isn't working? And second...it does help us to know we aren't the only ones seeing it. That said--this is sort of like a grieving process, dealing with a death of sorts, and different ones of us are in different stages--denial, anger, bargaining, and acceptance. Those further along the process are more ready to discuss positive alternatives and aren't going to want to keep talking about the negatives. (In fact, I'm rapidly coming to that place myself.) But I have also seen that by continuing to bring up these issues, I've had several rounds of new visitors in the past 2 years who are just coming into that process and are greatly relating to what is being said. I think it's important to allow these people the same chance to process things by reading the blog as I have had by writing it.
If all we do is talk about the negatives, the process will remain incomplete. Exposing what is wrong with the church is not the solution in itself--it is only the warning alarm. If there's a wrong way to do something, then there is a right way, also--usually more than one right way. Part of our personal process has to be a willingness to seek out those better ways, and then live in the truth of those ways. On this blog, you can usually identify this part of the process when I start asking "what if?" That's me dreaming about what a better way might look like. (This conviction has also been a huge part of our recent move to Denver--an attempt to put feet to what we have learned and what we are dreaming about.)
Admittedly, the negatives I discuss are usually specific, and the positive alternatives are usually vague. There's a very good reason for this. The things that are wrong are entrenched in our church systems, and we have a tangible experience with them--so it's understandable that we talk about them in detail. They are the past, the part of this that is 20/20. It's the part we know. The positive alternatives--not so much. They are the future, the part we don't see as clearly. Plus, in coming out of a system filled with religious absolutes, the last thing we want to do is create another set of religious absolutes by claiming "THIS is the way it should be done." Whatever the better way is, we each need to own that revelation and that journey as God leads us. So when I talk about a better way to do something, I usually make it very personal--"this is what is working for me these days." And I usually let people fill in the details, because it is still a process that needs flexibility.
This cannot be overstated: Any community that is based on a mutual dislike of someone or something else is not healthy and will not last for long--and that includes online community. I have never intended this to be a "church bashing" blog, and if it has come off that way to more than a few readers, then I'm sorry for the miscommunication. I would hope that any community that forms around this conversation (which is certainly not limited to this blog) is not based on a distaste for what has been, but a mutual desire to find something better. And ultimately the glue that binds the church together is Christ alone. A lot of the processing done here is about stripping off the extraneous, unnecessary stuff of our faith, to get back to Christ as center--the heart of all that matters about the church. That's the goal, anyway--even if we sometimes fall short of it.

What Is More Important...

2009-11-02T07:58:00.002-07:00

My recent contribution to Communitas Collective. It's short, so just go read it. :)

Pondering a Deconstructed Spirituality

2009-10-31T08:09:00.005-06:00

Not too long ago, I posted a question: "What is 'spiritual'?" Thanks for your answers.

I continue to ponder this line of thinking a bit. When I wrote about how I'm doing, I talked mainly about specifics relating to our transition to Denver from Tulsa, and getting our feet under us. But I've also been thinking about where I'm at from a spiritual perspective, and where my spiritual journey away from "church-as usual" has taken me thus far.

I think the worship leading thing--being in regular contact with an institutional church group again--has got me thinking about this; because when you're out of the "loop" for awhile, you almost forget what your journey looked like in a different context. Rubbing shoulders again with folks with the institutional church paradigm, I see a bit of myself in them, and I remember the lens through which I used to view my faith in Christ, and how it played out in my activities and behavior.

As a complement to the good folks I'm worshiping with...overall, they are among the least "churchy" churchgoers I've seen that still meet in an institutional setting--and they're not even trying to be "emergent". :) By this I mean they are just kind of normal people--not a lot of uber-religious types among them, not a lot of Christianese jargon going around; they ask how you're doing, they talk about life, sports--just regular, relaxed stuff. And for the most part, they seem to be connecting with God within this format--and that's the priority, as far as I'm concerned.

But having seen the institutional paradigm both from within and without...I realize it comes with its own set of filters, its particular way of looking at spiritual life. It sets up certain priorities above others as to what healthy spiritual living looks like. And in principle, those priorities are not all bad--many are honest attempts to be Biblical and promote Christlikeness. And this is forcing me to ask some questions that, when I was away from this culture, I could kind of keep on the shelf.

Let's get specific. The typical church paradigm for healthy Christianity involves what we consider to be spiritual disciplines. Worship. Scripture study and meditation. Reflection. Prayer. Fasting, even. [shudder] (There are other spiritual disciplines too, that many churches ignore--social justice issues, serving the poor and afflicted, etc.--but that's a different post. For now, I'm talking primarily about those values we see as vertical more than horizontal, if you get my meaning.)

The thing is--these disciplines are legitimate. No matter how "deconstructed" we get, we can't write these out of the Scriptures; and if we're following Christ, these are values we mustn't dispense with. And yet, admittedly, during this extended period of detoxing, I feel like I've gotten pretty relaxed about a lot of this stuff. And I think I've needed to, honestly, and I have continued to feel God's presence with me in the process. But being near a culture where these values are urged and promoted again, and recognizing their importance...I am challenged again as to what role things like prayer and study should play in my relationship with God.

As I said--I know why I've had a bit of an aversion to pressing myself to read my Bible and pray. Even while I while I acknowledge their importance, I push back against them on the inside. And here's why: I have never known these things to be done without some form of religion attached to them. I've only known how to pray religiously, to study religiously, to fast religiously. I love Jesus; I loathe religion. I've had to take a break from being "disciplined" about these disciplines because the religion I walked in was so toxic. And I simply can't abide the idea of going back to it.

In other words--sadly, I don't perceive prayer as much of a spiritual discipline. I still perceive it as a religious duty. Even after all this time. I know in my mind it isn't true; but in my heart it is still the "truth" I live out. I do pray, and read my Bible. I do talk to God. And I certainly value the truth of the Scripture that I have hid in my heart. But I'm still in that place of figuring out how to do it without the religious implications--how to read my Bible because I'm hungry for God's words to me, rather than out of guilt for not having done so. And so there is this dilemma--knowing how important these things are, but not knowing how to do them without falling back into a religious mindset. Like religion has ruined these things for me. It truly is sad, isn't it? Do you feel sorry for me? :)

At this point, quite often, there is some well-meaning Christian who wants to tell me to read a certain book, or listen to a certain teacher to clarify it for me. Please don't. That isn't going to be helpful. The last thing I need right now is to hear from someone who thinks they have it figured out--even if what they might say is legitimate. Whatever resolution comes of this--and I'm confident there will be a resolution--I have to own it for myself. And for that matter, so do you. The reason I even get this vulnerable about it is that I know that I can't be the only one who feels these things, and sometimes it helps at least to know you're not nuts for feeling them, that others are going through a similar dilemma.

And so, I actually think this is a healthy stage of the journey for me. I know I can't go back to how I was, and I know I can't throw out things like prayer, nor will I. So I am pondering what a deconstructed spirituality looks like--how it fleshes out to integrate these elements into your life without the religion hanging onto them. It simply has to be possible.

And for me, this is where the conversation about what "spiritual" means comes into play. Because as some of you said, and I agree--everything, potentially, is spiritual for the one whose life is lived unto God. Spirituality isn't something we turn on and off. We are spiritual beings by nature. As far as I know how, I am trying to live in the truth of this. Prayer isn't a "time" for me; it's an ongoing conversation with God as I walk through the day. Doesn't that count? Sure it does. And even if I don't crack open my Bible at 8:00 AM every day, doesn't it count when I recall His word in my mind and heart, weighing it against my everyday decisions and actions? Sure it does.

Honestly, these are the ways it means something to me. There was a time when my prayer time was carefully guarded, and I'd come out of that prayer closet and act like an ungodly moron--but at least I could say I prayed and read my Bible. These days, I'm more concerned about acting like Jesus outside the prayer closet than I am about whether I happened to visit the prayer closet that day. Isn't that where spirituality really counts--in our everydays?

Sure it is. :)

I sure don't claim to have this figured out yet. But maybe I am closer than I think.

We Interrupt this Blog on Account of Weather...

2009-10-28T22:22:00.005-06:00

Well, I wanted snow...

The Wild One took this picture within the past hour; this is Olde Town Arvada, just up the steps and across the railroad tracks from our flat.

It started snowing last night--and hasn't stopped since. Denver metro has gotten about 12 inches so far. We're about 10 minutes northwest of downtown Denver, and we have at least 18 inches on the ground.

Let's just say we're having to get a bit creative with taking the dog to his, er, "spot." Can't say I blame him...if the snow was coming up to MY chin, I wouldn't want to go outside, either.

AAAAnnnd...the news weather people tell us these totals could easily double by tomorrow night!

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.