It’s Not that Cool to Be Anti-Church

Nowadays, the coolest Christians are the ones who want nothing to do with church.  It’s all the rage to be anti-church.  But lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s not that cool to be anti-church.

I recently had a conversation with a close friend about our self-imposed exiles from church.  We each have had a hard time finding a church that fits. We each have beef with the church. We are progressive Christians that value a multiplicity of Jesus-loving expressions.  Maybe one would expect us to get high off an anti-church dialogue. To ping back and forth about its many flaws. To pride ourselves in living above the church fray.

In reality, we lament.  We long. We miss. For both us, the church has been a cornerstone in our identity formation. The church has been an essential ingredient for constructing loving community at various times in life.  Being anti-church means dismissing how enriched we feel after singing heart-wrenching songs in a sanctuary full of people. That stuff matters. I’m not saying that church is the only means to construct community. We are more creative than that. I’m not saying that we absolutely cannot do without the good things church offers. I’m saying let’s not pretend that we have not benefitted from or enjoyed church. That’s not cool.

Mark Driscoll on Yoga and MMA…WTF?

Over the last few days, I have read two lengthy articles by Pastor Mark Driscoll of Mars Hill in Seattle. One article was about yoga and the other about MMA fighting (both accessible on his website).  Essentially, Driscoll is addressing the question of Christian participation (whether actively or as spectator) in these two activities.

And all of it was ridiculous.

Okay, let me set forth my biases right away. I am not a Calvinist. I don’t dig Reformed theology. In fact, I find most of it abhorrent. I am more egalitarian than complementarian. I just am SO theologically opposite of Driscoll.

BUT…

I think he is a brilliant communicator, a theologically consistent preacher, and a remarkable leader. And I’ve subscribed to his podcasts for years.  One of the things I’ve always appreciated about Driscoll is his consistency. His theology is consistent (even when I hate it). His teaching is consistent. His work is consistent. And then he goes and writes two articles that are SO ridiculously inconsistent!  I’m seriously surprised and disappointed.

Basically, his argument goes like this:
Christians should not practice yoga because it is rooted in Eastern religion and the physical practice can’t be separated from its religious roots.
Christians are free to embrace MMA, even though it’s brutally violent and also rooted in Eastern philosophy/religion, because the physical sport can be separated from the religious roots and Jesus is the ultimate fighter.

Am I the only one that sees the problem with this?

Really, it’s just further evidence of Driscoll’s heavy-handed hypermasculinity. Is anyone shocked that he would “receive” MMA but “reject” yoga? I don’t care how about the injury rate compared to other sports, the strict rules, or anything else. At the end of the day, shame on us, as Christians, if we are at all entertained by bloody, brutal violence, whether in the ring, cage, or elsewhere!  Oh wait. My bad. Shame on us, as Christians, if we stretch, exercise, breathe and meditate. (WTF??)

 

What’s Up With Pastors Leaving Their Churches??

First Francis Chan.
Now Rob Bell.

Super influential pastors, leading huge churches, and with large non-local followings via podcast. What makes these men up and leave their churches, seemingly out of nowhere?

Both say they feel God calling them to do something else. Neither seem sure of what that “something else” is. In fairness to Rob, he has not yet addressed the situation in detail to his congregation. He plans to do that Sunday. So my remarks may be premature. A couple of thoughts…

• Would it be such a big deal if Rob Bell wasn’t so well-known?  Surely, there are many pastors of small churches who carry out their duties in anonymity and who unexpectedly resign. How do we react to those resignations?
• Do we expect pastors to do the same thing their entire lives?  If so, why?
• Do you think lots of people will leave Mars Hill as a result of Bell’s resignation?  Are they justified in doing so?
• What happens to a community when the lead pastor leaves?

I would love to hear others’ thoughts on these questions and on Bell’s resignation.

We Don’t Need Worship Music

Ohhhhh Pete Rollins.  Such an unusual little man.  He’s deep and challenging and creative.  His latest piece on his blog is about worship music.  Here’s an excerpt:

Part of the reason why I get caught off guard lies in the way that so much Christian music emulates the structure of popular music. In order to begin to reflect upon what this means (and these are only provisional reflections) we could offer the following working definition of worship music: any music that presents someone or thing as the fulfilment of a gap at the core of our being.

For example a worship song might hold up a woman, fame, sex, money, revenge, Jesus etc. as that which is the answer to our sense of being incomplete. This should not be confused with a piece of music that simply celebrates and upholds someone or thing as good, beautiful and worthy. Rather it describes a song that holds someone or thing as the absolute answer.

It is not then the person or thing which makes a piece of music a worship song but rather the position that person or thing holds in the song itself (as that which fills, or would fill, a perceived void).

The most immediate problem with singing such songs in church lies in the way that it reduces the source of faith to just one more product promising us fulfilment and happiness in our soul. The church is then reduced to just one more company with it’s advertising sales pitch, it’s promises of happiness and it’s impotent snake oil supplement to supposedly enhance our lives.

Read the whole piece here: “The Church Shouldn’t Do Worship, The Charts Have That Covered”

Someone Bought Me a Book

I went to church in Midtown this evening with a dear friend and her father. Before the sermon, the pastor talked about some of the books he has written and some of the resources that would be available for purchase in the lobby.  I normally don’t take kindly to pastors “pushing their product” from the pulpit. But…I don’t know…it seemed genuine, and I was genuinely interested in some of the stuff.

I remember sitting in my chair, thinking, “Gee, I’d really like one of those books. It sounds awesome.”  And that thought was followed by, “Nah. You’ve spent enough money today. You have plenty of books. Just let it go.”

After the service, my friend’s father surprised me with an awesome gift.  He had bought a book for me (and it was the exact one I wanted!).  And he even had the pastor sign it for me.  :)

I felt totally blessed, both by the kindness and generosity of my friend’s father and by God’s attentiveness to the desires of my heart.  It was, in a word, delightful!

Anglicans and Abandonment

I worshipped with Anglican brothers and sisters this morning. Then stuck around and ate a delicious lunch of Mexican food with these strangers turned friends.  I could not have asked for a more delightful first visit to a church.  Truly a beautiful morning and afternoon.

I have kept my house quiet today. No television. No music. And occasionally, I hear birds outside over the hum of the beleaguered A/C.  I like the silence. It fosters contemplation.  I find rest without sleeping.

Today, I am meditating on the words of Jesus as he hung on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
How is it that Jesus, who is one with God, can experience forsakenness or abandonment?  How is it that in the most paramount moment of his ministry  he feels farthest away from God?  What does that mean for how Jesus relates to us? How God relates to us?  How we relate to God?  What role does abandonment play in our spiritual journey?  How does abandonment bring us closer to God?  Or bring others closer to God?

What Church Should Be Like

For the past two Sundays, I have attended a house church collective held in various homes in Atlanta. After years and years of “churching”, this house church seems a little odd. But odd or not, it is a beautiful experience.

We sing songs from a “hymnal”, which is a collection of folk-y songs printed on artsy paper and bound by keyrings.  Then we pray. Then we read Scripture verses and quotes from other texts. We co-create a sermon through our discussion and dialogue. Then we share Communion. And then we eat a potluck dinner together and hang out.

I really think this is what church is supposed to be like.

Reluctant Religion

Last night I attended something like a house church. A gathering. We sang. We read Scripture verses. Had a discussion. Shared the Lord’s Supper. Ate dinner. Hung out. It was very “kingdom of God-y” .  By that I mean, quietly springing up amidst all this other stuff. Slowly, unassumingly working its way through the dough.

Anyway, afterwards, my buddies and I went to a bar.  We shared a table with some gay fellows. Some warm, inviting, hilarious fellows.  At one point, the guy nearest me asked how I knew my buddies. I said I knew them from church.  He proceeded to tell me how he grew up Presbyterian, etc.  We shared some ideas about faith and religion. Then we clanked cups and toasted to spirituality. They departed with hugs, kisses, and kind words for us all. I can’t explain the loveliness of those moments.

But a question lingers. At one point in the conversation, my toasting friend said to me, “So you’re more spiritual then?”  To which I responded, “Umm…well, what do you mean?”  He said, “You’re more, like, spiritual than all religious or whatever.”  I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, so I said, “I suppose you could say that. I mean, I love Jesus, but I don’t get hung up on a lot of stuff.”

How did he come to that conclusion?  That I was “more like spiritual than religious or whatever”.
Because I was in a bar?
Because I was drinking beer?
Because I was hanging out with gay people?
Because I didn’t totally freak out over some of the sacrilegious  art on the walls?
I don’t know.

As I let that interaction play back in my mind throughout the night, I wondered about my spirituality vs. my religiosity.  I have tried to distance myself from many aspects of cultural Christianity, such as right-wing Republicanism, disregard for the environment, anti-gay stuff, mega-church-ianity, etc.  I am so reluctant to associate with Christianity because of all the baggage attached to that label. At the same time, there are parts of my religious tradition that I do appreciate and want to identify with.  How do I claim those parts but remain a “more like spiritual than religious or whatever” person?

Sunday Morning Depression

I’m depressed.
I eat Oreos and fruity Mentos for temporary highs.
And I want a Swisher Sweet.
And I want to lay in bed all day and let the world go on around me, without me.

I’m going to church in an hour. I’m only going because they’re taking Communion today. And I want that.

Unusual Signs of Spiritual Growth

There is no way to measure spiritual growth.

That is pretty damn frustrating.  But just because it can’t be measured doesn’t mean it can’t be recognized.  I started thinking about spiritual growth a few weeks ago, centered around the question, “How do I know if I’m growing?” Through meditating on that question, I realized that the question was coming from a place of fear. In other words, what I was really saying was, “I’m afraid that I’m not growing!”  I felt like the circumstances of my life were mounting evidence that I was, in fact, not growing.

And then it occurred to me…maybe I am missing the signs. So, here are some unusual signs of spiritual growth that I think I’ve witnessed in my life.

1. Unanswered Prayers
   In the early years of my Christian journey, God increased my faith by answering all of my prayers. I learned to trust Him by seeing Him work. But now God is increasing my faith by not answering my prayers. I learn to trust Him in the midst of things going awry or life being flipped on its head or not getting what I desperately want.  I learn to trust Him even when there’s no obvious benefit to me.
2. Silence
   I have often thought that God’s silence means He is upset with me or ignoring me. And then I think about Job. He was blameless and upright and feared God.  Yet, chapter after chapter, God is silent as Job suffers one calamity after another.  Why was Job tested?  Because God trusted that Job would keep his faith in Him.  So maybe God’s silence is a sign that I have grown to the point of God being able to trust that I will trust Him, no matter what.
3. Dissatisfaction with Church
   I have been troubled by my dissatisfaction with church lately, wondering if it was indicative of some spiritual faltering.  Who did Jesus take issue with the most?  Religious people!  Why? Because Jesus loves the Church and wants them to be free from religiosity and every other pseudo-spiritual distraction.  So maybe this dissatisfaction means I can now think for myself, feed myself, and understand for myself. I have grown to recognize the glories and the flaws of the church. And the only reason I’m dissatisfied is because the church in fact matters to me!

So, there are just three unusual signs of spiritual growth.  I think the overarching idea is ‘absence’.  There is a profound spiritual growth that can happen when God feels absent, when blessing feels absent, when community feels absent, when everything that you have relied on before feels absent.  Reframing these circumstances has been liberating for me because I stop beating myself up over the unanswered prayers, the silence, and the dissatisfaction. I just keep learning to trust God because He is trusting me to trust Him in the midst of everything that seems stagnant.