i’m a crappy christian

i hope you will hang out with me some, i am aternately filled with hope and despair on my own state and the state of the church as a whole. i am sure at times i may sound like a bit of a whiny baby, but such is the current season.

for my first blog on the new site i grabbed one from the refuge that is the best overview to what is to be found here. we have deleleted all the comments from all the blogs that we transferred over, so if you don’t see your comment that is why.

I hope you will forgive the coarse title, I was quite depressed when I started this blog. The title reflects the way I often feel when I compare myself to others. I used to be a good Christian. Well, I was almost a good Christian. I only missed it by a few devotions and had I lead two more people to Christ I am pretty sure I could have gotten some merit badge. I was a confident and positive young man filled with lots of interesting trivia about the Bible. Now, I am middle-aged, have spent most of my adult life being paid as a “professional Christian” and mostly wonder what happened?

And I am realizing that it is as difficult now to move from being noticed to obscurity as it was to sit alone at lunch in junior high. Mostly, only good Christians get noticed. As a matter of fact that may be the primary task of the good Christian–to be noticed. God, friends, admirers, kids, spouses, bosses, you name it. We crave that our goodness, godliness, and “hard work for the Kingdom” be acknowledged. So as I sit back and reflect on how far back I have fallen in my good Christian duties, I have identified a couple of the primary qualities that separate good Christians from the rest of us.

Goals.
Good Christians have lots of goals.
Attendance to double, do more devotions, more push-ups, better schools, and more moral government officals and laws. The Christian bookstore can assist you…apparently we have become a fix-it faith, get-er-done kind of Christianity. Think back to last New Years, those resolutions you made, and I bet you wanted to be a better Christian.

Sh**ty Christians are slow, and sometimes appear lazy; but what they are trying very hard to do is to stop measuring everything. Loving people seems to look different now than winning people, and I can not for the life of me find that passage where Jesus told his disciples their numbers were a bit low….can anyone help me?

Here are some of my new lofty goals:
not tinkle when I sneeze
meet tiger woods
love better

That’s about it….

Power.
Good Christians seem to have a lot of power.
Good Christians have an enormous amount of power, especially over nagging character defects. It seems that good Christians do not struggle much with issues of the flesh and personal history. Somehow, they always find victory, which means, that as far as anyone can see, they have no visible defects. Only good Christians are considered as leaders, and the better the Christian, the more “leadership” they are given. With power comes a sense of independence that allows the good Christian to not really need others too much.

Shi**ty Christians are usually total losers. They struggle with morality, substances, and the confidence to believe that everyone should do what they say. They compound their problem by telling folks of their problems. And then just to make things worse, they actually ask for help.

Certainty.
Good Christians are certain they are right.
How often do you hear from a good Christian, “I wonder, what do you think, maybe I am wrong?” The Bible is book of facts to be mastered, and once you have the proper key, it all fits into a nice, neat little package. Certainty is what gives the good Christian such confidence, the ability to tell others how to live without hesitation. They often seem to say certainty is faith, but if you are sure do you really need faith?

Sh**ty Christians doubt, ask questions, and aren’t too sure anymore. We tend to wonder, question, and notice that some believe differently than we do and we don’t always feel obligated to fix the difference.

I wrote this blog to just create a conversation, to stir some thoughts. Have you thought of yourself as one of those shi**y Christians? and if so what prompts it? What is that makes you so bad at this? Just know you’re not alone.

Beware: not a funny blog. boring, actually, but for a small section, perhaps interesting.

Most of my Christian life I have been afraid of “L”

It is similar to when I was in grade school, and more than anything I did not want to be a sissy. I don’t think a worse epithet could be hurled at me. So great was my fear that I not only did all I could to avoid that label, but I of course avoided those who were identified as sissies. But what exactly is a sissy?

When I first became a Christ follower in high school, the only Christians I knew were very conservative evangelicals. I am really grateful for the bible training I received, but the constant fear of “L” is a lingering effect. The threat of “L” is still a weapon used today, and the ramifications can be painful.

Liberal was the worst category of people, for they were bright, educated, and wrong. To be liberal was wrong in moral or willful ways, not simply ideology. While in Bible College and seminary I was taught it was the greatest threat to the cause of Christ and the kingdom of God. But what exactly is liberal?

I understand that politically some who would prefer to see a more equitable distribution of wealth via government action are liberals. But by any definition they are the enemies of conservatives. I have always been on the conservative team, and thus my enemies were liberals.

Here is what happens then in real life: I am confronted with an issue regarding politics, sex, money, heaven, etc. Responding was never really very difficult because I used to know exactly what my team thought. I could give a “right” answer, and I knew it was right because it was agreed to by all my friends and it was conservative. Ah, so comforting. But what happens if you start to think a thought that you know is not conservative? (think, what happens if I cry on the playground?)
Fear. Fear that my conservative friends will think I am liberal. And then I won’t have any friends.

I am in new phase of life, where I want to think thoughts that scare me, and might not be conservative. But I am afraid I will be without friends. Long story, old message. We all want friends, and that desire clouds much of what we do. I miss the clarity. It was so much easier. I don’t really want to have to make all new friends. Can it be okay to have a just a little bit of L? I can already hear the voices “it’s a slippery slope…”

Or maybe I just need new friends?

this past weekend we hosted in the denver area our friends jim henderson and matt casper for a series of conversations. jim is a committed christian (small “c” on purpose, his preference) and matt is an atheist. together they collaborated on a book project, Jim and Casper Go to Church, and in the process they became friends. what a concept.

participating in these conversations over the weekend, i felt something familiar to me, that instinct when someone does not see the brilliance of our position and how we tend to react. it really does not matter if it is an atheist, republican, democrat, or most commonly just my poor, sweet wife–my instinct when someone disgrees tends to be the same.

here’s what i consider the anatomy of a fight:

1. i present the undeniable facts or truth
2. april does not respond by acknowledging my superior intellect
3. i assume she did not hear me. if she heard me, she would just say “thanks, you are so smart”
4. so i end up saying the same thing, but a bit louder
5. april makes it clear that she can hear me, but she disagrees with me.
6. i repeat the volume step (#4), but with more volume
7. april now seems to be not repenting out of spite
8. i assume that if i ridicule her, then she will somehow see how smart my idea is.

you can see how this will end. i am hoarse and april is no closer to my reality. it happened each day this weekend as matt and jim listened to what was supposed to be questions from the audience. every time, someone could not believe that matt or jim saw life or the bible or faith differently, and of course all they need is more volume. or perhaps if we ridicule the atheist or progressive christian, then they will change. of course, this was played amongst many wonderful, thoughtful & sincere other questions as well, but the volume ones really struck a chord.

i loved the weekend, the conversation. i am trying so hard to turn down the volume so I can actually hear what those who see life differently have to say. what do you sy? what are some of your perspectives on the conversation?

At The Refuge we have a high sensitivity to people who struggle with addiction. Not in the typical church sense, where the recovering alcoholic is paraded around like some trophy that shows how cool and “grace- filled” you are, and it is made clear the addict is the other person, the one you want to help. At The Refuge we have this sense we are all in the same boat, and addict or dabbler, we are all the same. But recently I have noticed that at The Refuge we have left out a silent and growing mass of addicts, and I have realized we have nothing for them.

I like to call it inspiration addiction. Like any addiction, this drug needs to be consumed in ever larger doses to maintain the high. We have created a faith culture that has confused adrenaline with the Holy Spirit. It is fairly easy to identify the addiction–“amazing” will be applied to all the movements of the service/show. For example, the worship, speaker, fog machine, light show, are amazing. I was once stuck in the lobby of a large church behind closed doors, when I wondered to someone in charge why we could not go in. He replied that making everyone wait builds anticipation and excitement. Anticipation of what? We can say God, but color me suspicious, I think it is the adrenaline rush of music that makes me sway, speaking that makes me feel, and fog lights create a sense of being part of something “incredible.” I am not saying God isn’t present in these moments, but I submit it is the fix, the high that is being promoted and everyone behind the scenes knows exactly how to feed the junkies.

I am sad today, but it will only last a few hours. I am sad because I feel I can not compete with “amazing”. I have long believed that the only proper answer to “why do you belong to that faith community?” must be something along the lines of “ I love to be with those people, who need me and whom I need, and together we are experiencing Jesus, giving Him away and growing, and becoming more loving human beings.” Whenever the answer is “I go to this or that church because of the amazing ________” (fill in the blank with anything you wish) we have become enablers to the inspirationally addicted. But at The Refuge, we have nothing amazing. No great teaching–often the most profound thing said is from some audience member. No slick program–we use for worship most weeks those friends who want to do it, not those who auditioned and have met some man-made bar of music excellence. The truth is we don’t even offer certainty, another favorite drug of inspiration addicts. At The Refuge I am realizing the only thing we can really offer is hope and long term journeying, listening more than telling, and a faithfulness to live the principles Jesus shared in every way we know how. As much as I sometimes still long for the old high, too, I am finding my inspiration sobriety is teaching me the hard but real way what it means to live an unplugged, unhyped, authentic life.

What is fast? I think I know because God has given me a gauge, an internal and irrefutable indicator of too much speed. It’s called the constricting sphincter. I remember riding with my friend who believed he could “feel the road,” so 67 mph around one lane mountain passes made all the sense in the world. I chewed a hole in his seat. I understand that speed is inherently a subjective and biased opinion. “Hey, I think we need to slow down” can be heard in planes, board rooms, back seats, athletic fields. But what about churches and God?

I was reflecting recently on the one year anniversary of my departure from mega-church employment and what is different now. The question arose, “what has been the biggest shift in what you believe?” It is about speed. I was pre-disposed to think that people change very quickly. A single sermon, or at the least a series, is all it takes to get things moving in the proper direction. One or two weeks of being stuck, just add a little spiritual fiber (prayer, Bible reading, and solid preaching, the evangelical elixir) and presto, unstuck. A few years of being stuck, you might need to throw in a few extra scoops of godly Metamucil—extra time with me as your pastor offering my eloquent wisdom and maybe a good book to read about your ailment, and voila! Ahh, movement. My apologies, I seem to be a bit stuck in the lower hemisphere for my analogies today. Suffice it to say the expectations in mega- church world are that people should very quickly resolve what it is that ails them.

One of the issues that lead to my demise of employment was I have some unresolved childhood stuff. I am insecure, frightened at times, a compulsive people pleaser and so on. But way more grievous is that I thought it should be talked about. I will give you a quote upon my departure “you need to go away with God and get this resolved before you are qualified to preach.” Get ‘er done! What is funny, is that the powers that be would think I had never tried that! Trust me, I would take an instant, miraculous healing in a second.

The shift in my perception and ability to pastor that has become the most noticeable this past year: take what you or your church believe to be the proper amount of time to experience change and simply multiply that number by 100. Change is a factor of 100 times slower than what you thought. Churches are in danger of subtly communicating the opposite, especially when all of our stories are of the victories we have and the quickly resolved issues. We begin to create communities of people who believe they are spiritual freaks, they are not like others because although they love Jesus and have begged for change, it still seems so far away. Real change takes time, and time isn’t all that glamorous. Let’s face it, The Refuge, it ain’t all that glamorous. It is sometimes ugly, frustrating to see a lot of pain and have it not be resolved quick enough for us to feel comfortable. I feel the same way about my journey of change, too. I want it to be neater, cleaner, and certainly more triumphant.

So we continue to hope for the simple fix. Just think for a moment how many times you have sat in church and you heard this preface to what it is that plagues us: “well, all you need to do is….” One problem, one solution, and fast!

When I hear that sentence, I start to cramp up, way too fast.

I am math illiterate. It is really with quite a bit of shame I admit it. I can do arithmetic and nothing else. To this day, I do not understand why, when in an obvious math situation, an “x” or “y” can suddenly appear? The reverse is not permissible, and I can not when grasping for the proper word get frustrated and slap a 7 in its’ place, can I?

What I remember about my math journey in school was that the other kids got it. Each class the teacher would add just a bit to the previous day’s knowledge, each student nodding their understanding. I would look alert, straining to recognize something, but it was always the same thing: as soon as the alphabet showed up I was lost. I tried, I spent time with the teacher after school, and in his presence I seemed to finally understand, but as soon as I was alone in my room, numbers and letters were mortal enemies.

I had a flash back last Friday night. I attended what we call at our faith community a House of Refuge, and this was the first night of a 3 month series on healthy relationships. I am not new to this sort of thing, I know how this is going to go, and pretty soon I will be completely lost. After 46 years is it time to admit I can not do math or healthy relationships?

I know that pretty soon the algebraic concepts of relationships will emerge, ideas such as saying what you need, expressing anger in healthy ways, boundaries and co-dependence. And I will be completely lost. I see my friends, and they seem to get it, somehow this makes sense to them. I can not grasp it. I do other things well, just as in school I appeared to be a bright student. I loaded my schedule with history and language arts, I compensated. I am good at getting people to like me, think I am smart about God and life, I have loaded my schedule with helping people. But actually being a friend? An intimate partner for my wife?

That looks like x=yx %z +\+=

An A in this class is impossible, out of reach at this stage. I am without too many of the basic concepts. But I can learn, can’t I? I am sure to fail tests and be at a complete and utter loss over and over again, but I guess this time I am leaving a little hope that maybe, just maybe, the lights might come on and something might just begin to make sense this time. A D is better than an F, right?

Tony Barker was the smartest sixth grader in the country and happened to be in my class at school. I remember when he brought War and Peace to class for his “free reading” selection. No teacher was qualified to teach him math, so he taught the class. At the age of twelve he aspired to become a neurosurgeon. He became one of the youngest tenured professors at the University of Colorado. But what I most vividly remember, the memory that is first in line for recall is…

In sixth grade Tony Barker wet his pants.

This past Sunday at The Refuge I shared a significant flaw in my character, a specific horrible moment that could have ruined multiple lives. It is probably not my worst moment, but it is certainly up there as something I would much rather forget. Now that I have said it out loud, publicly, it will now be a part of the mosaic that influences how I am known and remembered. Yes, how I am choosing to live now matters, but nothing will erase the memory of my bad choices. Hard to believe? What comes to mind with this name?

Monica Lewinski

A single act, whether stupid, evil, or silly influences our memory so dramatically it can overshadow all our other accomplishments. This is why it is always vital to remember the ellipsis.

The ellipsis (aka dot.dot.dot….) is the literary equivalent of Grace. We live in a world of periods. End of story. That is it, you are what you were, I have all the information I need. It is a life without grace. And I am fairly used to living that way. I forget that our lives are constantly being written, yes significant chapters have occurred and some of those chapters include some pretty ugly mistakes, but maybe the climax is yet to come?

The power of the gospel is that my story is constantly changing. It is my job to believe each person I meet, especially those who are part of the rag-tag community we call The Refuge, are not yet who they one day will be. Even more difficult is to believe it about me. I’m learning to believe my life is more like an ellipsis…the story isn’t finished. I must live this by not hiding, but trusting you will see me slowly become more of who I was made to be. I cannot end my loneliness if I am hiding in the shadows of someone’s distorted admiration.

I am …

Who knows where or how it will end?

I despise the adjective Christian. Do not misunderstand me, I like the noun Christian, or at least it is tolerable. But this habit of labeling everything Christian is sooo confusing. There is this weird, parallel universe that now exists; it is almost like the real world, but in this one, everything is preceded by the prefix “Christian.”

I was at a “Christian bookstore” last week. It was not a pleasant experience. First, there was an overwhelming sense that I suck at being a Christian. From the tone of the titles I have the feeling God is a bit miffed with me because I lack “purpose”, don’t know the “secrets” and have not developed the “leader” within me. For this emotional purging I will focus on the second unpleasantry of “Christian” book shopping–the growing isolation and silliness of sectarianism. The “all things Christian” phenomenon was epitomized by the Christian mints they were selling at the counter. I am not lying! Christian mints! They are called Testa-mints. I suppose they are for casting out the demon of halitosis, and the spreading of the minty fresh good news. For my taste they needed some Christian Pepto-bismol. I felt nauseous.

What does it even mean when someone uses the prefix “Christian”? I think the implication is that the prefix Christian equals pre-approved, you do not have to worry, God likes it. But does that mean if doesn’t say “Christian” it is pagan?

In addition to bookstores and mints, here is a brief sampling of some common Christian prefixes: Christian plumber, Christian coffee shop, Christian art, Christian band, Christian dating service, Christian realtor, Christian news, Christian doctor, Christian cars (or drivers, the fish thing is confusing), Christian amusement park. Trust me this list extends to eternity. Last week I listened to an elderly man from the south describe his entire town as a Christian town.

I propose a moratorium on the prefix Christian. You know from previous tirades how I feel about this tendency for Christ followers to isolate, withdraw, and hide. The whole “us vs. them” thing is getting a bit silly.

If we do not stop this now, where does it end? It will not stop until we have Christian Viagra. (I have paused for several minutes, letting my imagination take me away. I am pretending it is my responsibility to market Christian Viagra to the church. I see dollar signs, big evangelical bucks. I can not reveal the entire campaign in a family blog, but let’s just say you will not sing such familiar hymns as He is Risen, Stand up for Jesus, and Up from the Dead He Arose in quite the same way.)

If we do not cease substituting the word Christian for the life of Jesus we will deservedly appear as ignorant, intolerant buffoons who care about one thing: hunkering down in our own little Christian ghetto, staying safe, unstained.
Interesting note, as I write this I am sitting in a coffee shop. It is owned by a lovely Christian couple. It is one of the more “Christian” shops I have enjoyed, yet there is not one piece of Christian kitsch to buy. Not one bible, not even a single verse of the day. The music is normal, no down with the devil t-shirts or WWJD bracelets. And it is the most eclectic gathering of people around. Just a few weeks ago my coffee was served by a lovely tattooed, lesbian girl with the most delightful demeanor. In fact many folks in my little town, some with really unique persuasions, consider this to be “their” place. It is Christian in this way–customers are loved and valued just as they are, each person is someone to be served, most of all it is safe.

To use the label, the adjective of Christian, is to be lazy and afraid. Not in the history of the world has someone who is hurting and seeking to be loved by Jesus found him by sucking on a mint.

Real Love, the kind I’m pretty sure Jesus meant for us to know and live, is so hard. It takes hanging in there, getting dirty, being present. Maybe that is why Jesus on his last night prayed something like this, “don’t take them out of the world, but empower them to change the world they’re in.