Kids

My wife and kids are visiting my wife's family this weekend. Tonight I received the following email from my wife:

Subject: How Christian Spent His Day

He was playing with a back scratcher all day that my mom has. He managed to break all the fingers off if it but one. I took a pic so you could appreciate it. Enjoy.

Christian is my three year old son. The pic is here.

Fit

The first time that I got fired from a youth ministry job I was surprised. Shocked, really. I never saw it coming. "There's not really anything specific that we can point to," I was told. "You just don't fit the 'ethos' of the church." (That's a nice way of saying, "You're different from us. We don't like different.") "See, the kids are reading Celebration of Discipline, and we don't want a youth group full of quiet, contemplative kids. And some of the kids that have been showing up at the meeting, well, they're not really the kind of kids we're looking for. And what's with the candles? That's sort of wierd. You understand, right?"

Yac used to do a seminar at the YS events called How to Get Fired from Youth Ministry or something like that. "Tell the truth," he'd say, "Be authentic and show that you struggle too. Don't be dazzled by numbers and technology; just teach kids to love Jesus and follow Him instead of 'success'. You won't last - but it will be worth it." I miss that man - he was the voice of thousands of youth workers whose stories you'll never hear because the system chewed them up and spat them out. (But I bet they get great seats at heaven's table.) When I saw him at the YS convention the following year, I told him, "I did it - I did what you said, and they fired me. But it was worth it." And he looked at me with those eyes that were always full of laughter and wonder and sincerity and said, "Good job." That was it - nothing deep or profound, but I knew he understood.

Donald Miller in his new book Searching for God Knows What writes:

Imagine a pamphlet explaining the gospel of Jesus that said something like this:

You are the bride to the Bridegroom, and the Bridegroom is Jesus Christ. You must eat of His flesh and drink of His blood to know Him, and your union with Him will make you one, and your oneness with Him will allow you to be identified with Him, His purity allowing God to interact with you, and because of this you will be with Him in eternity, sitting at His side and enjoying His companionship, which will be more fulfilling than an earthly husband or an earthly bride. All you must do to engage God is be willing to leave everything behind, be willing to walk away from your identity, and embrace joyfully the trials and tribulations, the torture and perhaps martyrdom that will come upon you for being a child of God in a broken world working out its own redemption in empty pursuits.

I think that's true and beautiful and right, while at the same time being challenging and difficult and mysterious. In reality, we shouldn't be surprised when the gospel does things to us that causes us to not fit the "ethos" of where we are. It's a part of the gospel, a part of our becoming like Jesus.

Church

Today I decided to take a bit of a spin around the blogosphere, something I haven't done in a while because I'm a bit burned out on the whole church thing. Interestingly enough, I stumbled onto this post by jen lemen, which led me to this post by maggi dawn, which connected rather solidly with my recent ambivalence (ok, let's be real - hostility) towards church, fueled in part by this and reinforced this week by Sandman's post here. So now I've got sort of this gumbo rant floating around in the back of my head, composed of whatever's made it into the pot lately, and I think it needs to come out so that I can turn it off. I'm probably not going to be very nice here, because I think that what maggi has said is so good and so worthwile but it contrasts so sharply with what my experience has been. I identify with jen's post quite a bit, because of things like the load of crap that the church has dealt to so many good, dedicated, loving, sincere people.

First, to maggi's point - let's define terms here. Church (big "C") is a beautiful thing. The big-picture body of Christ, in all of her wonder and variety and strength and perseverence and truth and love - that is an amazing, miraculous thing. I love the Church, and am humbled to consider myself at its margins. There is so much that is good and beautiful in what God has done in and through His people throughout the millenia.

On the other hand, to jen's point - I have seen few groups that are able to do as much damage as frequently as church (little "C"). Is it the form, the structure, something rotten and malignant that has crept its way into the dna? Is it something more sinister? Is it something more simple, the straightforward application of basic human sinfulness that manifests itself any time broken people come together? I'm not sure. Frankly, I don't think I care. When the ends begin to justify the means, and the means begin to look awfully abusive and exploitative, then I think it's time to cry foul. Let's be real - the scenario that Sandman describes is not surprising to most of us, is it? It's far, far too common. And where is the outcry, the sense of indignation about how we treat brothers and sisters in Christ? It's become part of the system, and we are the worse for it.

When does church cease to be the Church? For starters, let me strongly affirm that I believe God's kingdom is made up entirely of broken, sinful people who He has invited into His house. To that degree, I am not surprised when church falls short of Christlikeness. On the other hand, when church not only fails to embody the Gospel, but becomes actively hostile towards it, then I must start to ask some questions. When leadership can hurt, abuse, exploit, mislead, and discard people unrepentantly, I must question. When "follow Christ" means "sit on my ass," I must question. When service becomes something to attend rather than something to do and to be, I must question. When defending faith becomes attacking everyone else, I must question.

I have a lot of questions but few answers, other than that church, as embodied far too frequently in my American context, is broken. Jesus talked about wheat and weeds, and how the Kingdom was like a field where both were sown. The distinguishing characteristic between the two is fruit - and I'm seeing precious little of it from my vantage point.

So what's my point? Back to maggi's post - I'm done. I quit. I'm not doing church anymore. I'm too pissed off about too many things. I have better things to do than waste my time with a system that cannot produce real fruit because the dna is so badly messed up. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm just taking my ball and going home. Maybe the Jesus thing to do would be to suck it up and forgive, take my lumps like a good boy and let church leaders continue to treat me like a piece of meat or like a cheap tool that can be easily discarded when it has accomplished its purpose. But I can't - it's too contrary to what I read in scripture of how this thing is supposed to operate, of what Church is supposed to be. And I love that picture, that ideal so much - I love the Church - that I can't just cave and play the game anymore. I can't do that and be a whole person, an authentic human being. Church, after all, is where we become people - true, whole, Jesus people, instead of our fractured, isolated selves. My experience of church is anything but that.

What to do instead? I have a few buddies who have been talking house church for a while. I think I'm going to give that a go. I'm going to discard church in order to try to reconnect with the Church. Who knows? Perhaps God will be gracious, and I'll find a place to belong and to be a real person, where church and Church aren't antonyms. It could happen - many, many people have been fortunate or blessed enough to do so. But I need to get out before it destroys my faith.

Travel

I'm going to be in San Francisco on business Sept. 18-24 and was wondering if anyone had thoughts of churches to visit while I'm there. Any thoughts would be appreciated.

Farmer

Something I found while reading today:

August

Summers in the eastern United States are beautiful things, things to be treasured and loved. For a time, it seems the inexorable march of seasons takes pause and rests, content to let the days pass without urgency or care. The first week of August, however, is summer's midlife crisis. Things change in August; the carefree attitude of July passes like a memory with the realization that autumn comes swiftly. The air is thick and heavy, settling over the landscape like a blanket. Things are busy with the stuff of growth and life, underscored by the urgency that soon these things will pass under the weight of frost and fallen leaves. Even now there is something of autumn on the wind, some hint or suggestion of the coming change. Perhaps it is the lengthening shadows or the ever so slight shortening of days. Perhaps it is the scattering of yellowed leaves that already begin to fall or the brown of grass withering in the late afternoon sun. Whatever it may be, it exists just out of sight, a perception that can barely be identified, much less catalogued. Nonetheless, the air is still pregnant with life. Harvest draws closer. Time will come for rest and sleep; for now, growth is the order of the day.

I wonder that we miss the message of August, the rhythm that the Creator has woven into the very fabric of our existence. We look for life to be about growth and progress and wonder at death and sleep. In truth, autumn and winter come to every life, as well as spring and summer. These things are each the gifts of God. Hope, I believe, lives in the blending of seasons, in the passing of summer into autumn that looks with expectation to the coming spring.