Leaving Church

I am a pastor and I am ready to leave church.  My words fail me: frustrated, apathetic, uninspired, irrelevant, disillusioned, meaningless, formulaic, contrived, empty, directionless, impotent, ineffectual, disconnected, pointless, dissonant...

Honestly, what the hell are we doing?  Say what you will, but I'm pretty sure when Jesus said the Kingdom of God has come near he didn't mean spend an hour in worship, attend a small group, or volunteer for a service project. I am so sick of the disconnect between our religious activities and our every day lives.  We talk and talk about discipleship, mission, and outreach but we devote all of our time, money, and resources to programs or services that either placate nominal Christians or keep them spiritually immature or co-dependent.

Seriously how many worship services, small groups, or service projects do we have to attend before we are ready to go out into the big bad world with all of the "lost," "unchurched," "sinners?"  How much "fellowship" or "devotion" time is necessary before we can muster enough courage to be friends with a non-Christian, to have dinner with a neighbor, or to stand up for the vulnerable?

I am sorry but getting people to "go to church" was never the plan.  God didn't come to grow a congregation or to employ vocational ministers, He came to transform all of creation. Through His life, death, and resurrection Jesus was and is making all things new, and through his life, death, and resurrection He has invited others to do the same.

The church was never the goal nor was it intended to be the location for or provider of religious goods and services.  The church was and will always be those messy people who believe and behave in such a way that souls are reborn, hearts are mended, relationships are reconciled, and lives are restored.

I never guessed I'd have to leave the church in order to be the church.

Jelly, Jam, and Preservation

On Monday I had breakfast with Jim Yost missionary to Papua, Indonesia.  He's devoted a lifetime to following Jesus wherever he might lead.  From the Jungle to the city, Jim and his family have sought to live at the intersection of what God was doing in their personal lives and what he was doing in the world.  Jim embodies the simplicity of the life lived with God.  From his perspective, life and faith are simple, "listen to the Father then do what he says."

Jim's faith formula is complicated: Step 1 - listen; Step 2 - respond; Step 3 - repeat steps 1 and 2.

Nearly four decades later, Jim and his family have seen and experienced the miraculous.  The fruit of their faithfulness can be measured in the 10's, the 100's, and the 1000's.

I on the other hand have a formula that's more concerned with preserving fruit than producing it.  My faith formula is like the jelly of the month club.  I take a little Jesus, mix it with some self-interest and personal security, and let it simmer over the low heat of my half-hearted devotion.

Listening to God and doing what he says seems a little too simplistic and risky to me. I think I prefer self-preservation...you know it's that fruit we can and seal and spread on our bland lives when we crave a little flavor. Jim Yost may have a stand full of fruit, but I have a pantry full of fruit preserves (I just hope mine doesn't expire).

Mo Money!

The mainline church is dying in America because of one simple reason.  The reason ain't culture.  It ain't pluralism.  It ain't New Atheism, or any of the other excuses church leaders propose.  The simple answer is the church is dying because of money.  Some say money makes the world go round but in the church it makes the church go down.  Behind the smoke and mirrors of Sunday worship, children's programs, youth retreats, and heart-wrenching short-term mission trips is money.  Make no mistake about it the church in America is an institution and like most institutions it has become more obsessed with its survival than its mission.  As an institution, the church has accumulated and developed all the accoutrements an institution needs to exist.  It needs professionally trained managers, systems and programs that encourage conformity and the status quo, a pacified constituency adverse to risk and devoted to safety, and a prevailing message that equates success with serving the needs and the "mission" of the institution.  But above all else an institution needs money and this need drives nearly every decision whether explicit or implicit.  Herein lies the problem and why the institutional church is dying.  Jesus and his mission is all that God will accept as the impetus for the church, its form, and its function.  To reduce the Kingdom of God coming near to a building, a budget, or a brand is to reduce the work of God in Christ to a late night comedy skit long forgotten, "Mo Money!  Mo Money!  Mo Money!"     

        

A Good Kick in the Teeth

Metaphorically speaking, when was the last time you were kicked in the teeth?  When was the last time your self-assurance, over-confidence, or false sense of reality came crashing down?  The past year has been for me one kick after another.  Let me share a few self-discoveries from my chiclets being rearranged.  First and most surprising, the world actually doesn't revolve around me...shocking but true.  Second, having the title "Reverend" in front of your name does not make you more important or necessary than the other 7 billion people living on the planet.  Third, we are all self-deceived and the most toxic self-deceptions are born out of religiosity.  Fourth (an extension of #3), the pursuit of religion is a house of cards waiting to crumble.  Fifth, there is a God who wants to be your Father.  His love is incomparable, incomprehensible, unmistakable, life-altering, and never ceasing.  It doesn't run from pain or hide from darkness.  It doesn't need excuses or look for faults.  It doesn't shift with the tides or change with the wind.  With my teeth hanging on by a thread, I have learned there is a Father who doesn't ostracize, exclude, deny, or discriminate; but who wants to love personally, intimately, and for all eternity.      

Pope Francis - Thank You

For Thanksgiving 2013, I want to thank Pope Francis for his courage to lead and love like Jesus.  "I prefer a church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security."  Read More...

Louder Than Words

Enough said.

Commercials, Snapshots, and Selfies

Whether it takes a few seconds or a solid minute, the meaning and value of our lives is shaped by commercials, snapshots, and selfies.  That commercial runs with the too perfect family bonding as they trek hand in hand through Home Depot for that just right DIY weekend project.  "Hey honey what do you say we build a new stone patio with a pre-engineered swing set for the kiddos right next to it on our perfectly manicured lawn?"  Moments later the family is hard at work in the back yard.  Dad pauses ever so briefly from the final touches on the three story swing set to rustle little Tommy's hair.  Dad's lilly white teeth gleam in the evening sun as his gaze rests on his wife and daughter as they tidy up the freshly laid stone patio.  The aerial view pulls away and a voice assures us..."You can do it.  We can help."  I feel so empowered.

Or what about that SUV snapshot in your favorite magazine.  It has the mom with the figure no woman possesses who has actually given birth to two kids.  She's fit and fashionable, pretty hip for a mom.  She holds the door open as her exuberent kids pile into her rugged yet refined SUV with third row seating, hands free infotainment, and heated seats.  The tween girl in her soccer outfit has a look of practiced patience as her little brother attempts to dive passed her into the SUV violin case in tow.  Mom holding the door open for the kids looks at her tween daughter with a knowing shrug and smile.

Or what about the ever popular selfie.  I can take a picture of my self with my cutting edge digital device and post it on social media.  I can capture myself being or doing something that is super cool or outrageous.  I can capture myself looking like the person I really want to be and broadcast that to the world...that's who I am right now for all the world to see and in a few minutes I'll be someone else for all the world to see...and in a few minutes...

How much of our lives is measured by sound-bites?  How much of our value is based on expectations or standards portrayed in commercials, snapshots, and selfies?  Be honest.  It never lives up to the hype.  Maybe for a brief fleeting moment you live the dream, but more often than not you are left empty, underwhelmed, or dissatisfied.  If you're willing to be straight up you got all kinds of hopes and expectations that are being dashed on a daily basis.  Do you know where all those unmet expectations are coming from?  The car didn't do it.  The new house didn't fill you up.  Living through your kid wasn't the answer and neither was that personal trainer or Botox injection.  Like a kid playing on a perfectly constructed pre-engineered swing set I "double-dog" dare you to ask, "Where are my standards and expectations coming from?"  Be careful that's a rabbit hole that might just wreck you.

Glisson

Yesterday I picked up my oldest son from his week at Camp Glisson.  They end the week with a brief celebration where we parents get to listen to our kids sing crazy camp songs and watch a highlight reel of the week's activities.  The celebration ends with all of the counselors holding hands forming a circle around the campers and singing a final song of farewell.  This year tears welled in my eyes as the counselors sang, "I'll be praying for you every morning as I start off the day with the Lord.  I'll be praying that you're walking with Jesus and abiding in his Word."

My tears were brimming with awe and gratitude.  I was overcome by the awe-inspiring grace of a God who didn't simply transform my life he transformed my entire family.  Not only did Jesus alter the course of my life he altered the course of my wife and children.  As the counselors' farewell filled the musty air, I was reminded that my oldest son was five when Jesus began to change my life.  I couldn't help but wonder where we would be today had we not stepped through the doors of Mount Pisgah UMC some eleven years ago. I was filled with an uncontainable gratitude.  How do you say thank you for a new destiny?  How do you say thank you for a new life?  How do you say thank you for a resurrection?

I'm not sure it's possible but I intend to spend my life giving it a try.

Click here for the counselor farewell song.

How Quickly We Forget

I guess what I can't understand is how quickly we forget.  Yesterday I listened to three people I love and respect go full disclosure.  The first, just watched her family go "Jerry Springer" after the death of her mother.  The second is a widowed grandma locked in a custody battle over her young grandson with her drug addicted daughter.  The third is a young man struggling with suicide, self- harm, and his sexual identity.  One of them remarked, "Is there any family out there that isn't dysfunctional?  Why do we spend so much time trying to act like we aren't?"  Another voiced their frustration with our labels especially our Christian labels.

Why can't we remember how jacked up we really are?  Why can't we remember that we are all flawed searching for answers about who we are, why we are here, and what comes next?  From the Hindu, Muslim, and Atheist to the gay, straight, and bi-sexual; we are all born into circumstances for which we have no control.  We all enter the world as fragile infants desperate for nurture, care, and love.  From our first cry to our last breath, we are human.  From Baghdad to Boston, Syria to Singapore, we are human.  From joy to despair, triumph to tragedy, love to hate, we are human.  I guess what I can't understand is how quickly we forget...

The Space Between

In 2010 CNN selected Narayanan Krishnan as one of it Heroes.  Krishnan is an extraordinary individual who willing traded a promising career as a chef to feed the homeless and forgotten in his hometown of Madurai, India (Watch video).  I'm captivated by Krishnan.  He makes love look simple.  He feeds the hungry.  He bathes the filthy.  He touches the untouchable.  There is a beauty in Krishnan's simplicity that awakens within me something long forgotten.  Deep in my bones a memory like a distant echo calls out, "You were made to create not destroy...You were made to give not take...You were made to love not hate."  

How I wish that echo could become the cry of my heart and the work of my hands, but there's a space between.  There's a space between "meant to be" and "want to be;" a space between intention and hope; a space between possibility and promise.  There's a space between and it is me.  Between the echo and my heart, the echo and my hands is a mess, a jumbled complex of ego, pride, and hubris; a debris field of hatred, lust, and selfishness.

People like Krishnan help me navigate the space between.  Their light penetrates the horizon of my darkness.  They illumine and outline the silhouette of what could be.  Their heart is my hope, and my hope is to one day have their heart.

What the World Needs Now

I'm gonna have to drop the facade.  The world don't need another 4G bigger than your flat screen mounted on your living room wall smart phone.  It don't need another pop star hitting number one on iTunes today drowned out by my Lucky Charms tomorrow (they're magically delicious!).  It don't need another self-help book by Oprah, Dr. Oz, T.D. Jakes, or that dude who squints a lot out in Houston.  It don't need another reality TV show with bachelors, Botox, or bayous.  It don't need another slick politician toeing the party line, name dropping on the networks, turning a blind eye.  It don't need another movie about hauntings, hangovers, or heroes.  Or a gillion-dollar contract for an athlete more doped than a commune in California.  It don't need another tweet, update, or post (Hypocrite City pop. Me!).  It don't need another steeple, stain glass window, worship leader in skinny jeans, or a too old pastor wearing black-framed glasses and a cardigan.

The world needs love...yeah I went there.  It needs love that don't quit.  Love that don't stop. Love that don't sleep, slumber, or slip.  Love that don't tap out, pass out, or give out.  Love that don't fade.  Love that don't run.  Love that don't dip.  Love that don't hesitate, think twice, or flip.  What the world needs now is love.

Gravity

Words possess a certain gravity, a force that pulls, pushes, and shapes.  In Jesus world, words can often take on a gravitational pull (or push) all their own.  For those "inside" Jesus world, words like churched/unchurched, saved/unsaved, reached/unreached seem to pull them more securely behind the walls of the church.  For those "outside" Jesus world, the same words are a repellant pushing them beyond the faintest glimpse of the highest steeple.  The world is so much easier to live in when there is an "us vs. them," an "insider vs. an outsider," a "churched vs. an unchurched," a "reached vs. unreached."  Labels make our retail relationships easier to manage, maneuver, and manipulate.  They insulate us from those God forsaken moments when our assumptions are challenged and our deeply held beliefs are questioned.  Labels keep us upright, grounded, firmly secured within our own gravity.  The only problem is that God so loved the world.  The only catch is that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.  The only hiccup is that through Jesus God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things.  Through Jesus God has already placed himself in relationship with the world.  Every person gay or straight, Republican or Democrat, Christian or Muslim is in relationship to God because of Jesus.  It is because God came into the world wearing skin and bone that we are all in some proximity to him.  The picture of the Bible is not did you recite the by-laws and master the secret handshake; it is did you turn and see him, did you move towards his outstretched arms, did you fall into his loving embrace.  There is a gravity that is undeniable, a gravity that exceeds words, a gravity that can pull us through pain, despair, and even death...it is love...love in the shape of a cross.

Armchair Jesus

I love how we followers of Jesus aka Christians talk about "they," the "world," or the "lost."  We have such confidence.  I love our certainty.  From morality to science to eternal destiny, we got it all figured out.  Our arrogance I mean our self-assurance often reminds me of that guy wearing the team jersey who's a little too old and a little too out of shape but is evidently the most brilliant sports mind in America.  You know the one who is wise beyond his years, experience, and waistline.  Ignore the fact that the height of his athletic achievement involved a red rubber ball and a P.E. teacher.  He's watched enough games, listened to enough sports-talk radio, and managed enough fantasy teams to have a bust in a sports hall of fame.  Play the game?  Why when you can just watch it on tv and eat hot wings all the while.

As I write this a friend of mine is attempting to fall asleep (more like hovering between conscious despair and drug-induced fugue) in the psychiatric hospital he was admitted to a few hours ago.  It only took a month maybe two for his life to come fully unravelled.  His struggles and his traumas are deep-rutted...deep enough...rutted enough that life just ain't worth living.  Armchair Jesus he's desperate for your Christian bookstore cliches.  If only he could be objectified or categorized by you.  Surely there's a book, a sermon, or a Bible verse that could pummel him with judgement.  What would Jesus do?  Nay!  What would Armchair Jesus do?

I think it's time that we who claim to follow Jesus look into our own battered and broken souls and find the humanity that lives in all of us.  I think it's time that we who claim to follow Jesus leverage love instead of legalism.  I think it's time that we who claim to follow Jesus put down the remote, peel off our personalized jerseys, rise up from our armchairs, and pick up a cross.

Making Room

Space.  Just a little bit of space.  Is that asking too much?  Yes I know you know with untold, eternal certainty, but please just a little space.  Some of us don't have your certainty.  Some of us have doubt.  Some of us have failure.  Some of us have scars.  I know you know.  I'm sorry if my doubt threatens you.  I'm sorry if my failure flies in the face of your "faith."  I'm sorry if my scars are too ugly for your holy eyes.  I'm sorry if I'm too human.

I've got it.  Put me in a box.  It'll make you feel better.  You can manage my space.  Just enough room to survive but never thrive.  Go ahead squeeze me in: gay/straight, democrat/republican, Christian/Muslim, white/black, citizen/immigrant...more boxes please!  Wait...don't forget the labels.

I know what your thinking, "Give you space?  You must be out your @&$!?&$ mind!  There's only room for one pilgrim's progress - MINE!"  Sorry I keep forgetting.

Space just might be the final frontier in a world full of boxes.

Knocked "Right" Out

Have you been crushed?  Have you had that moment when the "truth" was crushed out of you?  Maybe I should rephrase.  Has life hit you hard enough and long enough to knock the "right" right out of you?  There is something beautiful about people who have been so broken they no longer feel the need to be right.  Maybe it's their eyes wrinkled by pain not age?   Maybe it's their presence seasoned by countless midnights alone, without hope, cursing the night to sleep.  Maybe it's their well-worn honesty that can't help but admit "I got little figured out and a lot to learn."  There's a peace around such people; an ease, a space that let's you breathe.  Some of us have been holding our breath for ages. It ain't easy breathing with all these masks on.

Enough Already

It only took about 20 hours for God to stick it to me in 2013.  I mean honestly can't I have at least a day of delusion and self deception?  Can't I have at least a day to think I got it all together?  Am I the only one who finds themselves saying to God, "Enough already!"  I'm one flawed cat and I keep discovering how flawed I really am, but every now and then I could use a What about Bob "vacation from my problems."  You ever relish those guilt free years?  Or what about those past victories like "I didn't drink today" or "I wasn't such an a#%hole today."  Now I'm crushed by so little: A harsh word, a judgmental thought, an unsympathetic heart.  Shakespeare placed on the lips of Julius Caesar the words "Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once."  As grand and heroic as Shakespeare's words sound, they fall short of the life devoted to following Jesus.  To follow Jesus turns Shakespeare's quote on its head:  "Cowards never die before their death; the valiant many times before."  Sometimes I just wanna be a coward.  

Newtown

On Friday one of my co-workers came to my office door with tears in her eyes, "They think twenty kids have been killed at an elementary school in Connecticut."  The shock, the horror, the pit-of-my-stomach sorrow.  Eleven days till Christmas.  How many presents bought will remain unopened?  How many hands poised to rip through wrapping were raised in terror?  Lowered, now they rest.  We can't endure such things.  Our minds shards of broken glass.  They thrash, lurch, flail for meaning.  We find a voice rooted beyond our recognition crying out in primordial pain, "What the hell was wrong with that guy?  Why God why?  Why didn't you do something!?"  What we feel is beyond emotion and expression.  Only the yell that shreds our vocal cords or the groan that shatters our heart can approximate.  We have to do something.  We gotta make sense.  Some how...some way - anger, blame, apathy, excuse.  We've gotta push out, away from ourselves. We can't look in.  We dare not look in.  "In" there lurks something in the shadows - insidious, heinous, beastly.  It's too close, too near.  We must deflect.  We must resist, repel, reject.

"Stay back!  'In' your too damn close.  I'm not going to say it again."
It's too late; it's always been too late.

"In" speaks, "You know you're no different.  You're desperately lonely and scared.  You're angry, envious, and apathetic.  You foment lies, embrace deceit, and celebrate violence.  Your heart turns cold, your soul runs dry, and your morality rings false.  You too are human."

The events at Newtown leave me overwrought with emotion and the awareness that "In" my heart are not only the seeds of anguished empathy but the seeds of all that went wrong that tragic day.  Father forgive us for we know and know not what we do.

Commitment Sunday

Indelible,
You write,
Across the landscape of our souls.

Yet we have forgotten.
We wander instead, forgetful.
Our memories fail us.

We suppose the world was ours for the taking.
Oh how we have taken:
Innocence
  Truth
    Justice
      Love
        Life
All of these and more we have taken.

We have taken and returned them:
        Empty
      Hungry
    Starving
  Famished
Oh how we have taken.

But not you, no not you.
You give and give and give.
Some say, "Give till it hurts."

But you give till, "My God My God why have you forsaken me?"
You give till, "Father forgive them for they know not what they do."
You give till, "It is finished!"

Remove the fog of our forgetfulness.
Peel open our clinched fists.
Awaken our slumbering souls.

For there is a promise we have taken,
A promise we have forgotten,
"It is more blessed to give than to receive."

For Jeff

Words, empty
Fractured by the kiln:
Compacted, comminuted, compound.

Half empty?  If only.
Grief, tragedy, loss ricochet,
Movement without meaning.

These tools are useless,
Rusted, worn, stripped.
"I miss you" will never be enough.

Election Day

Locked within the frame of my brokenness,
Pressed by the walls of my vision - myopic, prejudiced, woefully limited.
Just let me live in this glass house with my stacks of stones.
Admit my flaws?  Admit my hypocrisy?  Admit my double standards?
Maybe tomorrow.  Today's election day.