From the Mouths of Babes
Two young boys at a Montessori school were involved in a serious discussion about whether "bad guys" existed or not.
In Montessori teaching, they don't let the young children play bad guy/good guy at school, or emulate superheroes or play with guns.
One of the boys insisted to the other that "bad guys did NOT exist!"
The other boy was saying "they DID exist," very adamantly.
The boy who believed in bad guys turned around and said to his teacher, "Bad guys do exist. My dad told me."
The teacher responded, "what did he tell you?"
"Well," he answered, "my dad said a person stole money from a bank and he was a BAD GUY!"
By this time the whole room was listening intently. Their teacher was conflicted: will I admit that bad guys exist or not? she thought.
"Are bad guys real?" the disbelieving little boy asked.
The teacher answered, "I think sometimes there are people who make bad decisions, or bad actions, or bad choices... but that does not necessarily make them a BAD GUY... it means they made a very bad choice..."
Ellie, a three-and-a-half year old girl who was listening jumped up: "Yes! Like George Bush!"
please read more about my thoughts on the evolution of Christianity at EmergingChristianity...
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Wednesday
Falling From Grace...
We found out recently that the youth pastor at a church my wife once attended quite a few years ago was found with exploitative and pornographic materials on his work computer.
As this scandal unfolds, unconnected pieces from years past - unanswered questions, puzzling circumstances (unnamed abuses and assaults in a small, rural town) - begin to fit together and paint an even darker image.
That night, Jen wept and I choked back tears and nausea. “I trusted him,” Jen said in shock.
He was a friend and confidant to her - a good natured peer, 25 years old. I didn’t know him well, but had liked him when I met him.
So I don’t really know what to feel. I’m angry, as young ladies close to us have been victimized not only by this sad predator but by a church that allowed a young man to lead a co-ed ministry without proper supervision or accountability.
But I’ve seen the same at churches I’ve attended. This type of tragic negligence is nothing new…
Forgive me while this anger burns a little while.
...please read more about my thoughts on the evolution of Christianity at EmergingChristianity...
As this scandal unfolds, unconnected pieces from years past - unanswered questions, puzzling circumstances (unnamed abuses and assaults in a small, rural town) - begin to fit together and paint an even darker image.
That night, Jen wept and I choked back tears and nausea. “I trusted him,” Jen said in shock.
He was a friend and confidant to her - a good natured peer, 25 years old. I didn’t know him well, but had liked him when I met him.
So I don’t really know what to feel. I’m angry, as young ladies close to us have been victimized not only by this sad predator but by a church that allowed a young man to lead a co-ed ministry without proper supervision or accountability.
But I’ve seen the same at churches I’ve attended. This type of tragic negligence is nothing new…
Forgive me while this anger burns a little while.
All have turned aside, they have together become corrupt; there is no one who does good, not even one.
Psalm 14:3
...please read more about my thoughts on the evolution of Christianity at EmergingChristianity...
Monday
Having "The Armor of God" Crammed Down My Throat...
My grandmother turned 80 on Sunday and our family threw her a huge party in celebration. She married the Saturday night prior - ending 45 years of single living!
My wife and I stayed in a hotel in Portland to be near for both events. My relatives came from all over, including cousins and an aunt and uncle from Florida. I hadn’t seen any of them in more than 12 years so I had anticipated the weekend with both excitement and reluctance. Excitment for my grandma, with whom I’ve always been close. Reluctance, because my family (like everyone else’s) tends to be a little strange and somewhat exhausting.
I was pleasantly surprised that things were going smoothly by the end of the party on Sunday. The only oddity was the prognostication from my aunt - I guess you could call her a “prophetess” of sorts - who proclaimed (in thick Scottish accent) that my wife and I were to be co-ministers in a future endeavor… that she saw a great pastoral call on my wife’s life in particular. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy hearing that - but I suppose it wasn’t particularly earth-shattering either.
Then my male cousin David approached me. David is a year older than me, and I’ve often heard stories of his mishaps: burglarly, drug use, misdemeanors here and there… apparently his Pentecostal parents had gotten through to him as he began our first and last conversation that weekend, early Sunday evening.
“So, you’re in Seminary?” David asked.
“Yes, I’ve been going to school for a little over a year now.”
“Wow, I sure would have never predicted that for you,” he said. I couldn’t tell if it was a slam or not - especially since he was the one who’d always been in trouble.
“Yeah,” I answered, “I guess God takes us on different roads than we usually expect.”
“What denomination are you affiliated with?” He asked.
“Not any, really,” I said, “I’m just coming down out of a Pentecostal church - a little burned out.”
That’s where it got weird. “‘Cause I’m leading my own small group on Tuesday nights at the Assembly of God,” David launched in, “There’s a powerful annointing there. Man, when we get going, the Holy Spirit just comes down in power and things happen. We step out onto the street, not alone, not two or three, but we march seven or ten soldiers deep.” Soldiers? He continued, “And we don’t mess around. We pray the blood of Jesus and we wear the full armor of God. If I’ve got a brother who’s not carrying his sword, then I say: brother, I can’t roll with you because you don’t have a weapon against the enemy. And if one of my brothers doesn’t have his breastplate of righteousness on, I gotta say: yo, I can’t roll with that because you don’t got your breastplate of righteousness on. You’re not wearing the full armor of God!”
With each declaration, David is inching close and closer into my personal space. He’s taller and larger than me - about 6′5″ - and I can feel his breath as he speaks. I am already feeling both attacked and placed on the defense, though I don’t understand why or what his motivation is.
He’s still talking, “Because ours is not a battle of flesh and blood but against principalities - you know - principalities and powers…”
I’m frowning because I don’t like his tone or his language (just the kind of thing I’ve been trying to get away from) but somehow I’m nodding my head a little - not in agreement, but because I just can’t help wanting to affirm in some way anyone who’s talking to me - even if I’m just affirmng that I’m hearing their words. I don’t know if that was egging him on or not.
“… And it’s time that the church took back ground. And to do that, our men have to stand up and take leadership in the church and in the home again…” Now I can’t let him keep talking.
I interupt: “Yeah, I don’t really agree with that, David. There are a lot of historical, cultural, situational and ecclesiological contexts that I don’t think you’re taking into account there. I don’t think we’re going to agree, and that’s ok - that’s why we have so many denominations and sects within the church. Because people don’t agree on everything, even Christians. What I’ll stand behind is what is good. I believe that whatever is good and whatever is true comes from Jesus - even in surprising places…” and I was cut off by the Scottish aunt - David’s mother - who was pulling him up in front of the room to do a “Highland Jig” while the bagpiper played (oh, did I mention there was a piper?).
My wife, Jen, was standing close by. She eyed me intensely and asked, “Do you want to go?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m exhausted.” And I was. We ducked out the backdoor without saying goodbye.
I felt a little bad. I can handle angry atheists, agnostics - even Wiccans - any day of the week. But I still don’t have the stamina to go many rounds with a feverish fundimentalist family member.
please read more about my thoughts on the evolution of Christianity at Emerging Christianity...
My wife and I stayed in a hotel in Portland to be near for both events. My relatives came from all over, including cousins and an aunt and uncle from Florida. I hadn’t seen any of them in more than 12 years so I had anticipated the weekend with both excitement and reluctance. Excitment for my grandma, with whom I’ve always been close. Reluctance, because my family (like everyone else’s) tends to be a little strange and somewhat exhausting.
I was pleasantly surprised that things were going smoothly by the end of the party on Sunday. The only oddity was the prognostication from my aunt - I guess you could call her a “prophetess” of sorts - who proclaimed (in thick Scottish accent) that my wife and I were to be co-ministers in a future endeavor… that she saw a great pastoral call on my wife’s life in particular. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy hearing that - but I suppose it wasn’t particularly earth-shattering either.
Then my male cousin David approached me. David is a year older than me, and I’ve often heard stories of his mishaps: burglarly, drug use, misdemeanors here and there… apparently his Pentecostal parents had gotten through to him as he began our first and last conversation that weekend, early Sunday evening.
“So, you’re in Seminary?” David asked.
“Yes, I’ve been going to school for a little over a year now.”
“Wow, I sure would have never predicted that for you,” he said. I couldn’t tell if it was a slam or not - especially since he was the one who’d always been in trouble.
“Yeah,” I answered, “I guess God takes us on different roads than we usually expect.”
“What denomination are you affiliated with?” He asked.
“Not any, really,” I said, “I’m just coming down out of a Pentecostal church - a little burned out.”
That’s where it got weird. “‘Cause I’m leading my own small group on Tuesday nights at the Assembly of God,” David launched in, “There’s a powerful annointing there. Man, when we get going, the Holy Spirit just comes down in power and things happen. We step out onto the street, not alone, not two or three, but we march seven or ten soldiers deep.” Soldiers? He continued, “And we don’t mess around. We pray the blood of Jesus and we wear the full armor of God. If I’ve got a brother who’s not carrying his sword, then I say: brother, I can’t roll with you because you don’t have a weapon against the enemy. And if one of my brothers doesn’t have his breastplate of righteousness on, I gotta say: yo, I can’t roll with that because you don’t got your breastplate of righteousness on. You’re not wearing the full armor of God!”
With each declaration, David is inching close and closer into my personal space. He’s taller and larger than me - about 6′5″ - and I can feel his breath as he speaks. I am already feeling both attacked and placed on the defense, though I don’t understand why or what his motivation is.
He’s still talking, “Because ours is not a battle of flesh and blood but against principalities - you know - principalities and powers…”
I’m frowning because I don’t like his tone or his language (just the kind of thing I’ve been trying to get away from) but somehow I’m nodding my head a little - not in agreement, but because I just can’t help wanting to affirm in some way anyone who’s talking to me - even if I’m just affirmng that I’m hearing their words. I don’t know if that was egging him on or not.
“… And it’s time that the church took back ground. And to do that, our men have to stand up and take leadership in the church and in the home again…” Now I can’t let him keep talking.
I interupt: “Yeah, I don’t really agree with that, David. There are a lot of historical, cultural, situational and ecclesiological contexts that I don’t think you’re taking into account there. I don’t think we’re going to agree, and that’s ok - that’s why we have so many denominations and sects within the church. Because people don’t agree on everything, even Christians. What I’ll stand behind is what is good. I believe that whatever is good and whatever is true comes from Jesus - even in surprising places…” and I was cut off by the Scottish aunt - David’s mother - who was pulling him up in front of the room to do a “Highland Jig” while the bagpiper played (oh, did I mention there was a piper?).
My wife, Jen, was standing close by. She eyed me intensely and asked, “Do you want to go?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m exhausted.” And I was. We ducked out the backdoor without saying goodbye.
I felt a little bad. I can handle angry atheists, agnostics - even Wiccans - any day of the week. But I still don’t have the stamina to go many rounds with a feverish fundimentalist family member.
please read more about my thoughts on the evolution of Christianity at Emerging Christianity...
Saturday
Ordinary Attempts...
An online friend of mine, Bruce Logue, is running a website called "Ordinary Attempts." Ordinary Attempts are stories chronicling a non-traditional approaches to evangelism — ordinary activities that people are already doing. Not a program, pitch or presentation, but a simple shift in how we view interacting with the world.
OrdinaryAttempts.org was born out of a desire to redefine evangelism – to make it doable for ordinary people.
Most of my own Ordinary Attempts probably sound churchy to some because I’m a seminary student. For me though, it’s very much a casual part of who I am.
Most people I meet will ask me what I do. I usually tell them my career (banker) and that I’m a seminary student at the same time. Why? Not to be pretentious, but because I’ve found that most everyday people on the street are FASCINATED by religion - particularly Christianity.
As soon as I say I’m a seminary student, I have them hooked because the first thing they want to know is: “are you one of those Right-Wing, War Supporting, Gay-Hating, Radical Fundamentalists?” They want to know whether or not I'm "safe."
I love telling them that I grew up in Conservative Christianity but have found I don’t agree with very much in the way of how they interpret Jesus. I tell them I think Christianity has done a lot of awful things and that I hate what a lot of people do and say in the name of Jesus.
“Then why are you in seminary?” They ask.
“Because I want to change that.” If I know they’re not Christian, I will often add, “A lot of that change can come by listening to folks like you.” Wow! What an amazing response I see in their eyes!
I experienced this just the other night at my wife’s workplace. The Montessori School had an open house, and I got to talking with a couple who relocated from Southern California. She was an agnostic and he was a backsliden Sikh!
We had a grand old time talking. He showed us an amazing picture of himself from the 1960s - he looked like a Pakistani Hindi with his turban and gigantic, jungle-like beard. That night though, in Corvallis Oregon, he looked like a regular 50 year-old white suburban American.
"I was so attracted to the practices and disciplines of that lifestyle," he said, "After attending a few yoga classes, I thought: I could really live this. After that, I traveled all over the world. It's really a beautiful religion. But then I started to realize I was praying less and less - meditating less and less - and I'd better either get disciplined or get out. I got out and started a family."
At the end, I thanked him for sharing his story, because our stories are gifts. We learn from each other. We can give those gifts, or hold them inside, greedily clinging to something that does no good when left unshared.
please read more about my thoughts on the evolution of Christianity at http://emergingchristianity.blogspot.com
OrdinaryAttempts.org was born out of a desire to redefine evangelism – to make it doable for ordinary people.
Most of my own Ordinary Attempts probably sound churchy to some because I’m a seminary student. For me though, it’s very much a casual part of who I am.
Most people I meet will ask me what I do. I usually tell them my career (banker) and that I’m a seminary student at the same time. Why? Not to be pretentious, but because I’ve found that most everyday people on the street are FASCINATED by religion - particularly Christianity.
As soon as I say I’m a seminary student, I have them hooked because the first thing they want to know is: “are you one of those Right-Wing, War Supporting, Gay-Hating, Radical Fundamentalists?” They want to know whether or not I'm "safe."
I love telling them that I grew up in Conservative Christianity but have found I don’t agree with very much in the way of how they interpret Jesus. I tell them I think Christianity has done a lot of awful things and that I hate what a lot of people do and say in the name of Jesus.
“Then why are you in seminary?” They ask.
“Because I want to change that.” If I know they’re not Christian, I will often add, “A lot of that change can come by listening to folks like you.” Wow! What an amazing response I see in their eyes!
I experienced this just the other night at my wife’s workplace. The Montessori School had an open house, and I got to talking with a couple who relocated from Southern California. She was an agnostic and he was a backsliden Sikh!
We had a grand old time talking. He showed us an amazing picture of himself from the 1960s - he looked like a Pakistani Hindi with his turban and gigantic, jungle-like beard. That night though, in Corvallis Oregon, he looked like a regular 50 year-old white suburban American.
"I was so attracted to the practices and disciplines of that lifestyle," he said, "After attending a few yoga classes, I thought: I could really live this. After that, I traveled all over the world. It's really a beautiful religion. But then I started to realize I was praying less and less - meditating less and less - and I'd better either get disciplined or get out. I got out and started a family."
At the end, I thanked him for sharing his story, because our stories are gifts. We learn from each other. We can give those gifts, or hold them inside, greedily clinging to something that does no good when left unshared.
please read more about my thoughts on the evolution of Christianity at http://emergingchristianity.blogspot.com
Wednesday
Lance Bass is Gay...
Look out, I'm turning into a blogger sensationalist like Perez Hilton!
But seriously, Lance Bass coming out of the closet today will doubtless have impact and ramifications related to Christianity and the church.
Why? Because, as any N'Sync fan knows, Lance Bass was always the most vocally Christian of any of the boys. Open an N'Sync album cover and read his extended writings on faith, God and Jesus Christ!
What concerns me is that Bass will take a lot of angry, ungracious fire for his lifestyle and decision to be open about it. In fact, several of his quotes have already dealt directly with his faith: he is still a Christian, and has personally reconciled his Christianity with God.
Now regardless what you think about homosexuality, I hope you share in my prayers that the Church will somehow manage to be more gracious, loving and compassionate than it usually is about such matters, and if nothing else - keep silent. We dont' need picket signs. We don't need pastors decrying his potential influence on the youth of America (not like Lance Bass or N'Sync have any pop equity leftover from early 2001) .
Lance has made a decision. And a prayerful one. I pray he finds happiness and wholeness, and in friendship, I would say the same thing to him that I would say to any friends, gay or straight, Christian or non-Christian: "Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness." We're all on a journey here, and none of us living have crossed the finish line.
But lookout. I don't expect public Christian figures to be particularly loving.
please read more about my thoughts on the evolution of Christianity at http://emergingchristianity.blogspot.com
But seriously, Lance Bass coming out of the closet today will doubtless have impact and ramifications related to Christianity and the church.
Why? Because, as any N'Sync fan knows, Lance Bass was always the most vocally Christian of any of the boys. Open an N'Sync album cover and read his extended writings on faith, God and Jesus Christ!
What concerns me is that Bass will take a lot of angry, ungracious fire for his lifestyle and decision to be open about it. In fact, several of his quotes have already dealt directly with his faith: he is still a Christian, and has personally reconciled his Christianity with God.
Now regardless what you think about homosexuality, I hope you share in my prayers that the Church will somehow manage to be more gracious, loving and compassionate than it usually is about such matters, and if nothing else - keep silent. We dont' need picket signs. We don't need pastors decrying his potential influence on the youth of America (not like Lance Bass or N'Sync have any pop equity leftover from early 2001) .
Lance has made a decision. And a prayerful one. I pray he finds happiness and wholeness, and in friendship, I would say the same thing to him that I would say to any friends, gay or straight, Christian or non-Christian: "Seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness." We're all on a journey here, and none of us living have crossed the finish line.
But lookout. I don't expect public Christian figures to be particularly loving.
please read more about my thoughts on the evolution of Christianity at http://emergingchristianity.blogspot.com
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