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...