Conscience is the Holy Dog, sent to bite us on the back of the neck that we will fall to the ground before we fall off the cliff. I am not the Holy Dog, but I know his teeth well. I am a voice. A voice for the voiceless. And my voice is strong. So on this I will speak and pray the Dog finds his mark.
As we approach the most important day in the Christian calendar, I am confronted by you every year. You say you love me. You say you are a safe place to be who I am. You encourage me to open my deep pain to you and promise that if I only will, I will find what you have and we will be closer.
But I don't know what you have. I only know what I have, good and bad. So I look at you, knowing you can be good and bad as well. I know that you lie. I see that no one can be what you claim. I even know more of what you supposedly know than you can imagine and by your actions you confirm to me that you do not know it well, if at all.
You, church, are a sham, a show, a club created to draw me in with promises that touch a sore place only to leave me hollow, more wounded, and drained. You are a scam.
You love me? You don't even know me. If you do, then why do you constantly tell me I am wrong?
We are all wrong sometimes? Then why do you never admit it? No I mean candidly, honestly admit it. When I gave my vacation money that you promised to use to win the City and only used it to renovate your own building, which you have subsequently re-renovated. Did you give it back? Did you make amends? Did you admit you were wrong? I never heard another word about it.
When you said you saw something in me and asked me to help because I had a gift, then left me off the schedule and replaced me without a word, was that love, or flattery to fill the gap in your volunteers? I never heard another word about it.
When you built the giant community building that has less people there than before you built it...you know the one. It's just like the 25 others at 25 other churches across the area that stand less than half full, and certainly none have fulfilled their promise to win the City. Were you wrong, or mistaken? When you were offered warning that this would happen and refused to heed it, calling me obstructionist and quencher, were you justified? I never heard another word about it.
When you openly accused me of error for not giving to your church when in fact I give to another, plus several charities that you knew nothing about, did you restore my honor before others?
When you said you had a message from God for me that turned out to be entirely wrong, were you malicious or mistaken? I heard nothing about it after that.
When you said it was a safe place then gave me a look of dire shock and quickly changed the subject as soon as I mentioned my pain, did you provide aid?
When you asked me to join your dinner even though I told you I didn't share your beliefs, assuring me it was just friendly dinner, then started a seminar on evangelism, even asking me for money, then yelled at me for asking why you tried to trick me, did you seek restitution before continuing your ministry?
When you put on a brave face to go on with your service, even though you are not at all in a good place. When you faked emotion on the stage and then collapsed in a huff backstage until the next song. When you told me I can question, can come as I am, that God will reveal, and yet deny me access to your circle unless I sign your covenants. When you subtly enforce the appearance before I've understood the meaning...
For all these things I call you wrong. I call you in error. I call you out.
Doubtless you will say I am ungracious, but in fact, I am far more gracious than you. I know I have problems and I know you do too. Even still I want to be your friend. But when I hurt a friend, I attempt to make it right, not to make excuses. I don't give sermons on how I am imperfect too and need your forgiveness...I apologize directly for what I've done. I try to do better. I take steps to make it right. You on the other hand, seem more about making enemies than friends.
This is what I say for the voiceless.
Who are they? You'll see them Sunday. They look like they're trying to fit in, but can't. They look like they don't quite know how you do things? They have a darkness behind their smile. Some look like you and some look nothing like you. But most of them, you'll only see once. Others, will give you a few more chances. And many of them have a deeper and truer understanding of the good God that you claim to represent. Whitewashed tombs!
I am the voice for the voiceless. The face for the faceless. I will also be there Sunday. I look different from you, so that every time you look at me, you are reminded of them. You'll see that I've heard it before and I'm not buying it. You'll see the sadness in my eyes for you and the tenderness in my eyes for them. And then I'll walk away without a word and go hang out with them. And where we are, there will be Church. Where a genuine affection is shared, there will be Church. Where a fault is known and born for sake of the other, there will be Church. Where they bear with differing opinions for sake of friendship, where one friend supports another, where both try to outdo each other in generosity, where no one shies from the pain of others because they know how bad it hurts...THERE will be CHURCH! Whether you're there or not.
Showing posts with label hypocrisy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hypocrisy. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 12, 2017
Friday, October 4, 2013
Afterburn
My last post was a rant. I won't apologize for it. It needed to be said. But know that nothing on this blog is for show. I post what I am wrestling with. And I've continued to think about this. Many points came out in the last post that I think could bear further explanation...Or rather, I want to talk about my history to help create understanding...see a previous post on that...perhaps then I will make more sense to those who don't get it and those who might think they get it can see how my ideas might differ or align with theirs. Not that anyone is really reading this anyway, so who cares either way. (Sidebar: thanks to the fanbase, I know both of you are reading.)
Where to start? If you say you used to be a Christian, then you never were...or you still are. It's not the kind of thing that can be undone. It's not a system of beliefs. It's not a culture. It's not a bunch of fables and moralisms. It's not a vague idea of the cosmic good. It's not a magic hat that makes life good. It isn't even to simply follow Jesus' teachings. If you left it, then you never really understood it or if you really truly had hope in it and left over some disappointment, then you still are a Christian.
You see, you can call yourself anything. But when a person truly encounters the living God it changes things. Things inside are different. I'm not going to theologize and give you "3 signs you know you're saved" or any nonsense you might have heard before. When you feel that Love call you and recognize who you are hearing, feeling, whatever, you know it. There's no going back. The job of the Church, which is people, not place or organization, is to stand beside you until you do know it. Period.
I was raised in the typical modern Evangelical church. I was fortunate to receive a good deal of training in the Bible. I know it well. I can argue the apologetics. I was actually trained in persuading someone with the gospel...Literally, "if they say this, you counter with this." It wasn't evil. It was simply schooling in the classic sense. I studied the arguments of great theologians and could cite the verses they used to answer heresies, etc. The goal wasn't to brow beat people. We never did that. Just a principle that prudent study and in-depth knowledge of the Bible were weapons for life and salvation. Think Allistair Begg, Bill Bright, Chuck Colson. It's a whole world that you'd have to be in to understand. I still have great respect for these people.
But I was also a depressive kid. Serious for my age, with difficulty understanding the stupid kids around me. Part of it I now know was due to a rare physical condition that was undiscovered then. But part is simply my nature. I began to see the fruitlessness of our shallow cushy lives. I sank slowly into nihilism. I knew that in the end, nothing we did mattered. What would happen would happen. Bad to good people, good to bad people. Indifference to most. Nothing made sense, so there was no meaning. Read Camus' The Stranger to see what life is like from a purely nihilistic perspective. It's terrifying. I lived there. Too apathetic to kill myself. Pointless to strive. Just waiting for something to kill me. I drove my Jeep without doors and no seatbelts. I laid on the double yellow lines of a bend in the road just hoping. I sliced my arms and chest up just to feel anything. I worked at a nursery and dug my arms into rose bushes, carried cactuses with bare arms so the needles would drive in. This was a double benefit. It woke up some sensation in me, and hid the knife slices. I remember once, hanging from the rafters of the stockroom "to clean them". I had swung out about 20 feet and dangled there two stories up with a broom in one hand. I didn't care. I even almost broke a kids neck for cutting in the lunch line. I don't mean we got in a fight. I mean he did it, didn't pay any attention to me, but was standing right in front of me where the line doubled back with back turned. The adrenlaine flowed, my hands clenched and I was reaching for him when I realized what I was about to do and bolted out of there. I ran out of the school and shivered in cold sweats for 20 minutes. I used to smash my head into bathroom mirrors hoping they'd break and bleed my skull. A school custodian caught me once. He didn't know whether to pray for me or run me off. Of course to everyone else, I was the perfect responsible kid. Few saw it, few knew what to do, and few cared as long as I functioned in some fashion.
Somewhere in there I started having spiritual experiences, which you can read about elsewhere on the internet. Just google cavvvp...all you'll get is me. I didn't understand these things and it wrecked me. I could barely hold together. But in that world, Jesus found me. He revealed himself as real in a way that was undeniable. Either I had experienced what I did, or I was psychotic.
I learned that there were other people like me. I met a bunch of the craziest punk people you could ever meet because the guitarist at my church also played music there. In fact, that guitarist had a huge impact on me that I'm sure he doesn't even know. He was one of the few people in that time who didn't judge. Didn't put on a face. He was a former drug addict from a rock band. His wife was a drug addicted stripper. He told me once that he'd seen our Elders' record collections, "and man they got all the same stuff we do." said even as they condemned me for being loose and rebellious. So I began to distinguish the real from the hypocritical. I saw those punk Christians ostracized when they came around. I was told by the church next door to ours that "they didn't dispute my salvation, but only associated with churches of like faith and order" when I asked if their kids wanted to come to a party I was having for our kids.
I began to see that so-called Christians were the bulk of the problem! We were the Pharisees! So I left mainstream churches and joined the punks. We packed the house. Drug addicts, prostitutes, gay, gutter punks, homeless, hippies, new age, transgender, and just plain mentally disturbed. We even had a church meeting in which we decided that someone was always going to bring a jacket just in case one of the strippers or prostitutes showed up in her work clothes! I'm not kidding! The pastor there became a friend and mentor. He was a wreck of a person. God love him and so do I. His warts were apparent and he didn't shy from it. He was saved by grace and openly said what good was in him was from God. And even now I will stand beside him at the Judgement and claim his as a friend, many of whom are there because of him.
We invaded dark and sinister places. We have seen God part crowds in Ybor, open dance floors in clubs. I once sat in a wiccan coffee house that was run by not the nice kind of wiccan. I have not experienced more spiritual warfare than in that place. I could feel the oppression as we prayed for protection of my friends and others in the place...and this wizard was fighting us hard to drive us out and claim these people. I could see it in his face. He knew we were opposing him and neither of us said a word or gave an overt sign. Just sat there silently praying while drinking some cheap brew.
But things change. People are flawed. Things run their course. And this did. People were lost. Schisms happened. Eventually we joined a friend's church. I hit it off with this pastor who is still my mentor and spiritual director. But I watched as several iterations of forcing two very different types of people together failed, leaving pain in their wake. It wasn't for lack of trying. The "normal" people just weren't comfortable with the grittiness of the others. They couldn't see us as partners. We were always projects. The punks cloistered and refused to integrate because they knew they weren't wanted. No one likes to be looked at like that, even unintentionally! And emotionally damaged people like many of these can't actually even handle it. It crushes them, so they drive away good intentions and close the circle even tighter.
Time and time again, I've seen it. Mainstreamers get some idea that they're edgy or cool and try to step into a world they don't get. I have seen some notable exceptions. But they are few and far between.
And not all of this type look weird on the outside. Many would fit right in. You eat, shop, and work right beside them. I've even seen relatively normal people who are starting to discover this real, honest, classless faith continually wounded and turned away by churches. The churches seek the majority in the "war for souls" and don't have time for the complaints, the dissenters, the ones who fall through the cracks. Acceptable losses. I emphatically stand up and defy that mindset. No, never is one lost, not any are acceptable. The Good Shepherd leaves the 99 to find the one. I say the 99 should be looking too! People will conflict. But resources are probably there if you'd open your mind to look for them and step aside when it isn't you. Why not partner instead of compete? There's churches on every corner and they all act like they're the only one in the wilderness of lost people. Here's an example of what I mean:
A wiccan couple came in to a mainstream church I worked at and introduced themselves as such. Now why would they do that? If they were just checking it out, they would simple come in like anyone else. No one need know. The reason they did it is because they were testing. They wanted something and wanted to see how they were received. I told people, come get me when they get here. I'll talk to them. I know what they believe and can welcome them. I even pulled a little Paul and cited my qualifications to do so. Of course, I wasn't worthy to do that. Instead some "better qualified" pastor talked to them and they never came back. No doubt he comforts himself that you can't win them all and they just must not have been ready. Wow! You sound like me. I thought you were Evangelical? If there's a tool in your tool box you have to make use of it! That's being a good steward, dude! Leverage everything, remember that sermon? I even told you I was there so there's no excuse. You just blew it, they could be going to hell because of it.
Thankfully, I don't believe it is up to us to save anyone. So I can easily forgive this man and know that God is far greater than our feebleness. He doesn't depend on us. He doesn't. But by the standard you mete, it is meted to you. This man's own theology condemns him!
So where does this long ramble leave us? I am a bridge. I am an interpreter. I can communicate across boundaries. This is my gift. I am pitbull, donkey stubborn and will not back down from what is right. This is my gift. I can love and forgive, but will not participate in what is not right. I speak for my flock of black sheep. I'm not the shepherd. That's Jesus. I'm just a sheepdog, and I'm not alone. If anyone comes after my sheep, I'll bite. If anyone inadvertently hurts my sheep, you'll hear me bark. And if you're sitting out there lost, hurt, fending off the wild beasts, or being pushed around by the prettier sheep, just make what noise you can...I'm coming...and I won't leave until the Shepherd finds you.
Where to start? If you say you used to be a Christian, then you never were...or you still are. It's not the kind of thing that can be undone. It's not a system of beliefs. It's not a culture. It's not a bunch of fables and moralisms. It's not a vague idea of the cosmic good. It's not a magic hat that makes life good. It isn't even to simply follow Jesus' teachings. If you left it, then you never really understood it or if you really truly had hope in it and left over some disappointment, then you still are a Christian.
You see, you can call yourself anything. But when a person truly encounters the living God it changes things. Things inside are different. I'm not going to theologize and give you "3 signs you know you're saved" or any nonsense you might have heard before. When you feel that Love call you and recognize who you are hearing, feeling, whatever, you know it. There's no going back. The job of the Church, which is people, not place or organization, is to stand beside you until you do know it. Period.
I was raised in the typical modern Evangelical church. I was fortunate to receive a good deal of training in the Bible. I know it well. I can argue the apologetics. I was actually trained in persuading someone with the gospel...Literally, "if they say this, you counter with this." It wasn't evil. It was simply schooling in the classic sense. I studied the arguments of great theologians and could cite the verses they used to answer heresies, etc. The goal wasn't to brow beat people. We never did that. Just a principle that prudent study and in-depth knowledge of the Bible were weapons for life and salvation. Think Allistair Begg, Bill Bright, Chuck Colson. It's a whole world that you'd have to be in to understand. I still have great respect for these people.
But I was also a depressive kid. Serious for my age, with difficulty understanding the stupid kids around me. Part of it I now know was due to a rare physical condition that was undiscovered then. But part is simply my nature. I began to see the fruitlessness of our shallow cushy lives. I sank slowly into nihilism. I knew that in the end, nothing we did mattered. What would happen would happen. Bad to good people, good to bad people. Indifference to most. Nothing made sense, so there was no meaning. Read Camus' The Stranger to see what life is like from a purely nihilistic perspective. It's terrifying. I lived there. Too apathetic to kill myself. Pointless to strive. Just waiting for something to kill me. I drove my Jeep without doors and no seatbelts. I laid on the double yellow lines of a bend in the road just hoping. I sliced my arms and chest up just to feel anything. I worked at a nursery and dug my arms into rose bushes, carried cactuses with bare arms so the needles would drive in. This was a double benefit. It woke up some sensation in me, and hid the knife slices. I remember once, hanging from the rafters of the stockroom "to clean them". I had swung out about 20 feet and dangled there two stories up with a broom in one hand. I didn't care. I even almost broke a kids neck for cutting in the lunch line. I don't mean we got in a fight. I mean he did it, didn't pay any attention to me, but was standing right in front of me where the line doubled back with back turned. The adrenlaine flowed, my hands clenched and I was reaching for him when I realized what I was about to do and bolted out of there. I ran out of the school and shivered in cold sweats for 20 minutes. I used to smash my head into bathroom mirrors hoping they'd break and bleed my skull. A school custodian caught me once. He didn't know whether to pray for me or run me off. Of course to everyone else, I was the perfect responsible kid. Few saw it, few knew what to do, and few cared as long as I functioned in some fashion.
Somewhere in there I started having spiritual experiences, which you can read about elsewhere on the internet. Just google cavvvp...all you'll get is me. I didn't understand these things and it wrecked me. I could barely hold together. But in that world, Jesus found me. He revealed himself as real in a way that was undeniable. Either I had experienced what I did, or I was psychotic.
I learned that there were other people like me. I met a bunch of the craziest punk people you could ever meet because the guitarist at my church also played music there. In fact, that guitarist had a huge impact on me that I'm sure he doesn't even know. He was one of the few people in that time who didn't judge. Didn't put on a face. He was a former drug addict from a rock band. His wife was a drug addicted stripper. He told me once that he'd seen our Elders' record collections, "and man they got all the same stuff we do." said even as they condemned me for being loose and rebellious. So I began to distinguish the real from the hypocritical. I saw those punk Christians ostracized when they came around. I was told by the church next door to ours that "they didn't dispute my salvation, but only associated with churches of like faith and order" when I asked if their kids wanted to come to a party I was having for our kids.
I began to see that so-called Christians were the bulk of the problem! We were the Pharisees! So I left mainstream churches and joined the punks. We packed the house. Drug addicts, prostitutes, gay, gutter punks, homeless, hippies, new age, transgender, and just plain mentally disturbed. We even had a church meeting in which we decided that someone was always going to bring a jacket just in case one of the strippers or prostitutes showed up in her work clothes! I'm not kidding! The pastor there became a friend and mentor. He was a wreck of a person. God love him and so do I. His warts were apparent and he didn't shy from it. He was saved by grace and openly said what good was in him was from God. And even now I will stand beside him at the Judgement and claim his as a friend, many of whom are there because of him.
We invaded dark and sinister places. We have seen God part crowds in Ybor, open dance floors in clubs. I once sat in a wiccan coffee house that was run by not the nice kind of wiccan. I have not experienced more spiritual warfare than in that place. I could feel the oppression as we prayed for protection of my friends and others in the place...and this wizard was fighting us hard to drive us out and claim these people. I could see it in his face. He knew we were opposing him and neither of us said a word or gave an overt sign. Just sat there silently praying while drinking some cheap brew.
But things change. People are flawed. Things run their course. And this did. People were lost. Schisms happened. Eventually we joined a friend's church. I hit it off with this pastor who is still my mentor and spiritual director. But I watched as several iterations of forcing two very different types of people together failed, leaving pain in their wake. It wasn't for lack of trying. The "normal" people just weren't comfortable with the grittiness of the others. They couldn't see us as partners. We were always projects. The punks cloistered and refused to integrate because they knew they weren't wanted. No one likes to be looked at like that, even unintentionally! And emotionally damaged people like many of these can't actually even handle it. It crushes them, so they drive away good intentions and close the circle even tighter.
Time and time again, I've seen it. Mainstreamers get some idea that they're edgy or cool and try to step into a world they don't get. I have seen some notable exceptions. But they are few and far between.
And not all of this type look weird on the outside. Many would fit right in. You eat, shop, and work right beside them. I've even seen relatively normal people who are starting to discover this real, honest, classless faith continually wounded and turned away by churches. The churches seek the majority in the "war for souls" and don't have time for the complaints, the dissenters, the ones who fall through the cracks. Acceptable losses. I emphatically stand up and defy that mindset. No, never is one lost, not any are acceptable. The Good Shepherd leaves the 99 to find the one. I say the 99 should be looking too! People will conflict. But resources are probably there if you'd open your mind to look for them and step aside when it isn't you. Why not partner instead of compete? There's churches on every corner and they all act like they're the only one in the wilderness of lost people. Here's an example of what I mean:
A wiccan couple came in to a mainstream church I worked at and introduced themselves as such. Now why would they do that? If they were just checking it out, they would simple come in like anyone else. No one need know. The reason they did it is because they were testing. They wanted something and wanted to see how they were received. I told people, come get me when they get here. I'll talk to them. I know what they believe and can welcome them. I even pulled a little Paul and cited my qualifications to do so. Of course, I wasn't worthy to do that. Instead some "better qualified" pastor talked to them and they never came back. No doubt he comforts himself that you can't win them all and they just must not have been ready. Wow! You sound like me. I thought you were Evangelical? If there's a tool in your tool box you have to make use of it! That's being a good steward, dude! Leverage everything, remember that sermon? I even told you I was there so there's no excuse. You just blew it, they could be going to hell because of it.
Thankfully, I don't believe it is up to us to save anyone. So I can easily forgive this man and know that God is far greater than our feebleness. He doesn't depend on us. He doesn't. But by the standard you mete, it is meted to you. This man's own theology condemns him!
So where does this long ramble leave us? I am a bridge. I am an interpreter. I can communicate across boundaries. This is my gift. I am pitbull, donkey stubborn and will not back down from what is right. This is my gift. I can love and forgive, but will not participate in what is not right. I speak for my flock of black sheep. I'm not the shepherd. That's Jesus. I'm just a sheepdog, and I'm not alone. If anyone comes after my sheep, I'll bite. If anyone inadvertently hurts my sheep, you'll hear me bark. And if you're sitting out there lost, hurt, fending off the wild beasts, or being pushed around by the prettier sheep, just make what noise you can...I'm coming...and I won't leave until the Shepherd finds you.
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