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About Timothy Brown

A pastor. A writer. A dreamer. Occasionally a beer brewer.

One Thought on God and Suffering

For some reason my entry “5where-is-god-suffering Phrases I Think Christians Shouldn’t Say” is getting a lot of traffic again.

And I’m getting a lot of push back because of my thoughts on suffering and “God’s plan.”

So, in an attempt to clarify it all, let me say this:

I will not endorse the notion that it is God’s plan that people get cancer.  I will not endorse the notion that it is part of God’s plan, specific or otherwise, that children die by gunfire.  I will not endorse that Hiroshima was part of God’s big plan.

I cannot do any of these things because I have sat by too many bedsides and buried too many children, even in my short pastorate.

Now, have I seen beauty in death?  Absolutely.  But have I seen senselessness?  Senselessness that goes far beyond any sort of platitude like “God’s wisdom is foolishness” or any other attempt to bend the words of Scripture to make meaning out of the meaningless?

Damn right.

And that’s the thing.  Such theologies that try to put God at the helm of these tragedies or, even worse, try to say that God is a passive bystander, are attempts to make concrete meaning out of meaninglessness.

We all make meaning out of life.  We all do; there’s no escaping it.  I have heard and known people calling their disabilities beautiful tools they use to learn about life.  I have heard people say that the death of their child was instructive for them.

I do not deny that these things are true.

What I deny is that a particular truth was intended to be drawn from them.  What I deny is that a particular truth was in the Divine mind as those tragic events happened.

What I deny is that God is in the dirty pain business.

Now, I think that God has caused me pain; causes me pain. I experience the pain of being wrong all the time (perhaps in this instance, too?).  I experience the pain of having my ego subverted, my best-laid intentions crumbled, my pride blown away, my intellect shattered by a God who speaks a word of grace to me when my greatest desire is for retribution.

But I do not think that God has caused my car accident so that I learn to drive better.  I may thank God for an accident that taught me a life lesson, but I don’t think God was passively watching it.

I think God was in the pit of fear and hell that I was in while going through it.

And that is a theology of the cross that, I think, truly speaks to the crucifixion story and the Good News of God.

The crucifixion story is one that speaks of Jesus’ suffering not as something apart from humanity, but a part of humanity.  I am not one to believe that God caused the crucifixion for some atonement.  I think that when you act and talk like Jesus, you die for it because our power systems (even the power systems that try to make sense out of the senseless) don’t like it.

So, do I think that it is all part of God’s plan that your foot was amputated?  That your brother or sister died in the Iraq war?  That your father has prostate cancer?

No.  I don’t. And we can quibble about philosophical categories for God, and whether God knows all, can do all, is everywhere…all of that.  We can quibble until the end of time, and I don’t think we’ll be any closer to the truth than if we just allowed God to say, “I’m not going to make sense out of senselessness…I’m going to make resurrection.”

Then maybe we can learn to die to our need to make sense of it all, and be resurrected as people who can hold tension well…a tension taught to us by a life that includes suffering, joy, and all in between.

New Years Resolution

Today, just a bit of original poetry.

indexNew Years Resolution

Well 2013,

(or should I call you “Twentythirteen”?)

you had a good run.

The events, memories, touchstones,

too many to now recount

even if I had the desire to recount them all,

were all leading up to this one moment: the clock striking twelve.

And, sure, people who call themselves religious made fools of themselves this past year

as they did in 2012

and even as far back as year 1

(and before then),

but I expect nothing less.  Fear seems not to know that all things can be new

in the new year,

and it continually shows up, right on time, staying long past the party is over, waking up in a haze on your living room floor expecting breakfast.

Fear does that.

Fear of the other, of difference,

fear that “not being right” means failure.

Fear has survived too many years in a row, even past the angel’s cries of “Fear not.”

Fear doesn’t take a hint.

For 2014, I wonder if we can all make this resolution:

Let us hold that someone else’s opinions

beliefs

thoughts

convictions

aren’t threatening to me.  We need not fear them.

Let us instead hold that the only threatening thing in this world is indifference.

And then, maybe, we’ll get somewhere.

2013, you had a good run.  But sometimes the clown car took over the religious circus.

2014, here’s to hoping that you have within you

(and you do, as the incarnation makes clear)

the ability to have it done differently.

Blessed New Year

pt…

 

“Power Sucks” or “Sing the Magnificat Carefully”

So, I’m going to try my best not to join the chorus Phenom-Power-631of people lamenting Joel Osteen and Joyce Meyers and Beth Moore and the like.  Well, at least not too much.

Needless to say I think they’re all full of it; I don’t think I need to point out to you why that is in any great detail.

But too many in the church are calling them “false prophets” and other such crazy names.  Frankly, I think that’s giving them too much credit.  We shouldn’t call them prophets at all because their message isn’t, in the least, prophetic.  They’re just people trying to make a buck, I think.

No really, I think that’s all they are.  They’re great showmen.  They’re good speakers (not great speakers, mind you).  And they’re good at organizing other people around them.  Natural leaders.

But they’re not prophets.

To be a prophet, to speak prophetically in the historical sense, was to speak truth with some boldness.  It was to speak in such a way that the very powers and systems of the world were shaken, afraid of your message.  This is why Paul speaks of teaching and preaching, “boldly.”  He does so in such a way that the very powers were afraid.

Hence why he ended up in jail so often.  Prophets usually ended up dead because of their message.

I’m pretty certain Olsteen, Meyers, Moore, Dollar, Jakes, and basically the personalities of channels 460-480 on my cable package will end up in jail.

For tax fraud.

Not for speaking too boldly against the powers of this world.

See, their message is one of power: God wants you to be powerful.

Powerful bank accounts.  Powerful influence.  Prestige.  Powerful enough to look at a house and “claim it” before you can afford it (aka “The Joel Osteen Story” coming to a Lifetime time-slot near you).

Powerful enough to actually believe that Living Proof Ministries would be an attractive name for a company that publishes “educational material” written by someone with no scholarly training in Biblical history or interpretation (that’s Beth Moore’s ministry outfit, in case you were wondering).

I need the living proof that she’s qualified to write material…

Here’s where the cognitive dissonance comes for this Christian: Jesus, in his life, in his birth, in his death, in his interactions, was not powerful by any worldly definition of power.

In fact, the song we’ll be singing in my faith community on Sunday, The Magnificat (Luke 1:46-56), talks about how God throws down the mighty from their thrones, fills up the hungry but sends the rich away empty, scatters the proud, and causes all sorts of ruckus for those who play by the power rules of the world.

Look, Jesus was a homeless man, born to an unwed mother.  He had no job, lived off of the kindness of others, and died when he was a young man in the most horrible way possible.

By all accounts, Jesus was a failure.

And apparently Meyers’ and Olsteen’s and Jakes’ message to Jesus would be, “God’s got a blessing just waiting for you!  Just wait and see!  God doesn’t put up with people who are down on themselves, who don’t think they can. You are powerful in God!”

To which Jesus replies, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Power sucks.  It sucks the life out of us.  It sucks the message out of the church.  It just plain sucks.

Look, I’m not down on wealth or self-esteem.  God hasn’t made you to be a Debbie Downer (though God did make Rachel Dratch for that role).  Nor has God made you to be scraping by economically (though, I think there is such a thing as having too much).

I’m just down on wealth and self-esteem being pandered around as the central message of the church in this nation’s biggest churches.  And especially at this time of year, when laser-light Christmas pageants are being planned, and live camels are being rented, and all sorts of nonsense is costing people millions of dollars and hundreds of hours because they think God desires “bigger and better!”…

I have to imagine Jesus is in the back row, quietly lighting a candle, looking up at the stage and saying, “Father forgive them…for they know not what they do.”

Oh, and Father, forgive me, too.  This reluctant Christian is often just a little too proud in his thoughts.

So scatter my ego as well.

Then perhaps I, too, can sing The Magnificat with Mary this Advent.  Carefully.

On Why I Will Allow (and Encourage) My Kid(s) to Believe in Santa Claus

Just like the perennial “Waimagesr on Christmas” creeps its Grinch-like head around this time of year, so do the calls for people to abandon Santa Claus, the “Elf on the Shelf,” and other child-pleasing myths that we’ve come to associate with this season.

Apparently because we celebrate the birth of Jesus at this time of year, everything else must come to a halt…lest we overshadow the “reason for the season.”

Well, to be honest, if we’re trying to get back to the “reason for the season” at its roots, we should probably leave Jesus out of the equation, too.  December 25th was not originally known as “Christmas,” and didn’t become so for many years after Christianity had been around.  “The Feast of the Undying Sun” was marked on December 25th, an acknowledgment of the solstice that would now ebb away into increasing daylight.  A nice pagan festival in the dead of winter.

We invited Jesus to the party late.  He wasn’t the original reason for celebrations at this time of year.

Christians now celebrate the “Feast of the Undying Son” (I should trademark that little monicker because I think it’s pretty darn clever), but we should be honest and recognize that it’s not our original festival to claim.  And it certainly wasn’t chosen because it was the date of Jesus’ birth.

Face it, we put the “Christ” in Christmas.  Any attempt to “keep” Christ there are done so because we cemented him there…

But back to Santa and the crazy Elf on the Shelf: I say “do it.”

As a pastor, as a father, as someone who thinks that life is more than water and trace elements forced to eek out an existence, I say “do it.”

As I preached this last Sunday, St. Nicholas can provide a real depth of meaning in this season where we celebrate Jesus’ birth (for Christians) by buying one another a Lexus adorned with a huge bow.

St. Nicholas was known for his giving…not for getting whatever he wanted.  And by keeping St. Nick in this season, we too, can focus our children on the giving of the season, rather than the receiving.

“Keep Christ in Christmas” the bumper sticker reads…on the gas guzzling car.  What about keeping Christ in consumerism? In fact, if you want to eliminate the real issue with this season, it has nothing to do with saying “Happy Holidays” or burning effigies of the jolly fat elf.  It has everything to do with buying and selling and how and why and where we do it.

But I digress.

Even more than the historical St. Nicholas, there is a bit of wonder and awe that is lost from this season if we don’t allow our children (and our adults) to play around in the great mystery that comes from things not being dark forever, from lights that shine out of a tree planted in the living room, from characters that point to good virtues and mischievous glee.

I encourage you to believe in Santa Claus, who is chief giver in a season where our natural inclination is to conserve and save-up to survive the winter.  Likewise, believe in the elf that creates havoc in the middle of the night.  Lord knows we all need another example to follow when our tendency to look out for ourselves butts up against the command to look out for our neighbor’s needs first.  Lord knows we all need a reminder that, though things seem to run havoc in the darkness, a little light can expose the havoc and encourage us to laugh at it all.

Santa and the Elf and the like can encourage our children, and even us, to live deeply in the season, look lightly at ourselves, and look wondrously at life.

The real trouble, I think, happens when we start teaching our children that believing in Santa Claus is analogous to belief in God.  That is the real fear behind inviting these characters into the season: belief and attention to them will point away from “true” belief and attention to Jesus.

But if we start holding Jesus and Santa at the same level, when we teach that belief in the Elf on the Shelf is like belief in God, and that you can’t hold both at the same time, then we do a real disservice.  Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers sing that wonderfully awful song, “I Believe in Santa Claus” where they also claim to believe in magic, in God, and in human destiny…as if it’s all on the same level…and we’ve bought into that perspective.  It doesn’t help the situation.

They are different types of belief.

I don’t trust Santa like I trust God.  Santa is a mental assent I allow myself at certain times with a wink and nod; hopefully a mental assent that points me toward a deeper truth in the world.

But God…I don’t allow myself to mentally assent to God’s existence.  I tried to do that and ended up an atheist for a while.  Rather, I trust God’s existence and lean on it (for more on this line of thinking, see what I wrote here).

Santa, the Elf on the Shelf, it all lends itself to wonder and awe and joy.  I say that you shouldn’t take that away from children.  But also don’t make belief in it all analogous to trust in God.  That’s the real problem with this whole season, I think.  We feel we’re in competition for “belief resources.”

In fact, the God who invites imagination, who inventively sung creation into being (and sung salvation into being through a lullaby), pulls out of me the desire to embrace these traditions.

They’re not harmless; they’re helpful.

And they’re only hurtful when we put them on par with faith.  And sometimes I’m a reluctant Christian because that’s exactly what Christians have done.

So, Findley will be finding some presents from Santa on Christmas morning (and we’ll probably address some from the cats as well even though they don’t have the opposable thumbs needed to wrap presents).  It won’t be the primary focus of our festival, but it’ll be there. And he’ll squeal with joy and, for a moment, feel the wonder in the magic of the season where a jolly fat guy fits down a non-working fireplace and cats wrap presents to give to their owners.

And while we don’t do the Elf on the Shelf thing (mostly because I find the elf’s proportions creepily elongated) if that’s your bag, go for it.

And if Christmas bells deliver your presents, or if Santa rides a donkey, or if gnomes put presents in stockings…all traditions from around the world…allow yourself the wonder and awe to believe that this world might just be a little bigger than we want to make it.

Perhaps you’ll find yourself caught up in joy that points to Joy greater than itself.  Perhaps you’ll figure out why the ancient church put Jesus’ natal day on December 25th.  In the time of darkness, the lightness that comes from such joy is a welcome guest.

Really Re-Claim Advent. We Need It.

I love Christmas.7772528906_b6961079fb_z

Secular Christmas, religious Christmas, Christmas movies, Christmas cookies, Christmas eggnog, Christmas candles, Christmas lights.

I am the quintessential consumer of Christmas crap that every marketer dreams of and every minimalist fears.

Because at Christmas it should be classy…but the definition of classy has permeable boundaries.

And I listen to Christmas music early in the season.  Mostly because I think it reminds me of Christmases when I was a kid, which were always full of magic and mystery and all sorts of greatness.

And perennial calls for stopping “wars on Christmas” or yelling for “no Christmas music until Advent is over” is all a bunch of nonsense from people who love to control things and who have an inordinate amount of time to obsess over nothingness.

But one thing is true: Christmas is for children.  And I’m not just talking about secular Christmas with the fat elf and the flying Rangifer tarandus.  

Religious Christmas is for children, too, in many ways.  You may not want to hear that, but it’s true. The myths that have grown themselves around the first two chapters of the Gospel of Luke (often conflated awkwardly with the first two chapters of the Gospel of Matthew) have created a narrative that theologically resonates, but realistically falls flat.

Angels, traveling Magi, virgin births…it’s all hard to swallow as reality, even for the faithful. It’s a story for children’s books.

And I’d advocate that you need not swallow it all to be Christian.  In fact, it sounds like so much myth mostly because it was written to evoke that kind of thought in the reader and that kind of hope in the reader’s heart.  You, too, are supposed to see that something unusual, epic, of mythical proportions is taking place in the person of Jesus.

Yes, you too.

But we’ve taken the mythical narrative and have tried to pass it off as history, and it all makes for people creating wars on Christmas (real and imaginary), and people rejecting theological truths because they don’t line-up with historical reality, and…

Well, here we are.

But see, this is the thing: the mythical nature of Christmastide is, and should be, balanced by the stark reality of Advent.

If only we could really re-claim Advent.

And I’m not talking about the Advent calendar with nice little doors that have chocolate inside until you get to Christmas eve.

That’s not real Advent.  That’s commercial Advent.

And I’m not talking about just banning Christmas hymns or music in deference to Advent music.  That’s like only focusing on one tire on a car, when the whole thing is broken.  It won’t do what you want it to.

No, we need to reclaim the totality of Advent because Advent is for adults.

Advent is for adults who wait for births, or for diagnoses, or for the death of a loved one, or for a new job, or for any job, or for that pink slip they know is coming, or for relief from pain, or for visitors to arrive and cheer up a lonely existence, or…

Or anything that we wait for that causes anxiety.

Because Advent is all about receiving the uncomfortable news that God is on the scene, is going to show up, is going to shake up your world in some way.  And that news when coupled with the “Fear not!” of the angel message is what balances out this season.

Your life is going to be shaken.  But fear not!

Jesus, we need to hear that again.  And I mean that phrase in every way it can be taken.

Because all the ridiculous anxiety around this time of year just points to the unrest that we have, the imbalance that we feel, when we focus so closely on one part of a larger issue.

The church needs to reclaim Advent because society, humanity, lives in Advent quite a bit of the time.  It’s one of the shortest seasons in the church year, but one of the longest seasons of our lives: the season of waiting.

And we need to practice waiting well.  Advent can do that, for the secular and the religious alike.

And I’m a reluctant Christian at times because most of the Christian world just skips right over it in deference to “defending Christmas” or focusing on music rather than meaning, or just abandoning it all together because, who cares?

Who cares?

That’s a question I’ve asked myself many times while waiting  as both ends of the wick burn, as patience runs thin, as the meagerness of my existence comes colliding with the immensity of the existing world and I feel like a measly piece of nothingness against it all.

And I don’t have time for nothingness.

Who cares?

Advent’s answer to that question is, “Wait for the Lord, whose day is near.  Wait for the Lord; be strong take heart.”

I don’t like answers.  I like questions.  But when all I have are questions, Advent’s response is balm for a weary soul.

On Why Clergy Don’t Need Tax Exempt Housing

Recently a federal juindexdge in Wisconsin ruled, in a suit filed by the Freedom from Religion Foundation, that clergy person’s tax-exempt housing is unconstitutional.  You can read more about it here.

The reason why clergy have tax-exempt housing in the first place is baffling to me.  It’s not necessary.

True, it’s a nice perk in a job where the burn-out rate is almost on par with air traffic controllers.

But they don’t get tax-free housing.  Hell, I don’t even think they get free unlimited plane flights…and they help land the things!

It’s not necessary.  In fact, I think it’s a problem.

Because if you look at the marriage between the clergy tax-free housing status and the government that granted it, you’ll find that this all arose in the 1920’s at a time when modern American exceptionalism was merging with revived religious fervor.  And you know the trajectory: revivals, the end of the Third Great Awakening bleeding into two World Wars and then a Fourth Great Awakening, the marriage of American cultural values and “Christian values.”

The church became the backbone of a social structure where everyone lived in little pink houses (for you and me), waved the flags that stood near the crosses next to the altars, and believed that God’s protection was over the USA.

At least, that’s the pretty picture painted by many.

Lost in the shadow of this false utopia that many look back on with fond affection is a series of systems that held racism iron-locked, held fear of the “other” as a value, and held crippling poverty as something you shy away from looking at (remember Robert Kennedy’s national tour?).

I think it is no accident that the “social gospel” of the Third Great Awakening was largely stifled in the 20’s-30’s and fell out of influence as we tumbled into the World Wars as now religious structures, who had been given a hand-out by Uncle Sam, began focusing on the individual rather than society.

Enter the Fourth Great Awakening with altar calls and personal commitments to Christ and civic duty…

What happens when Caesar sends you a gift? You become hesitant to critique Caesar.  You begin to scratch political backs.

The systems of the Great Society became largely solidified as religious and civic powers walked in lock-step.  Why is it, do you think, that Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote his prophetic letter to white pastors from that jail cell?

Their silence was deafening!

And all the while they were taking their tax breaks from a system that didn’t find it important that people of all races vote.

I’m happy to give up my tax-free housing allowance.  I hope other clergy are, too.  I don’t think I can take personal money from a system that continues to cut SNAP benefits, continues to feed fat insurance companies even in medical care reform, that continues to fight wars at considerable expense but refuses to fight poverty with any like measure.

I am not an advocate for being against things simply to be against something.  But there is much in our world that does not exhibit righteousness, “right-relationship,” and I must be free to speak against those ills.  Let’s give tax breaks to people that really are persecuted.

Perhaps this move will free clergy up to advocate for such a position.

In Defense of Reason(ableness) and Stories and Not Squashing Spiders

My colleague and good friend Jason put out to the world a list of “7 things people think are in the Bible but actually aren’t.”  You canspider1 read it here.

And it’s gone a bit viral, as well it should have.  It’s good writing.  And Jason is, by and large, correct in his list (despite the many Bible verses that those who disagree with him have quoted in the comments section).

What Jason sees, and what a large portion of people who identify as Christian and comment on his blog miss, is the difference between Bible quotation/citation and the theological discipline of Systematics.

Take his #7 example, for instance: The Rapture.

The Rapture as a theological concept, as a system, is not in the Bible.  Sure, there are verses in the Bible that the creators of this theological concept used to come up with this particular pseudo-doctrine (it’s not, technically, a doctrine at all).  And these quotations from Matthew and Ephesians and elsewhere lay a hodgepodge basis for this flimsy theological idea.

But the idea is not in there itself.

Just because you can quote a verse used to support a theological system does not mean that the theological system that uses that quotation as foundational is actually in scripture.

It often means someone did an good job of cutting and pasting.

So, for instance, when Jason says that “God hates ____” isn’t in the Bible, technically he’s incorrect.  Sure, there are verses that name that God hates a lying tongue, a sly look, hands that shed innocent blood (Proverbs 6) as well as other things elsewhere.

But Jason isn’t talking about technicalities here, he’s talking about the broad scope view of a Bible seen through the lens of Jesus (a lens all Christians should view scripture).  And by that standard, he’s correct.

The verses might be there; you can quote them.  But the spirit of the scriptures as seen through Jesus is one of reconciliation.  Dare we say: even reconciling these verses of Proverbs that claim God “hates” things?

Plus, Jason’s overarching point is that God never hates people for being people…so any argument that deflects from that main one is just a Straw Man argument, a philosophical fallacy.

Again, just because you quote a verse does not mean the theological concept is attested to in scripture.

But the biggest problem in this whole thing, I think, is the fear that people are meeting his assertions with.

Fear is pervasive in religion, even a religion based on peace and love.

Jason even received a note that warned him that the Bible “deals harshly with false prophets and heretics.”

First of all, my Bible has never dealt with me harshly.  It doesn’t have arms or legs or weapons to do so.  If it did, I’d need to do an exorcism, cause a Bible that can “deal with me harshly” is an inanimate object possessed.

Secondly, part and parcel with a literal view of scripture is the fear that comes from any viewpoint that might call objection to such a rigid reading of this spiritual document.  If the Bible is just a list of verses that I access like an encyclopedia, I’d rather read Shakespeare, thank you.

At least Shakespeare has the ability to move me.  No encyclopedia has moved me to do anything but play a word in Scrabble or squash a spider.

And I guess that’s a pretty good analogy.  Because Jason was moved by scripture to free people from the assumptions they make about what the spirit of scriptures really say much like poetry and good stories free us to change the world.

And people responded by trying to play a move better than his and squash him.

I want to make a defense of a reasonable way of reading scriptures.  For the Christian tradition, you cannot read any part of it except through the lens of Jesus the Christ. I do not see a way around that for a Christian.

And all other portions of scripture are good for teaching and edification…when read through the lens of Jesus.

When read on their own though, well, I’m afraid most Christians just end up trying to squash their neighbor like a spider.

So, are Jason’s assertions correct?  Technically you  might be able to point to specific verses to debunk his list.  But the Bible is not an encyclopedia.  It’s a story.  And you have to read the whole thing to get the arch of the narrative.  And, specifically here, you have to know the lens to read it with.

Through the lens of Jesus, his assertions are correct.

But I’m a reluctant Christian sometimes because we can’t put up with an encyclopedic reading of scripture anymore…and that seems to be what most places are offering.  It’s just creating a lot of attempts to squash each other.

And a hell of a lot of fear.

An Argument for Keeping Churches Small*

12SmallChurchAdvantage_400_478515996*A quick qualifier before we begin: “small” has yet to be defined with precision.

Because I think small doesn’t have everything to do with numbers (although, I think that at a certain point it does).

So, I’ve been getting some push back for my last article on why I dislike mega-churches.  A lot of it is warranted.  I think that if you put something out there, people should be able to push back.  And please note, I also dislike a lot of small churches (also in the article).

But that piece was written in response to a piece by a colleague who says he doesn’t like “mega,” but then never actually digs into “mega” at all in a substantial way.  Perhaps that wasn’t his point.  But there is something to be said there…and I wish he would. I think there is a real argument to be had for keeping faith communities on the small side.  I really do.

Here’s a part of that argument:

Look, we have a depression problem in the communities of faith, by and large.  This is well diagnosed.

Little churches are depressed that they  aren’t mega, and I think mega-churches have depression as well, though not of the psychological nature.  Mega-churches are depressed, and depressive, in that the consolidation of resources, while seemingly allowing for unlimited amplification of good, actually depresses the good they can be and do.

I’ll get to that in a moment.

But first, let’s define “small.”

Small to me is manageable.  For every community the particulars of that will be different, I think.  Some of it will depend on the leaders (clergy and others), some of it will depend on other factors such as location and mission (locus and focus).

But small does not mean deficient.  And it certainly doesn’t mean “bad” or “not living into it’s potential.”

I think many churches are small in size because of unconscious choices they make: who the power brokers are, what the internal fights are, their ability to welcome and adapt to change, etc.  Very few of these choices have to do with Jesus, btw.

But I think that communities of faith can be small by choice for reasons that absolutely have to do with Jesus.  That is, they can take their own temperature and decide when their connections are becoming so strained that they need to send some folks to start new communities of faith.

Because Christ was about making connections and reaching the margins…not about consolidation.  The need to consolidate is the need to control.

Control is a nice little illusion.

Let’s go back to mega a bit.  Because I think mega is about control.  That’s how mega is depressive.

Here’s the thing:  mega churches are hierarchical…like most churches (there are some notable exceptions, like the Quakers).  And the broader the base, the smaller the top.  And although there may be many leaders in a mega church (there should be many leaders in any size church!), when message lies in the lonely top, when perspective lies in the lonely top, when generation and impetus lies at the lonely top, it depresses the ability for the people to grow out on their own.

It truly does.

And it creates rock stars rather than ministers which, to me, is a real problem.

And these rock stars then become the interpretive lens for the parishioner rather than Jesus, because, well, how can you challenge someone who obviously has so much influence and control? They must know what they’re talking about…

This is, I think, why mega-churches have a large rotation of regular attendees…people who come for a few years, and then move on.  Consolidation at the top doesn’t allow things to “trickle down” in the way people want it to. The inability to actually have agency, to grow together while challenging each other, is depressive.

My parishioners and I don’t all agree on every point, theological or otherwise.  But we have a relationship that allows us to continue to do mission together, even while acknowledging where we diverge.  That just doesn’t happen in the same way in the mega world, to the detriment of the church and individual spirituality.

And, by and large, I find that mega churches perpetuate that mega-mentality that “more is better,” but practice a “more is not better” when it comes to leadership and messaging, as the lead pastor’s sermon is video streamed into each campus regularly despite the availability of other pastors to craft other sermons.

This, I think, doesn’t connect people in the way it’s intended.  There’s dissonance there.

I think it actually depresses mission; it doesn’t expand it.

And finally, let’s talk about the big elephant in the room: ego.

We must always be on guard when it comes to the ego.

The ego of small-in-numbers churches is offended that they’re not bigger…and so sometimes they fall into patterns of behavior to keep themselves numerically small as a way to fulfill their doom-prophecy.

They call themselves “friendly.”

When I hear or see “friendly” on a church sign or on a church website, I automatically think “dysfunctional.”  Because they’re trying to make up for the fact that others aren’t in the room by proclaiming that they’re super-nice.

If they were truly welcoming, though, and open to change, others would be in the room, right?  Maybe.  Most likely.

In contrast, the ego of the mega church leader is never kept in check as the church begins to grow but is never sent.  As the base gets bigger, the ego gets bigger.  Things seem to be “working,” and there’s nothing more delicious for a hungry ego than to see things “work.”  And so how do we keep things working?  By keeping control.

And the ego of the mega church attender is, likewise, fed by size.  “I must be doing something right because I go to a successful church! Look how big it is and how many programs it has!”  Red Riding Hood did a similar comparison before being eaten by the wolf…

People at this point will say things like, “God never intended you to live a mediocre life,” or “God has big dreams, you should too” or start quoting Proverbs or other parts of scripture to lay a foundation for bigger and successful is better.  And this is, I think, a secret in the world of mega: self-help tidbits that we pass off as spiritual.  Make me feel good, and I’ll serve you forever.  Feed the mega-ego until it’s stuffed.

But Jesus rarely made people just “feel good.”

If we look at Jesus (and really, all scripture should be seen through the lens of Jesus), we don’t see that.  Abundant life didn’t have to do with numbers or feeling good.  It had to do with reliance on God.  Reliance on God keeps the ego in check.  Humility.  Passionate giving.  Love that is sacrificial.

Look, I don’t know if your church is too mega or too small.  And I, by no means, think I have it all figured out.  My ego is trouble…just ask my wife.

But I think a good beginning question a faith community could delve into would be, “Do we think more is necessary?  Is more better?  Or are we confident that God has equipped us with all that we need?”

And really ask it!  Wrestle with yourself, with your church.

Keeping a church small intentionally involves asking those question.

And, I should be clear, I think there are small churches with 30 on a Sunday morning, and small churches with 3000 on a Sunday morning.

Both will have difficulty staying small, though.  There seems to be an in-between that aids in this kind of work.

Because mega is so tempting.

So constant questions, checks and balances, and the ability to really ask if you’re depressed or depressive is necessary.

I guess I would say, let’s keep it small.  Seriously.

Why I Dislike Mega-Churches (No, Really…)

willowcreek-megachurch_thumb

A colleague of mine wrote a blog post today entitled, “Why I Hate Mega-Churches.”

But it’s a bait-and-switch (which he admits halfway through).  He likes mega-churches and, by his writing (in this and other pieces I’ve read), would probably like to lead one or build one.

Fine, I guess.  But when I look around the world, one thing I don’t tend to say to myself is, “Gosh, this world needs another mega-church.”

Just saying.

A good thing about mega-churches?  They have a lot of resources to do a lot of good in the world (should they choose to).

The consolidation of people and money under one mega-roof creates mega-possiblities (a quick qualifier: if one does some math to subtract the ecological and sociological impact from a mega-building, mega-pastors, mega-salaries, mega-parking lots, and mega-messaging-machines that often tout a message that I’d consider more damaging than helpful, the possible good shrinks considerably).

A bad thing about mega-churches?

They’re mega.

No, seriously, I think that’s a bad thing.  The anonymity that’s possible by slipping into stadium seating creates this wonderful silo-effect for the participant.  It makes you feel like the mega-speaker in the mega-space is speaking directly to you…and yet you never actually interact.

And there’s no need to!  You have thousands of others around you who can take up their time.  Why should you?

Also, I imagine it’s a little difficult to talk about giving yourself up for your neighbor when you’re sitting on a building whose footprint is effectively the size of a neighborhood.  Can we talk about the God who empties for the sake of humanity if we’re looking to fill our lives with mega?  Is there no cognitive dissonance there?

And, from my office, another problem with mega-churches is that it’s mega-taxing as a pastor to care for so many people…so, often you don’t.  It doesn’t happen.  The voice of Sunday morning is not the voice of the hospital or home visit. That’s not always bad, mind you.  Lots of people can and should do such care.  But there’s something about knowing the people you’re serving, and knowing them well.

Listen, I feel taxed enough keeping 300 people’s issues, concerns, schedules, and needs clear in my head. The possibility of 10,000 people sends me into convulsions.

Another problem I have with mega-churches is that I think  mega-churches teach, implicitly or explicitly, that mega-blessings and mega-sized programs and mega-sized hopes and dreams are what fuels the world and counts for success in life.

And they’re not.

My colleague says in his opinion piece that mega-churches seem to understand that God is found amongst the poor and the lonely because of all the good work they do for the poor and the lonely with their mega-resources.

If I may be so blunt: bull.

Such romanticizing of mega-sized resources  and mega-sized programs for the poor is a mega-sized dream.

If it is true that mega-sized churches really did believe God is best found amongst the poor and the lonely, the pastors would lead the charge there by putting the mega-sized buildings up for auction or, as a little church here in Wrigleyville (Chicago) has done, take out the pews and allow the homeless to sleep on the floor during the week.

That’s mega-voice with a congregation of 40 on a Sunday morning.

Finally, I guess I’ll also say that I don’t like mega-churches because it just feeds the mega-monster in the American (not exclusively, but largely) personality that bigger is better, success is godly, and fancy is freeing.

Again, bull.

Jesus, who had a large following but just over a dozen main players, who had no job, no home, and by any modern measure of success was, well, not successful, gives me no indication that mega-churches are anything but mega.

They are no more church than any other size gathering, no matter how you spin it.  And despite my colleague’s parsing of “God in mystery” and “God that repels” as motivating factors for church size,  I don’t think the argument for building church empires lies in how people relate to God.

By and large I think the truth lies in how people relate to egos, to money, and to what typical “success” is supposed to look like.  This is why we have mega-churches: because we like mega for all the wrong reasons.

But, lets be honest, I don’t like many small churches, either.

Mostly because I usually find that they think they should be mega, and get depressed because they’re not.  Or because they say they don’t want to be mega, but secretly do.

I like churches who are honest about themselves, who they are, and confident that in God, they can do all they are called to do in this world.

Mega is so attractive on paper…

Funny.  Nothing about Jesus is attractive on paper.

“Obscenity” or “On Why I Discourage People from Writing Their Own Marriage Vows”

I do a lot of weddings. I have a young community that I serve; it comes with the territory.writing-wedding-vows

And marriage is certainly on the radar these days in the States as more and more parts of the Union have legalized the union of same-sex couples.

I support same-sex marriage.  I should just say that off the bat.  I support it because, despite what you might hear out there, the Bible doesn’t have a thing to say about marriage.  It has many things to say.  And many of those things run contrary to modern notions of marriage.

What I don’t support, though, is for couples to write their own vows.  Sometimes I allow it…with conditions.  But, by and large, I don’t support it.  I’ll just come out of the proverbial closet on this: I’m against crappy vows.

If you want me to use my special designation by the State to do marriages, I’m going to force you to do pre-marital counseling with me.  Each session focuses on a different aspect of life together (and life, in general): family, finances, friends, and intimacy.

(If you want to keep going with “f” words it become obscene).

Another “f” word, faith, is woven through all of those.  Faith as trust: trust in the Divine and one another.

The very first session, though, is where we plan out the ceremony itself.  We spend a little while talking about order and structure, and then we look at words.  I think words are important (as you may know from previous posts).

I think words are so important, in fact, that I don’t continue with my string of “f” words when describing the different pre-marital counseling sessions…even though it would fulfill my great delight in alliteration.  The “f” word we commonly associate with intimacy is anything but intimate.  And although it’s a curse word that spices up language (and I’ve been known to curse), let’s not kid ourselves: we don’t feel particularly intimate with the “f” word in a way that is lasting.

If we did, we wouldn’t use it so liberally.  It is an obscene word that we use to indicate that something is just that: obscene.

“Love” is by far a scarier word to say.   And intimacy is not obscene, it’s scary.

So, because words are important, I always take the couple through the various words that I can/will use in the service: the declaration of intention, the prayer of the day, the blessings.

And then we get to the vows. And at this point I usually say something like this, “Now, I’m going to give you some options for vows and I want us to talk about them.  I want you to use one of these options. If you want to write your own vows, that’s a possibility…but I need to see them before hand.  And we need to talk about them.”

In all honesty, most couples aren’t interested in writing their own vows.  They’d rather have someone write something for them on a day when they’re already more visible than they’d like to be.

But every so often a couple will want to write their own…and that’s when I do my damnedest to try to talk them out of it.

See, this is the thing: in marriage, you can’t just promise whatever you might want.  And because love is scary, we often don’t know exactly what we want…and so we just go with what we know.

And so much of what we know is just sentimental generalist crap.

A vow is something very specific.  I had one of my best couples consider writing their own vows because, as the future bride put it, they wanted to “publicly express their love for one another.”**   Of course they do.  But that’s what the marriage ceremony is in and of itself.

A vow is not an expression of love, and yet so many labor under the delusion that it is.

A vow is a sacred promise, a statement that you say in front of people who, if they are at their best, will hold you accountable to them.  A vow is you saying, “Hey everyone listen up! I’m going to pledge some very specific things to this person across from me, and I want you to hear them and hold me accountable to them.”

Expressions of love are not vows.  Expressions of love are emotionally based.  Vows are not emotionally based, no matter what popular culture tries to tell you.

Vows don’t come from your heart, nor do they come from your head.  Vows come from that place that exists somewhere between rationality and emotionality, because you keep them even when it doesn’t make sense, and even when you don’t feel like it.

So many couples want to write their vows in secret, apart from one another, and then surprise the other with them.  Such surprises are best left for other points in the service, or other times in the whole event of the marriage day.  If you write your vows in secret, how are you to ensure that you’re vowing the same things to one another?

One of you cannot vow to be with the other to the bitter end, while the other only mention staying together in sunny times.  That happens, you know.  I’ve heard self-stylized vows that had very little to say about “the worst that is to come.”

And that’s when the vow is so important!

In a day and age of choice, which is what we are in, I’m sorry…I’m not willing to provide you with this particular choice.  You cannot choose what you vow to one another in marriage; marriage cannot mean whatever you want it to mean.

And I know that may seem to trample on individuality, but I’m trying my hardest to impart one thing and one thing only on you two: this is important.  You will make of your journey together what you will, but I want to hear how you’re going to make the journey, and I’d prefer you use ancient words that people have leaned on throughout all of time.

Because for as much as this is about you and your love, it’s also about all of us who witness it.  Because you invited us to be there.  So I’m going to try to hold you accountable to these things to the best of my ability.

And I’m not one who believes a couple should “stay together at all costs.”  Sometimes an amicable divorce is healthier than an acrimonious marriage.  But, at the very least, can we not look at the vows you made and figure out where things went wrong?  Let’s not pretend that people divorce over irreconcilable differences.

We divorce because vows are difficult to keep and we have trouble living together in covenants.

And so, instead of vows, too often we just have statements of love and intention because other people are really really difficult to live with.

No one marries intending not to stay together; I know what you intend.  I want to know what you vow.  I want to know what you promise from that place between your head and heart, that place of deep yearning that leads people to come together in marriage in the first place.

I don’t think marriage is under threat because people of the same sex want to marry.  Any two people can make a vow; gender doesn’t have much to do with it.  Marriage is under threat because people, of any sex, want to marry on their own terms.

And so much of the church is missing the boat here, I think.  We shouldn’t stand against same sex marriage, we should stand against shoddy vows and a society unwilling to comment on them in a meaningful (read: not judgmental) way when they fall apart.

I think the Bible has many things to say about marriage, most of them absolutely foreign to our modern ears and notions about the institution.  The question for the church isn’t, “What does the Bible say about marriage?” It is rather, “What does our faith say about marriage?”

And our faith, the Christian faith, says vows and covenants are important.  This thread flows through both testaments.

I’m a reluctant Christian at times because, well, we’ve been silent on the vows…but have a heck of a lot to say about who should marry.

And to not see the difference?  That’s just obscene.

**The couple eventually decided to have some statements of love that they had written to one another read before the vows themselves.  This is a great option, I think.