Why I Just Can’t…

5079516280_dd8c5d1fe2Folks, I can’t.

I try as much as possible to “live and let live,” but I just can’t do this anymore.

When a televangelist says that “You don’t need a flu shot if you have Jesus,” I just can’t.

I can’t let it go without saying something.

Jesus may be called “The Great Physician,” but good golly, get a flu shot. Kids are dying.

When a popular Christian website run by neo-Calvinist author (and, in my opinion, Biblical hack) John Piper tweets “We will find mental health when we stop staring in the mirror, and fix our eyes on the strength and beauty of God,” implying that somehow people who have mental illness are just “looking at things in the wrong way,” I just can’t.

I can’t let it go without saying something, because people are dying from mental illness and it’s not that they’re spiritually deficient.  This is ignorance on fire, a charge too many people are already giving to Christians…thanks for proving them correct.

And when we start walking lock-step in line with political candidates, of whatever party, and claim such obviously blasphemous statements like “God has put them in charge,” I just can’t anymore.

Vote for who you vote for and don’t try to blame the outcome on God, regardless of who you wanted to win.  You break the Second Commandment when you do so, by the way.

Did God put Hitler in charge of Germany?  What about Pol Pot in Cambodia?  No?  It’s only in the US that God puts people in charge? Well, then God must have it out for the Native Americans to put Andrew Jackson in charge.  Or for the Japanese Americans to put FDR in charge (we kindly forget about those prisons, don’t we?).

I just can’t, folks.

The church is wonderful and beautiful. We take care of one another and do good by the world.  We can change the world for good, too, by God.

But boy oh boy, when we are silent in the face of such ignorance. When we just say, “Well, we’re not like those Christians…” to the rest of the world without providing the counter argument, without calling those voices to be silent, by God…

And even more problematically, when we continue to go to these churches, buy their spiritual wares, and don’t confront our friends and relatives (and even those shadow places inside ourselves) who buy into all of this, we are just sending invitations to the spiritually-seeking-but-religion-skeptical friends to not bother with the Jesus story altogether.

I’m all for big tent Christianity, but I just can’t anymore.  I don’t know if I’m in a totally different tent, or no longer find myself in that tent, or am just making my own campsite…I can’t think that’s the case, but perhaps it is.

But what I do know is that will not be quiet about it, and I don’t want you to be, either.

Because people are dying.  Because the cross cannot be confused with Caesar and still be the cross we see on Golgotha, the cross we find in scripture.

Because Christianity cannot be a religion where “ignorance is on fire and intelligence is on ice” as author Brian McLaren so rightly says (The Great Spiritual Migration, pg 7).

And we can’t let it become that.

You can’t.

And I can’t.

Will the Real Racist(s) Please Stand Up?

It’s about to snow here in Raleigh, which means two things: there are no pantry staples in the stores, and there is 100% chance of no school tomorrow.

So I’d like to take this moment to talk about the white stuff.

No, not the snow. By “white stuff” I mean “white people.” Including me.

Because I’m hearing some nutso things lately on the news, and I’m hearing well-intentioned people wonder aloud or deny aloud if the President of the United States is a racist, specifically because he supposedly said some terrible things about countries with majority Brown/Black populations.

But here’s the thing: even if he hadn’t/didn’t say such terrible things (and we can agree that the reports of what he may have said are pretty terrible, right? Not just “salty language” sort of terrible, but the “Geeze I’m embarrassed I know you” sort of terrible that happens at Thanksgiving with your uncle who makes political incorrectness into a contact sport)…even if he hadn’t/didn’t say those things: he’s still a racist.

And not because of the Birther stuff.

And not because of the Muslim ban stuff.

And not because of the “Mexican rapist” stuff or the whole “Mexican-heritage judge can’t be impartial toward me because I want to build a huge wall along the Mexican border (but Canada gets no such architecture) stuff.”

None of that makes him racist. It makes a person many things, but not racist.

What makes him racist can be reduced to a simple equation which happens to be the (most commonly accepted in academic circles) definition of racism.

Ready? It’s going to make you mad. Just warning you.

Ready?

Here it is:

Prejudice+Privilege/Power=Racism.

And until the world shifts dramatically, being born with white skin still affords you so much privilege and so much power, it is impossible…my sisters and brothers…impossible!…not to be racist and participate in racist systems as a white person who isn’t a hermit living in the wilds of Maine.

BUT EVEN THERE they’d still be racist if they are white because the very fact of their whiteness gives them enough power in this world to give them a leg up.

Now, there are some (really poorly argued) articles on the interwebs that will debunk this definition. I obviously reject them, but I don’t do so glibly.

See, I don’t want to be racist. So why would I embrace a definition of racism that clearly paints me as racist?

Because it is true.

If I’m humble and reflective and honest and not defensive, I know it’s true.

It’s been proven true in my own life and my own actions, and it’s a cactus I have to hug if I’m ever going to effectively do anti-racism work and offload the (often subconscious) prejudice I have.

Look, this blog post will put me at odds with friends and relatives, and members of my own congregation. They don’t want to be racist, they don’t think of themselves as racist, and many of them have even felt prejudice from people of color (though, according to the above definition , they must understand that “reverse racism” is about as real as unicorns or good roads with low taxes…it doesn’t really exist). They don’t want to believe this about themselves, especially if they’re on the lower end of the socio-economic scale, or they’ve spent their lives donating to African orphans, or have black and brown friends.

Of course they don’t. I don’t. But it’s still true.

And the very fact that I can write this and have it read by many white people is indicative in part of the systems of racism I participate in (because, do we really need another white blogger writing about race?…and yet I continue…)

And we always seem to get hung up on the prejudice thing. I get that. I’ve felt prejudice from people of color directed toward me.

But what you have to understand is that prejudice doesn’t have a color attached to it. All races can be (are?) prejudice in some form or fashion, often subconsciously and many times quite consciously.

Prejudice is harmful and often hateful and is often dangerous. And while people can be less/more prejudiced, I’m not sure anyone can be totally without prejudice, especially when whole systems (economic systems/prison systems/government systems/hiring systems) have implicit and explicit prejudice.

But prejudice alone is not racism…though they can be linked.

I can be prejudiced. Denzel Washington can be prejudiced.

Let’s not pretend that the backpack I was born with was the same one that Denzel Washington was born with.

The man now has economic and influential power, and his pinky toe can act circles around me…he’s got talent (though he’s made some poor movie choices…looking at you Book of Eli).

But even with all that, I cannot dismiss the fact that the hill I’ve had to climb just because I’m white: that my job application with the boringly innocuous “Tim Brown” at the top as opposed to his “Denzel” will get looked at first and with more priority; that my presence in an establishment (with the obvious exception of buffet lines) has never caused concern; that jails are full of people who don’t look like me at an alarming ratio that causes just about every statistician to conclude bias in the system…

My hill is smaller and easier.

White is still synonymous with privileged power worldwide. It just is, despite the trends of increasing global diversity. And the fact that I don’t feel very privileged or powerful most of the time doesn’t change the reality that I am.

I don’t feel tall most of the time…but statistically I am.

That’s a horse pill for most of my white friends and relatives and parishioners (and I know it may put us at odds, but we’ve got talk about this!).

It is for me, too.

It’s a horse pill because there are so many white people who don’t feel empowered. Who don’t feel as if they’re privileged. Who don’t feel as if they have a leg up in a world of Affirmative Action and diversity quotas and falling Confederate Statues.

Look…I hear you my white friends. But it’s not about feeling. It’s about reality. The system is wrong and terrible and we participate and perpetuate it often without our knowing (but often with our full approval). It’s sneaky and real and you’ve been taught that it’s just status quo, but listen closely to our friends of color and you’ll hear that the status isn’t actually quo! It’s rigged and harmful to human flourishing in many parts of the world.

Because the powerful always want to retain power. It’s why we Christians have taken a wandering Middle Eastern man and made him white with perfect hair (and apparently all artists assume that he had some form of ancient Norelco trimmer because that beard is always on point!) and call him Savior. If Jesus looks like me, well, then my power is confirmed.

I feel your anger at my words here. Please know I’m just trying to talk about something no one wants to talk about in white circles above a whisper.

And the reality is that immigrants from Norway (where this Jesus looks like he’s from) are still preferred in this country to immigrants from Haiti, especially if they’re moving into your neighborhood, affecting your property value. Don’t think that kind of thing is attached to race? I have a couple of maps made by a man named Gerry Mander to show you…

But there is hope, my white friends (and my white me).

Let us hug this cactus in a way that unclogs our defensive hearts and opens our ears.

I am racist. I don’t want to be, and I gander you don’t want to be, either. I try not to be prejudice…but they’re not the same, folks. They’re not the same thing.

We were born into systems much larger than ourselves. But we can dismantle them, if we’re willing. We can give up some power, actively deny our privilege in the way one denies fatty foods that aren’t healthy, and we can dialogue and learn and grow.

Recently I was talking with a Black friend about racism and I said, “You know, white people like to pretend they’re not racist because it makes them feel better.”

He said, “That’s the most honest thing I’ve heard a white person say.”

And then we talked openly and honestly about racism, prejudice, and all sorts of things. That honesty was a big part of that dismantling process.

So, is our President racist?

As racist as I am.

So if you’re asking for the real racist to stand up…here I am. And probably you, too.

My Pastoral Note on Las Vegas

<This went out today.  I’ve made no secret that I have no love for guns. That conviction is ever-growing.  Christians need to consider that perhaps, *perhaps,* faith in Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace, might call our desire to own hand guns and assault rifles into question…>

Beloved,

imagesAnother act of domestic terrorism has filled the news, filled our heads, and at this writing, hundreds of people who were enjoying life just hours ago are now filling the hospitals and, tragically, over 50 are already confirmed dead.

Our addiction to violence is a disease, and it is a sin.

I refused to tune into the news channels this morning, fearing that the children that live in my house might see the world they’re inheriting.  They’re too young not to know how to be brave in the face of such madness.  Sometimes I wonder if I’m too young.

St. Peter, in one of the moments when he spoke out of love and not fear, responded to Jesus in a time of perplexity, “Lord, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of abundant life.” (John 6:68)

We don’t go to guns.  We don’t go to violence.  We don’t go to partisan bickering which all just becomes a distraction.  The war of words rages while people die.  Trite moralisms and vapid optimism will not do any of us any good today.  And, when we go to Jesus, he doesn’t offer that.  He offers true solace, he offers us the chance to confess, to forgive, to breathe, to mourn, and to re-center ourselves in peace rather than fear.

But, we must remember that, if we go to Jesus, if we seek refuge under those wings, Jesus will send us back out, too.  It is not enough to pray for the victims of mass shootings, we must pray with our shoes on, prepared to work for justice and an end to this kind of violence, as Jesus calls us to in our baptism.

Walter Brueggemann, a prophet in our own time, has a book of prayers (Prayers for a Privileged People [Abingdon Press: Nashville, 2008]) that I find myself thumbing through when these mass shootings happen.

And, let me be honest: I have looked at it too much in my almost 10 years of ministry.

His prayer/poem “God’s Gift in the Midst of Violence” is one I offer to you here today.  But pray it with your shoes on.

Peace today.

P.S. One immediate thing that you can do is donate blood at your local Red Cross.  Click that link to find where your nearest donation center is. Blood donations will be needed!

 

God’s Gift in the Midst of Violence

The world trembles out of control.

The violence builds,

                Some by terrorism,

                Some by state greed,

                                Dressed up as policy,

                                Violence on every side.

You, in the midst of the out-of-control violence.

                We confess you as steadfast, loyal, reliable,

                But we wonder if you yourself are engaged

                                In brutality

                We confess you to be governor and ruler,

                But we wonder if you manage.

We in the midst of out-of-control violence,

                We in great faith

                We in deep vocational call

                We in our several anxieties.

We—alongside you—in the trembling.

This day we pray for freedom to move

                Beyond fear to caring,

                Beyond self to neighbor,

                Beyond protection to growth.

That we may be a sign of steadfastness,

                That anxiety may not win the day.

You are the one who said, “Do not be anxious.”

And now we submit to you.

About That Knee…

football-player-kneeling-with-helmet-off“Take a knee,” he said.  We all knelt as he explained the next play.

I didn’t play football for long.  Let’s be honest: it wasn’t my calling in life.  Team sports leave me largely exhausted, and team players find me largely exhausting.

But for the short time I did play, we took a knee every time we had to hash through something.

“Take a knee,” she said as I grew really tired standing next to my wife during the birth of our second son.  Neither birth was long, mind you, but I had been standing up and needed to hold the hand…but also needed not to be on my feet the whole time.  I was going to give out, too.  So I knelt.

I took a knee by the bedside as we waited for something new to be birthed.

“I invite you down on your knees,” he said as I took my ordination vows.  Hands were laid on me and people spoke words over me, and I responded back, about how we’d try to care for God’s people and the world.

The position of humility, but also of power, of one assuming the mantle.

Their knees all bumped up against the counter as they sat there, still.  They couldn’t order anything, and they were harassed right out of their seats, and yet there they sat, knee to knee, protesting their right to exist at the same counter as their white counterparts.

It was another position of humble power.

We take a knee to hash things out, to encourage new things to be born, to take vows, and yes, to sit in and protest when things aren’t going well.

Are things going well?  Maybe it depends on who you ask.

But if my brother and sister are in trouble, it stands to reason that I’m in trouble…or will be soon…so maybe we do need to take a knee to hash it out.

And, from a Christian perspective, look…standing up for a flag, saluting, even putting your hand over your heart, the early church would absolutely be shocked that Christians ever do such a thing. 

For the early church the choice was clear: you were either part of the empire, or you followed the God seen through Christ.

For that early church, you could not do both.  Any allegiance to anything other than Christ was allegiance misplaced.

And that was true until the church and politics got married…certainly the definition of a “marriage of convenience.”

Convenient for whom, though? Are they still married? Can we pledge allegiance to both today?

Maybe we should take a knee and discuss it.  It’s worth discussing.

Now, please don’t get me wrong…I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t stand for the national anthem or salute the flag or place your hand over your heart.  I fully believe you’re welcome to wrestle with whatever you do or refrain from…whatever it is you decide to do.

Women and men died for the flag; yes.  That can’t be denied, and should be honored and respected.  Why did they die?  How did they die?  For what did they die?  That’s all part of this discussion, you know…not just that they died.

There is a larger conversation that is trying to happen here, some things that are trying to be birthed, some ways we need to figure out if we’re keeping our vows to one another as a country, some people who are protesting the fact that they feel left out of the promises our flag stands for.

So perhaps we should take a knee and discuss it all.  It’s worth discussing.

Why It May Be Impossible to Be A Christian and A Politician: A Reluctant Perspective

Gods-Politics-0921I offer this as the news of DACA being rescinded is officially hitting the news.  No matter what your views on immigration are, we must be honest about the nature of DACA and its dissolution: it is cruel to ensure a future to people who didn’t ask to be here and then take it away.

But for those who are for it’s dissolution, and for everyone else, I have to be honest with you about how hard (impossible?) it must be to be a Christian and a politician, despite what the voters want you to say about your religious tradition.

I have a hunch we have a bunch of functioning atheists on our hands most days, not just in Washington, but everywhere.  And count me in that mix most days, if I’m brutally honest.

But for those who are calling for “law and order” when it comes to this issue, or any issue, I have to point you back to Jesus.  Not to the Bible, not to tradition, but to Jesus.

Look, on the one hand I get it: we are under the assumption that that law is how we order ourselves in this country.  And in many ways, this is true.  Laws are how we find norms in our country as a society.  As Winston Churchill once said, “Democracy is the worst kind of government, except for all the other kinds.”  He’s right.  So laws and democratic rule form our norms.

But for the Christian, laws are actually not the way we order ourselves, at least not ultimately.

I am happy to write out a long, well-reasoned post arguing the many reasons I think that it may be impossible for a politician to actually be a Christian in both profession and action.

Because the orienting factor for the Christian is not law qua law, but rather a law that is centered around the good and well being of people, especially people at the margins (because, you know, that’s where Jesus operated his ministry).

In other words, and to be timely, just because we have a law, does not mean that it is good for people, especially people on the margins of society.

And so the politician who is being honest about their faith does not orient themselves to defending the law, the Constitution, or even (gasp) some historical idea of Jesus that is undoubtedly burdened by the trappings of religiosity.

The politician who is being honest about their faith must orient themselves toward the people Jesus oriented himself toward: the weak, the sick, the vulnerable, the poor, the oppressed, those in need physically, socially, and yes, spiritually.

People tell me that they think it must be hard to be a Christian politician.  Usually they mean by this that they think a Christian politician can’t be honest about their faith because, well, they don’t allow you to pray in school (which they do, by the way, they just don’t let people in power tell others how to pray).

I agree with them: it must be hard to be a Christian and a politician.  But not because I think Christians are somehow oppressed in this country or context, though they certainly are in others…and we must not forget that.

No, I think it’s hard to be a Christian politician in these days because to live out your faith would cost you re-election (or even election in the first place).  Because you’d have to be focusing your votes and your policies not on what’s popular, but on policies that watch out for the weak, the vulnerable, the stranger, the marginalized.

You’d have to focus yourself on graceful living and loving as being the norm for your work.  Not the idea of grace and love, but the actual practice of it.

In short: you’d have to be human-focused rather than law-focused.

And as someone who might one day run for office, I offer this as an honest confession. It may be impossible to be a Christian and a politician.

My parents are in Scotland and Ireland right now, experiencing the land of my foremothers and forefathers.  My people came from the cold coasts of those islands back in the 1800’s.  They came from yonder and non, and down the line sprung me, and yet so much of my life is oriented around the assumption that I somehow earned a right to be here just because my family has been here for a hundred years.

I didn’t earn this; I won this lottery.

And how difficult it must be for people who win the lottery, but have forgotten they have, to interact with others who haven’t in a way that honors that fact.

I guess I might close by saying that, the Christian’s call is to follow Christ, which would mean giving up their lottery in many ways.

Because the lottery of God is one where everyone gets the same prize.  And, man, that must be hard to follow as a politician.

 

 

The Nashville Statement and an Islamic Tale Walked into A Bar…

926be0ae335555eb4dfe0e3eb9f2c358--sufi-quotes-jalaluddin-rumiI once heard that tortured Irish metaphysicist Peter Rollins tell this little Islamic tale:

A dervish was sitting alone one day, and a stranger came up behind him and slapped the back of his head.

The dervish whirled around, ready to defend himself, and the stranger said, “You can hit me, but first ponder this question with me: did the *smack* that we both just heard come from my hand or the back of your head?

The dervish glared at him and said, “You have the luxury of asking that question, but I do not, because I’m the one sitting here dealing with it.”

So my question to my evangelical friends who crafted and support this so-called Nashville Statement: you have a theory, loosely based on small bits of a huge tome of scripture, and not based at all in historical-critical study, that has to do with people who didn’t have a seat at the discussion table.

You released this in the middle of a huge national disaster, a few weeks after a huge white supremacist march which prompted multiple resignations from an administration that refused to outright denounce it at the highest level (but surprisingly none of those resignations came from within your advisory ranks).  You basically just reissued the same statement you’ve been trumpeting for years, chasing youth into conversion camps and suicide attempts, imperiling marriages as gay people marry straight people because there is no other option for them, continuing to be the genesis of strife in many families as parents are forced to choose between their faith and their out children.

And I want to know: “How’s this going for you?”

Because your little theory that you affirmed in this statement doesn’t take into account the people actually sitting there, dealing with it.  And every theory has to, at some point, wrestle with that refining question, “And how’s living with this perspective going for me?”

Here’s an idea: why don’t you invite a person who identifies as LGBTQ to sit with you at a bar? You bring your Nashville Statement, and they’ll bring their life story, about the fear of coming out to their family, about the shame they had to endure after that first person found out and told everyone, about how they tried to love somebody that convention told them they should and just couldn’t, about the time they contemplated (and attempted?) suicide, about falling in love but not being able to hold hands in public, about wanting children but being told by so many people that kids need a “mom and a dad.”

And then, at the end of the hour, after a few drinks (of whatever you want, don’t worry, I won’t tell), ask yourself, “How’s this statement going for me?”

Because after that, guess what: some of their experience will then be yours, if you have any semblance of a heart.

Oh, and here’s a theory: I bet many evangelicals would absolutely be open to accepting their LGBTQ kids, parents, and friends.  In fact, in their heart of hearts, my theory is that they already do.

Poet Christian Wiman writes in his heart-wrenching memoir, My Bright Abyss, “How astonishing it is, the fierceness with which we cling to beliefs that have made us miserable, or beliefs that prove to be so obviously inadequate when extreme suffering–or great joy–comes.”

Lord, this is most certainly true.

You know what I think those people in my theory are worried about?  

What other parents, kids, and friends will say.  Will they say something like this Nashville Statement?

And to them…well, I want to just encourage them to come out of the closet.

“Churches Should Behave Like Start-Ups” or “Be the Yeast, Not the Loaf”

2721032_1408333739618_acee1eadStart-ups are motivated by possibility and imagination.  They’re not just reacting to what’s going on around them, they’re forming what’s going forward.

Start-ups are interested in perfecting one or two things that they’re doing, while dreaming of that one next thing.  They’re not trying to be everything to everyone, becoming bogged down in propping up the part of their enterprise that is flailing.

Churches should behave like start-ups.  All churches, not just new churches.

Now, I get it…you don’t like comparing a church to a business model.  I don’t like the comparison much, either.  But let’s not pretend that we don’t have something to learn here.  Churches *should* excel at implementing metaphor to everyday life (looking at you, parables), so let’s metaphorically explore this, OK?

Start-ups respond to imagination; establishment responds to fires.  If you don’t spend more time on what you can do than what you used to do, you’re not responding to imagination.  Big establishment brands have just that: a brand.  But they’re constantly having to try something new to keep the brand and keep the edge (think New Coke). They’re constantly putting out fires to maintain the status quo, instead of starting new fires of inspiration.

“Thing kingdom of God is like yeast,” Jesus said, “which leavens the whole loaf.”

The yeast starts a fire in the loaf, and try as it may, the loaf can’t help but react.

Be the yeast, young grasshopper…not the loaf.

Instead of trying to keep the brand, though, why not just make innovation and imagination part of the “brand?”  Google has successfully done this (so far), as has Apple. It is possible to change the narrative, but you have to respond to dreams rather than fear.  Which brings me to my next point…

Start-ups dream and have faith; establishments fear. Once you get power, you long to stay in power.  Once you become the biggest, your quest becomes about staying the biggest.  One of the terrible things about being a start-up is the uncertainty factor of the future.  But if a start-up moves into the establishment phase, they quickly learn that the uncertainty factor never fully leaves, it just changes into fear: fear that you’ll lose market share or newness or what have you.

And so the trick, then, is to ignore the uncertainty altogether and rely on innovation and potential as your main motivator.

This doesn’t mean you don’t heed advice or warning signs in a failing endeavor.  If anything, leaning on potential and dreams will hopefully spur you to do some due diligence and research before setting out on the next new adventure you undertake.  But when big establishment thinking entrenches a system, it becomes about big conservation strategies, big consolidation efforts, and big risk-aversion…which leads to big death.

Jesus said that we are to give of ourselves for others (Matt 16:24). Which might mean that the current decline of the church might just be a sign that we’re starting to understand what Jesus means.  I’m not saying that size is indicative of discipleship (though I’ve made a claim smelling like that before), but I am saying that if we’re failing to risk on reaching out because we’re afraid it will change things and change us (and our church culture/habits/etc.), then we’re probably adopting fear rather than faith as our motivating impulse.

Start-ups make history; establishment protects history. Well, sort of.

Look: the history of your church is important.  Your church has done a lot of good in the neighborhood.  It has changed peoples lives.  It has provided a spiritual home.  Perhaps it has been a change-agent in the footsteps of Jesus for your community.  None of that can or should be denied.

But if your church is going to continue to do good in the neighborhood, to change lives, to be a spiritual home, to be a change-agent, it can’t be trying to lift up its past as some sort of golden-age of life.  Every living thing has a life cycle.  But if you want to hasten a demise, start pining for the past.

Start-ups don’t have hang-ups about the past because they don’t have one to be hung up on.  No matter how long your church has been at the corner of First and Fairbanks, every day it has a ministry opportunity that was not present yesterday, and so while it has a past, it also has tons of potential futures.  That is what you focus on, by God.

Look, I have the unfortunate lot in this work of being stuck in the post-boom years of churchgoing.  I call it unfortunate only because so many people lift up the 50’s as the standard of how churches should be and operate in America.  If you look at the 50’s, where civil religion and the church walked hand-in-hand post World War II, you’ll see an anomaly, not a norm, when it comes to church participation.

If you want a norm, check out church attendance from the 30’s.  There’ll you’ll see kind of a plumb-line.

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And, can I be honest?  While church attendance in the 50’s and 60’s may have been high, poll folks around my age and ask them if they think the society they’ve inherited is utopian.  Turns out that church attendance may not directly correlate to societal health.

Churches of the mainline: hold on to your past loosely and embrace the dreams of the future.  Innovate. Explore. Jesus calls this out of you more than anything because it’s what we need now more than anything.

In other words: be the yeast, not the loaf.