Slouching Towards Detroit

Fellow Disciples pastor Steve Knight shared a good post yesterday on the need for more missional communities, which is a fancy way of saying we need more new churches.  Why?  Beside that whole Great Commission thing, it's also because at least in mainline churches, we are growing smaller and smaller.  Here's a graph that Steve showed about our denomination, the Disciples of Christ, over the last decade:

The picture it shows about the denomination is not pretty.  (It's even worse for Episcopalians.) It shows at least over the last decade a steady decline.  As Steve notes, it doesn't show the number of new congregations added (which is now over 700), but you can't really deny that things in the Disciples of Christ are not well.

Steve starts talking about how the Mainline churches are a lot like Detroit, something that I commented on back in 2009.  As I thought about that more and more, I've started to think that if this analogy is true, mainline churches are in big, big trouble.

Comparisons to the largest city in Michigan hit home for me because Detroit is only an hour south of Flint, where I grew up.  I've seen the decline of the auto industry close up and I've seen how cities like Flint and Detroit have slowly declined and lost their luster, becoming shattered hulks of their former selves.  I've seen how these places knew the decline was happening and half-heartedly tried different schemes to bring back the shine, only to have those attempts fail.  I've seen the hope that somehow, the glory days would come roaring back, not knowing how, but just believing that it would.

The thing is, you tend to get used to the decline.  Things get a little shabby here and there, but we trick ourselves into thinking everything is okay...until it isn't.

Something similar is happening among the mainline churches.  We see the decline happening,  and we try again and again to try this scheme or that scheme in the hopes that it will right the ship.  But we really don't try hard and in someways we just expect that somehow, someway the glory days will come back.

What does this have to do with church planting?  Everything.  I'm not advocating we plant churches for the sake of saving mainline churches, thought that could be a result.  I am advocating planting churches to spread the good news of Jesus Christ.  But the problem here is that in some ways we in the mainline stopped believing in spreading the message of Christ.  We got comfortable and pursued of other agendas.  We plant churches, but sometimes the whole endeavor seems half-hearted, like we are doing something just because it seems right.

I've noticed over the years how hard it is to get people in mainline churches animated when it comes to new churches.  Plans to give money to church plants are met with skeptism.  If we have a meeting dealing with homosexuality? We get a full house and people getting all passionate.  Talk about new churches?  Crickets chirping.

This is not me just spouting off.  I've seen how people have responded in my various roles when we start talking about new churches and it seems that people just don't seem when it comes to new churches.

None of this means I'm going to give up.  I've seen utter decline and I want to see mainline Protestantism be vital in the coming decades.  But, mainline churches have to stop being comfortable with decline and be willing to give up everything to save themselves- not in the hope of getting back to the glory days, but to something new and better than before.

One more auto story.  In 2006, Ford decided to place everything it owned, down to it's blue oval logo, in hock in order to get a loan to keep the company going.  

That move was prophetic.  Two years later, the economy tanked and Ford's crosstown rivals, General Motors and Chrysler were bankrupt and running to Washington to be saved.  Ford was able to weather the storm.  Earlier this week, Ford's credit was raised from junk status and scion Bill Ford was able to get his family's logo back.

Ford was willing to let go of everything in order to survive.  It was a risky move for this century-old company to do something so bold, but it paid off in the end.  Ford is a much stronger company, more competative, coming up with some cool cars that people want to drive.

Are mainline churches willing to do something that ballsy?  Are we willing to sacrifice, to lose ourselves for God's kingdom?

I don't know.  I hope so.  Let's not get to comfortable with decline or expect easy solutions.  That roads leads to Detroit and well...you don't want that.  Trust me.

Photo: Areial view of Michigan Central Station, Detroit's main train station from 1913 until the end of Amtrak service in 1988.  The intervening 25 years have not been kind of the grand building. The website seedetroit.com notes, "Most of the interior has fallen victim to 'urban miners' who break in to steal any stone accents, wire and even copper tubing and bricks to sell as scrap. The removal of these materials causes extensive damage throughout, resulting in the interior being completely destroyed. Urban guerrilla artists have taken advantage of the vacant wall space." You can see more photos of the building by going here.

Constitutional Amendments and the Church

This fall, Minnesotans will go to the polls to vote on two constitutional amendments.  The first one would ban same-sex marriage and the second one would require photo ids before a person could vote.

Now I have my own opinions on the amendments and I'm not shy about sharing them (I'm strongly against the first and somewhat in favor of the second).  However, when it comes to the context of church and in my role as a pastor, I am less comfortable in telling people how they should feel on this issue, let alone how they should pray.

Recently, during a time when prayers were being offered, someone asked prayers on both amendments and stated their viewpoint.  It was a little bit uncomfortable for me, mainly because the prayer focused on one side of the issue and because I knew there might be folks that had differing opinions on both issues.

Normally I would say something about how we are the Body of Christ and that at the communion table we are a diverse bunch but united together in Christ.  I would say something about how churches have people from all walks of life and we need to be aware how to be church amidst the differences.

I would say all of this...but in these polarizing times, I've come to believe that we don't even see the church as a place where different people come together.  Churches are becoming like everything else in society: filled with people who tend to agree with each other.  So maybe it wasn't so odd to see someone stating their views on a political issue as if there were no other folks who might disagree; they might believe that church is just "for us."
I'm not advocating that we never talk about politics in the church.  But is there a way to talk about these issues without claiming that God is only on our side?

I don't know the answer to that.

Oh Look, Shiny Things!

I’ve always struggled a lot over what might seem very basic things. I always have but for most of my life I didn’t get it – I didn’t understand that it could just be part of the way my brain works and that I can’t force myself to be different. I think that’s what I used to do before – try to force myself to be the way I thought everyone was supposed to be. Now my attitude and approach are very different. I am aware of the every day struggles but I relax into it. I don’ t sit back passively but I don’t force myself either. It’s more like try to gently steer myself into another direction. And sometimes frankly I don’t even have the energy for that. For me this is a much more peaceful and sane way to live.

-the blogger called "autistica."

One of the things that I've started to notice since my diagnosis of Aspergers is how scattered my brain is.  It's really hard for me to focus on one thing for any amount of time.  Taking medication for ADHD helps, but my brain is still a mess.  If you were looking over my shoulder while I worked, you would see me jumping from one thing to another, reading this article here, going back to write this story there, all the while just taking in stuff and never just sitting still.

All of this makes it very hard to do work.  It's not impossible, it's just that it's difficult.  This leads me to wonder how the hell am I able to handle a full-time job and a part-time job at the same time.  For some reason, it works, but it isn't easy; it's kind of like the old saying about Ginger Rogers, she could do anything Fred Astaire could do, except backwards and in heels.

Actually, there is a more fancy name for what I'm dealing with executive function- something that those of us with Aspergers tend to lack.  Here's how one blog defined it:

• emotional control – being able to manage emotions and control behavior
• response inhibition – the capacity to think before acting and choose an appropriate response
• flexibility – the ability to deal effectively with changes in plans, transitions, and obstacles
• working memory – being able to hold information in memory while performing complex tasks
• sustained attention – paying attention and staying on task despite distraction or fatigue
• planning/prioritization – knowing how to formulate a plan and what’s important/what’s not
• task initiation – the ability to begin tasks in an efficient and timely fashion
• time management -  working within time limits or establishing a schedule to meet deadlines
• organization – the ability to create and maintain systems and keep track of information/materials
• goal-directed persistence – the capacity to set goals and follow them through to completion
• metacognition – self-awareness and self-monitoring skills

 Of course, one can learn to minimize this. It's something I'm still learning to do.  The above quote deals with executive function in kids, but let me tell ya, it's there in adults as well.  And we have to learn how to control this scatteredness in the workplace if we want our jobs.

How do others deal with this?

For the Spirit Tells Me So

When I was coming to terms with being gay, one of the obstacles that I had to deal with is the role of Scripture in my life and how it squared or didn't square with my sexuality.  I remember reading the book Is the Homosexual My Neighbor? and being shown the story in Acts 10 about Peter meeting the Gentile Corneilus.  Peter had a hard time coming to terms that a Gentile should receive the same message he had received as a Jew.  Peter had some understanding of Jewish law and he knew that Gentiles weren't welcome.

None of this made sense to Peter, so he went up to the roof to sort things out.  It was there he fell into a trance and saw a sheet being brought down from heaven.  He was told by a voice to eat the animals found on the sheet.  Peter, a good Jew, knew some of those animals weren't kosher.  He refused, but the voice comes back and says what God has made no one should call unclean.

Peter goes to meet Corneilus and tells him the good news of Jesus.  It was then that the Spirit was poured out among the Gentiles gathered and Peter asks, “These people have received the Holy Spirit just as we have. Surely no one can stop them from being baptized with water, can they?”

Scripture is not something we should ignore as Christians.  It is definitely a way we learn about who God is and our place in God's world.  But what about experience?  Can God speak through our own lives as well.  Can God be doing a new thing in the lives of others?

Catholic scholar Luke Timothy Johnson writes about how Scripture is not the only way that one can look to authority when it comes to dealing with issues like homosexuality.  He notes how Americans changed their minds radically about slavery in hearing stories about slaves in the American south:

Our situation vis-à-vis the authority of Scripture is not unlike that of abolitionists in nineteenth-century America. During the 1850s, arguments raged over the morality of slave-holding, and the exegesis of Scripture played a key role in those debates. The exegetical battles were one-sided: all abolitionists could point to was Galatians 3:28 and the Letter of Philemon, while slave owners had the rest of the Old and New Testaments, which gave every indication that slaveholding was a legitimate, indeed God-ordained social arrangement, one to which neither Moses nor Jesus nor Paul raised a fundamental objection. So how is it that now, in the early twenty-first century, the authority of the scriptural texts on slavery and the arguments made on their basis appear to all of us, without exception, as completely beside the point and deeply wrong?

The answer is that over time the human experience of slavery and its horror came home to the popular conscience—through personal testimony and direct personal contact, through fiction like Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and, of course, through a great Civil War in which ghastly numbers of people gave their lives so that slaves could be seen not as property but as persons. As persons, they could be treated by the same law of love that governed relations among all Christians, and could therefore eventually also realize full civil rights within society. And once that experience of their full humanity and the evil of their bondage reached a stage of critical consciousness, this nation could neither turn back to the practice of slavery nor ever read the Bible in the same way again.

 Johnson then goes to the book of Acts to see how the early church dealt with accepting Gentiles:

I refer to the account of the Acts of the Apostles (chapters 10–15) concerning the church’s decision to include Gentiles in the church without requiring them to be circumcised or to observe the Mosaic law. Luke’s narrative shows how God moved ahead of the human characters in accepting Gentiles as righteous, and how difficult it was for the church’s leaders to learn what God was up to. It shows, however, that Peter and Paul and James were open to the truth God wanted them to learn. They paid attention to human narratives—testimonies—that spoke of God at work among Gentiles in ways that not even Jewish believers in a crucified messiah could appreciate. The apostles had to be shown how the same Holy Spirit who had come upon them also came to those very unlike them, people whom they regarded as unclean by nature and evil in their practices. When shown the evidence of transformed lives, they saw and accepted what God was doing.

Accepting Gentiles as beloved of God was, to be sure, but one step, however dramatic and difficult. Harder still was finding a way for Jews and Gentiles to live together, sharing table fellowship in a world that took the body symbolism of eating at least as seriously as that of sex. Compromises on both sides were required for the church to remain united despite such important differences (Acts 15:20–21). Acts provides an example for us of the church discerning God’s activity in human lives, being obedient in faith to God’s self-disclosure in such stories, and then reinterpreting Scripture in light of the experience of God.

I suggest, therefore, that the New Testament provides impressive support for our reliance on the experience of God in human lives—not in its commands, but in its narratives and in the very process by which it came into existence. In what way are we to take seriously the authority of Scripture? What I find most important of all is not the authority found in specific commands, which are fallible, conflicting, and often culturally conditioned, but rather the way Scripture creates the mind of Christ in its readers, authorizing them to reinterpret written texts in light of God’s Holy Spirit active in human lives. When read within the perspective of a Scripture that speaks everywhere of a God disclosing Godself through human experience, our stories become the medium of God’s very revelation.

 Some of my favorite bloggers especially when it comes to politics tend to also be social conservatives.  Rod Dreher and Ross Douthat have made worthwhile defenses in what they believe is the traditional church understanding on same sex marriage.  (Worthwhile in the sense that they were thoughtful responses even if I don't agree with them.)  Both writers tend to make an appeal Scripture and tradition on this matter, two areas where there seems to be a strike against same sex marriage if homosexuality in general.  

But experience matters as well.  Not in the sense in legitimizing whatever we do in our lives, but in seeing how God might be speaking in the lived lives of people, like Corneilus and seeing where God shows up.  

Experience can be faulty, but so can Scripture and Tradition.  We live in an imperfect world with imperfect ways of understanding God.  But God is not simply found in the pages of the Bible or in the traditions of the church.  God is living and breathing in the world and we have to have the eyes to see and the hearts to believe.

 

We Can't Be Friends

It was about 20 years ago, that I attended a large Baptist church in Washington, DC.   The church was an odd mix, or at least it would be odd today.  Evangelicals and liberals were somehow able to worship together, along side a healthy dose of members from Latin America and Asia.

The church decided at some point to hire a pastor to the join the good-sized multi-pastor staff.  The person chosen was a woman with great pastoral care skills.  At the time, there was a bit of controversy because she was pro-gay and some of the evangelicals in the church weren't crazy about that.

I was at a meeting where a member of the congregation stood up.  She was one of the evangelical members of the congregation and she had what could be considered a "traditional" understanding on homosexuality, but she spoke in favor of calling the pastor.  You see, the pastor had been involved with congregation for a few years and the two had gotten to know each other.  "We don't agree," I recall this woman saying when talking about the issue they didn't see eye-to-eye on.  But this woman was a good friend and she saw her as the right person for the job.

What's so interesting about this story is that I don't think it could happen today.  Churches like the one in DC really don't exist anymore.  Evangelicals and liberals have sorted themselves into different churches and don't really know each other.  Which only makes it easier to highlight differences and demonize each other.

When it comes to the issue of gay rights the two camps talk past each other, having very different objectives that the other side just doesn't get.

For liberals, this is about equality.  Framed by the story of the civil rights movement, they see any attempt to block same-sex marriage or gay clergy as akin to denying African Americans the right to vote.

For evangelicals, this is about conscience.  They feel they must be faithful to what they believe the Bible is telling them when it comes to sexual morality.  They see any approval of gay sex as going against God's commands.

These differences were there 20 years ago, but I think there might have also been more opportunity to come together and meet the other.  Our self-selected society allows us to basically pick our friends instead of trying to build bridges with those who might be different.

Why am I telling this story?  I don't really know, except that maybe I would like us to find ways were we can learn to disagree without being so disagreeable.

Civility is all the talk in our political culture, mostly because it seems like we have less and less of it.  We have made it a civic value, but I want to lift up the fact that it should also be a moral and biblical value.  We have to learn ways to respect and honor one another; not papering over our differences, but finding ways to still care for each other even when we disagree.  Evangelical church planter Tim Keller said it best a year ago:

AMANPOUR: You talk about polarization between left and right. It does seem to be extreme, at the moment, in the United States politically, socially. Is there any hope that that can change, do you think?

KELLER: It will start if we stop demonizing each other. I -- my -- my -- my elderly mother once said that up until about 15 years ago, if you voted for a different person for president and the person you voted against became president, you still considered him your president. He said -- she said 15 years ago, that changed, that if you voted against that guy and he became president, you actually act as if he's illegitimate. And I'm not sure that is a big social and cultural difference. We -- and it really means the other side isn't really just wrong, they're kind of evil. And that's pretty bad.

MANPOUR: I have to say that many would say the church plays into this highly acrimonious debate -- public debate, not all church, but certainly some parts of the church. What should the church be doing different?
KELLER: At the very least, we should be creating individuals who know how to talk civilly. The gospel should create people who say, I'm loved by God but I'm -- I'm a sinner. So there -- there should be a certain humility and graciousness about the way in which you talk to everybody. As an institution, most of the churches have lost a lot of credibility. So I think my job is to create individuals who can participate in civil discourse.

AMANPOUR: You're saying institutionally, the church has lost credibility?

KELLER: The mainline church identified with liberal politics, the Evangelicals have identified, at least they're identified in people's minds, with conservative politics. The Catholic Church has had the sex scandals. And so institutionally, each church has lost credibility. So I think it's our job as individual congregations to care for the poor, to produce civil -- people who speak civilly, to just serve our neighborhoods and serve people and be careful about speaking ex-cathedra, you know, about these great political positions on issues.

 I would disagree with Keller in that I do think the church has a right to speak out on issues and there are some issues where we have to be clear where we stand.  But that doesn't mean we don't try to look at our sister and brothers as if they are evil.  We can find ways to be civil in maybe in some way speak to people about what church is all about.

What a witness that would be.

Repost: In the Middle

The following post is from April of 2008.  In light of the recent goings on at the United Methodist General Conference, I thought this might be a good post to share again.

I've been a mainline Protestant for about 16 years. I grew up in the evangelical and black churches and found the mainline churches a breath of fresh air...for a time. In many ways it still is a better option than what I grew up with, but as I stayed, I started to notice that a more liberal Christianity had some of the same blind spots that their more conservative brethren had.

One thing I've noticed is how much many progressive Christians talk about the importance of community. I agree with that. But at some point, I've noticed that for some community is less a place where there are people with different thoughts and backgrounds, than a place where everyone thinks the same and where no one has to be challenged with a different viewpoint.

Carroll Howard Merritt shares in this post about how good it is to be in a place where she can preach what she wants to preach. She notes:

I’m in a progressive church now. There are very few things that I can’t say here, as a peace-loving feminist. I spend a lot less time worrying, and a lot more time ministering. With that freedom, my preaching’s gotten much more authentic and a whole lot better.

And I can’t help but notice that my writing’s gone from a crashing, swirling, damned-up pool to a steady, flowing stream, because I’m not calculating the consequences of every word. My mind has more space to think. I don’t have to worry about losing my job if someone takes the time to read what I have to say. I have more creativity here, I sense the Spirit moving more.

This leads me to thinking. Maybe the Spirit is moving, but maybe it's also that she is in a place where everyone agrees with what she is saying. It's easier to be "prophetic" when you are preaching to choir.

She also is frustrated by those who are looking for a middle way:

So, is there any way that we can move our discussions from looking for some sort of middle ground to allowing freedom for people? Instead of rushing to moderation, could we each forge a path where we are and have a vision for more than one way? Or is that an inherently liberal position?

You know, I’m just concerned about all those people who are trying to find their way. I know there are members in our church who couldn’t attend most congregations in the country. But they’ve found a path to God in our progressive Christian community. And, I admit, I’m concerned about me. And other leaders on this path. Because it’s just so much easier when we don’t have to pretend to be a moderate.

Her concern is that rushing to the middle leaves out those on the edges. I can understand to a point, but what about those who are truly in the middle? Not all of us are out protesting at abortion clinics or at a peace march. We have our issues, but we aren't as strident those on the edge. In many cases, we want the church to focus on worshipping God and feeding the hungry instead of fighting the latest battle in the culture wars. I think sometimes there is a rush to the middle because some of us don't want a repeat of what we see in the wider culture, where everything is seen in the terms of red/blue, liberal/conservative.

And maybe instead of seeing this as the middle, it's more about trying to live in true community. You see, when I think of community, I think more of something like living in a small town or your family. You have relatives you love and those you don't care for. But they are all part of the family and you try to live together. My problem at times when I hear churches talk about "community" it's really about creating spaces where everyone thinks just like you do. But in my view, that's not community.

Community is when you can worship with an old man who doesn't condone you being gay and yet cares for you and likewise.

Community is when you can still love your fellow pastor even when they rant about the President or the way and you happen to have opposite views.

I think the "middle ground" is a place where we can see all of our differences and yet see Christ in each other. That's community.

Leviticus Revisited

Methodist Blogger Morgan Guyton gives the best understanding of what Leviticus 18:22 meant and what it might mean for us today.  Here's a snippet:

In 1956, United Methodists decided that Paul’s admonition in 1 Timothy 2:12 not to “permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man” had an appropriate application in the early church that is no longer binding today. We decided to ordain women to the ministry, thus officially proclaiming patriarchy to be obsolete. I do not think that God’s mercy and love have been compromised by having female clergy. I have been blessed tremendously by the particular form of nurture and exhortation that female pastors can provide. Likewise, following the best Biblical interpretation I can muster, I feel that the concerns that once made homosexuality a legitimate threat to the fabric of ancient patriarchal society are no longer applicable today. I am open to being persuaded otherwise, but please give me more than a list of verses plucked out of context or an abstract argument about the nature of gender.

 Read the whole thing.  He makes one of the best Biblical cases in a long time, one that goes beyond the "let's-be-inclusive" trope that too many of us too easily use.

Hospitality: Still at the Starting Line

I've been an avid reader of Frederick Schmidt's blog for nearly a year now.  I've really enjoyed his columns which urge us to ask what it truly means to follow Jesus in our modern world.  Today he takes on some proposed changes in the Episcopal Church.  One such proposal asks that communion "ought to be offered knowingly and in principle to anyone and everyone as an act of hospitality."

To which Schmidt replies:

The Eucharist is an act of hospitality? I've heard the arguments. It's an evangelistic opportunity. It's inclusive to offer it to everyone. To suggest that it's just for the baptized is exclusionary.

There's a problem with those arguments: The Eucharist is for the baptized and it is exclusive. It's for people who faced the darkness and said, I "renounce Satan and the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God," then faced the light and vowed, "I turn to Jesus Christ" and I accept him as my Savior.

To erase those boundaries by offering the Eucharist as an act of hospitality is to erase the demands of the Gospel. It trivializes baptism. And it finally erases the reason for being a church.

Boundaries may sometimes feel as if they exclude, but they are, in the first place, the only way we have of saying what it means to belong, to commit, to follow, to journey into Christ. If you haven't made that commitment, it doesn't mean I don't love you. It doesn't mean that God doesn't love you. It doesn't mean your mother doesn't love you. It means you haven't begun that journey.

Coffee, as an act of hospitality, is available in the narthex.

Now, I think hospitality is an important thing for the church to be a taking part in.  I've preached it often.   I've heard the same arguements and I've even made those arguements.  Disciples and Episcopalians have different understandings of the communion, but at its base, Schmidt's argument is far more sound.

I'm not saying we should not be welcoming to people and I'm not saying that we should not be hospitable to all those who enter the doors of the church as well as those outside of the church.  When it comes to issues like welcoming LGBT folks, we should be hospitable.

But I wonder at times if we have basically jettisoned the "meat" our faith in order to have the rest of society like us.  Hospitality is a vital value, but too often Mainline churches tend to leave it at that.  We talk about welcoming folks and being inclusive, but we then go no further.  Sometimes I wonder if we've made hospitality an idol and in the end destroying the very thing we want to welcome people to: the church.

The whole topic of the gathered community has been heavy on my thoughts for about a year now.  I've been wondering what does it mean to be church and how we are called to be a light to the world.  We talk about mission, but without discipleship, without being formed by Christ and the community of believers we are left with nothing more than doing good works.  When Jesus called people to follow him, he was asking them to take a pretty hard journey.  Are we willing to share that part of being a Christian with others?

Hospitality is good and important.  But it's time that Mainline churches get past the starting line.

Cross and Kingdom

I just finished Scot McKnight's great book called the King Jesus Gospel and I've started reading N.T. Wright's book How God Became King.  Both deal with what the Gospels are really all about though from different theological traditions; McKnight from an evangelical perspective and Wright from a more Mainline Protestant view.  McKnight has some good views on how hard it is for Christians to keep the Kingdom of God and Christ's Cross together:

It is too easy to want kingdom and forget the cross, or make it part of one’s agenda; and it is too easy to want cross, and not know what to make of the kingdom. But Israel’s Story, Israel’s God, the people of God, and the clash of the forces of evil with the ways of God always combine kingdom with cross.

I see the temptations this way, and I see them too often: for some the kingdom is about justice and the first thing that disappears when folks get tied into social justice too often is a weakening of the atoning cross (the cross becomes the story of sacrifice for others or the greatest injustice). For others the cross is so central, and by that I mean substitutionary atonement and the mechanics of how that cross works, that kingdom becomes little more than those who have experienced personal salvation or justification or reconciliation.

If you haven't read either book, do so now.  

Paul Ryan, Mother Teresa and Satan

There's been a lot of talk lately, criticism really, about the budget released by Republican Congressman Paul Ryan.  I wrote on my political blog about a year ago that I thought it wasn't a perfect budget and even had some problems with it, but that it was a good start by the GOP.  Then as now, there has been a cascade of criticism from folks about how the Ryan plan "radical"  and some even questioning Ryan's faith.  What has bothered a lot of folks is that Ryan said that his Catholic faith helped shaped his budget.  Here's what he said earlier this month:

...Ryan made a moral case for his budget, saying that the government shouldn’t be responsible for lifting its citizens out of poverty — rather, that it’s the obligation of the citizens themselves to be society’s caretakers.

“Through our civic organizations, through our churches, through our charities, through all of our different groups where we interact with people as a community, that’s how we advance the common good, by not having Big Government crowd out civic society, but by having enough space in our communities so that we can interact with each other, and take care of people who are down and out in our communities,” Ryan said.

“Those principles are very, very important, and the preferential option for the poor, which is one of the primary tenants of Catholic social teaching, means don’t keep people poor, don’t make people dependent on government so that they stay stuck at their station in life, help people get out of poverty, out into a life of independence.” ...

Presbyterian blogger Michael Kruse is half joking when he responds to the article:

So is it possible that people from different political vantage points who genuinely care about poverty might come to dramatically different conclusions about the moral thing to do? Nah. I'm going with one side or the other has to be Satan incarnate while the other is Mother Teresa. ;-)

Obviously the answer to Kruse's question is, no, people of faith can only have one viewpoint on how to deal with poverty.  Columnist Dana Milbank takes Ryan to task and lauds the Catholic bishops and theologians who have spoken out against Ryan:

There is something un-Christian about the Gospel According to Paul Ryan. So, at least, says Ryan’s Catholic Church.

In an interview with the Christian Broadcasting Network’s David Brody this month, Ryan, the author of the House Republican budget endorsed by Mitt Romney, said his program was crafted “using my Catholic faith” as inspiration. But the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops was not about to bless that claim.

A week after Ryan’s boast, the bishops sent letters to Congress saying that the Ryan budget, passed by the House, “fails to meet” the moral criteria of the Church, namely its view that any budget should help “the least of these” as the Christian Bible requires: the poor, the hungry, the homeless, the jobless. “A just spending bill cannot rely on disproportionate cuts in essential services to poor and vulnerable persons,” the bishops wrote.

In fact, Ryan would cut spending on the least of these by about $5 trillion over 10 years — from Medicaid, food stamps, welfare and the like — and then turn around and award some $4 trillion in tax cuts to the most of these. To their credit, Catholic leaders were not about to let Ryan claim to be serving God when in fact he was serving mammon.

“Your budget,” a group of Jesuit scholars and other Georgetown University faculty members wrote to Ryan last week, “appears to reflect the values of your favorite philosopher, Ayn Rand, rather than the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Her call to selfishness and her antagonism toward religion are antithetical to the Gospel values of compassion and love.”

 What bothers folk is that Ryan uses his Catholic faith as reason for his budget.  Frankly, I don't see anything heretical about that arguement.  Just as say, someone like Congressman John Lewis is grounded in his Baptist faith.  It is possible to be people of faith and yet come to different conclusions on issues.  That doesn't mean that I love his budget wholesale.  But I do think its important to give people the benefit of the doubt and trust that two people from the same faith can come from different conclusions on the same issue.  It's one thing to think his budget has issues and needs refinement, it's another to basically slam him for coming to different way of seeing things from how you see them.

What bothers me about the criticism against Ryan is the assumption that to governmental support to care for the poor is supported in the Bible.  The thing is, the Bible talks a lot about caring for the poor, but it never says how to do that.  For some, caring for the poor means giving to local and international charities.  For others, it means creating government programs.  I'm not arguing that we should never use government to help the poor, but I am saying that the call to aid the least of these with government help is not supported in Scripture.  God doesn't tell us how to care for the poor, but demands that we get it done.

Which gets me back to Michael Kruse's "joke."  The bile that has risen against the Ryan budget makes me think that debate even among Christians on public policy is becoming increasingly impossible.  If we can't debate the merits and demerits of this budget without delving into demonization, then what can we discuss? 

(I need to add that conservatives are not better when it comes to debate and discernment either.)

What I long for is finding ways that people of faith can come and debate an issue and be open to where the Spirit of God leads instead of immediately pointing fingers, hiding behind the Bible and condemning others that don't agree with them.  I wish we'd stop seeing ourselves as Mother Teresas and the other side as Satan incarnate.  I long for the time when the people of God are more willing to discern than to demonize.

Repost: Aspie Reflections: What Do You Do With An MDiv?

The following post is from May 2008, just after I received my Aspergers diagnosis. One of things I was thinking of back then is how to be a pastor with autism.  I don't think I have the answers today, but I think I'm a bit more confident that God does have a place for me in ministry.

Last night, I watched the Associate Pastor at the church I am a part of. We had our weekly prayer service- now biweekly during the summer months- and she was talking with two members of our congregation whose daughter, son-in-law and children were brutally affected by a tornado that hit the northern Twin Cities suburbs. She was skilled in being truly a pastor to them during this horrible time. As watched this scene, it occurred to me: I couldn't do what she is doing- or at least it doesn't come to me as naturally.

Today, at another meeting, I saw a young guy who is a pastor at a local UCC church. Again, he has the social skills that make him an excellent pastor. And I thought again, I don't have those skills.

While I am relieved about my diagnosis of Aspergers, it leaves me with a big question regarding vocation: what in the world do you do with a pastor that has autism?

I've been around long enough to know that pastors tend to be social beings. They are supposed to be the kind of people who can connect with others. They "get" social cues. They know how to deal with sudden change. So what about someone like me who isn't any of that? How in the world can I be a pastor if I don't have those skills?

This doesn't mean I am planning on hanging up my stole (though that has crossed my mind). But I just don't know what to do here. I know that I can't be a solo pastor of a church. There is way too much instability for me to process it all and I know I would end up pissing people off with my aspie ways.

For a long time, I've wondered where I fit in the church. I knew I didn't fit, but didn't know why. But now I need to figure out how to use my gifts in ministry, how to use my Aspergers not as a deficit, but as an advantage.

I know that I need to be in environments that are structured and have some sense of stability. That has made me think of some kind of Associate Ministry. However, at least in the metro area, there are no possibilities for that kind of ministry among Disciple churches and very few in UCC circles. I guess I could start looking outstate and see what happens.

What I have wanted to do is to maybe create some kind of ministry in a congregation where I would be on staff probably bivocational. Maybe it would be to perform worship or lead Christian Education. But it would be something that is regimented.

One of the stories in the Bible that I love is the story of Gideon. Gideon was called by God to lead an army against the Midianites. The trouble is, Gideon is a coward. But God uses him and just to make sure Gideon knows that it is God doing this and not Gideon, he sends Gideon into battle with only 300 men using pots. It was that ragtag army, led by a scaredy cat, that defeated the mighty Midianites.

The story shows that God doesn't use the most qualified persons to do God's will. So if God can call someone like Gideon, God can call me.

I just need to find what in the world that is.

Making a Case for Being Open and Affirming

The church where I'm the Associate Pastor (First Christian Church in Minneapolis) is considering becoming an official Open and Affirming Congregation in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).  The congregation has a long history of welcoming gay and lesbian folk into the life of the congregation, so in many ways they have been a living example of being Open and Affirming.  I wrote this for the church newsletter sharing why the church should take this next step.  My one frustration is that I really didn't do as good a job on making a theological case.  The text is below.

So, What’s the Big Deal?

At the April board meeting, a proposal was put forward to have First Christian become officially an Open and Affirming congregation.  For those who are unaware, Open and Affirming is a network of churches within the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) that openly welcome gays and lesbians.

This isn’t the first time First Christian has considered this.  Whenever the issue has been brought up, there is a common refrain that I hear: “we already welcome gays and lesbians.  Why do we need make this step?”

I understand this because I’ve seen how you have lived out your welcome to everyone that enters the door of the church.  You have welcomed gay and lesbians to not only worship and participate in the life of the congregation, but you have also supported having LBGT persons in positions of leadership.  Speaking as an openly gay man, I am ever thankful for your acceptance of me and allowing me to be one of your ministers.  So, I don’t doubt for a moment that you while you might not wear the name “Open and Affirming” on your sleeves, you live it out in your daily walk.  You truly believe that God welcomes everyone to the Table and you put that faith into action.

So, why should First Christian take this step?  

I have two reasons: one is more practical and the other more theological.

People wonder why we need to publicly welcome gay people in a way that we don’t do when it comes to other groups such as African Americans or Hispanics.  The difference though is that being gay is somewhat different that being African American.  You all know that I’m African American by looking at me.  But you can’t tell by looking at me that I’m also gay.  Being gay can be somewhat of a “hidden” difference.  You can’t really tell someone is gay until they say they are gay.  Because it is hidden, this leads to a lot of assumptions.  If a young woman comes to church, people might assume she either has a boyfriend or husband instead of thinking she might have a girlfriend.  Also because there has been a history of churches not being so friendly to homosexuals which causes gays and lesbians to assume that a church is not friendly towards them- unless there is a visible sign that says they are welcomed.

The second reason is theological.  The ministry of Jesus and later the ministry of the church was one that tended to cross various boundaries.  Jesus engaged people who were outside of the Jewish community he was born into.  He talked to Samaritans and Romans and always brought salvation to those who crossed his path.  The early church also was led by the Holy Spirit to minister to the wider Roman world, which was a melting pot of various ethinicities.  The church of the 21st century is also a diverse place, and the Spirit calls us again to go out and minister to various cultures, preaching the message of salvation in Christ.  Welcoming gay and lesbians publicly is a way of stating that the gospel is for them as much as it is for anyone else.  The apostles of the early church were witnesses to the saving acts of Christ, and two millenia later, we are still called to be witness to the Jesus we encounter.

In the words of the design of the Christian Church, First Christian really has “In Christ's name and by his grace we accept our mission of witness and service to all people.”  We have lived our inclusive witness of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  I think it might be something we want to tell the whole world about.

New Name

As you can see from the banner, I've changed the name of the blog (again).  I think this should be the last change.  The reason was Questor Pastor was a little to obscure for folk, unless they happen to know about the 1974 TV-Movie the Questor Tapes, written by Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry.  There were hopes it would become a series, but it never did. 

Anyway, back to the story.  I wanted to find a title that still focused on robots and ministry and the title that came up was The Clockwork Pastor.  I don't know if I've found my robot yet, so the old one will work for now.

The URL or Feed doesn't change, so don't worry about having to learn a new webaddress. 

Repost: The Positives of Being an Apsie Pastor

Since it's Autism Awareness Month, I wanted to share some old posts on being a pastor with autism.  This one is from 2008 and talks about the positives of being a minister who happens to be autistic.

I've been wondering for a while what good is it to have Apergers when you are a pastor. I know I won't be the bubbly personality that churches long for, and I won't be able to handle situations where everything changes constantly.

But I do think there are some things a pastor who has Aspergers can do. I stumbled accross a list of positive traits of those with an autistic spectrum disorder. Here are some that I think are important in my situation:

2. People on the Autism Spectrum Live in the Moment

What I have found so interesting as a pastor, is how churches tend to be focused everywhere but right now. If someone has an idea, the first thing people want to do is study it. That isn't a bad thing, but sometimes it seems like a way to not do something. I think that Aspies tend to be focused on the now and aren't thinking far ahead about consequences.

One morning, I talked with Daniel about my lack of common sense. He noticed that I just tend to do something, not thinking about the consequences, while he is thinking about every possible reaction.

Churches seem to want to wait for something to happen. When the right pastor comes. When the new bishop arrives. When the new youth pastor is hired. Then something will happen. But the fact is NOW is the time. If churches and especially mainline churches are going to change and thrive, they have to stop waiting for When. They need to start living in the NOW.

4. Autistic People are Passionate

My biggest passions are trying to get the church out into cyberspace and good worship and preaching. My eagerness in those areas tend to bother others, probably because I'm so focused and passionate on those things. But really, don't you WANT to have a pastor that's excited rather than one that is friendly, but passionless? I've been around enough pastors that are basically coasting, and it ain't pretty. You might have an odd pastor if you call one that is an aspie, but they will be passionate about their call.

5. People with Autism Are Not Tied to Social Expectations

For some reason, pastors are some of the best people at trying to keep up appearances. They might be suffering from terrible depression, but will never reveal it to others or even get help because of pride.

An aspie pastor doesn't care about social expectations. They are who they are. I recently shared my diagnosis with a fellow pastor and he was glad I was being so honest about this since most pastors tend to not share their messy parts. I found that rather odd and still do. Why would one hide their problem? Why would one not seek help? Isn't that the logical and Christian thing to do? Aren't we supposed to live honest lives?

The fact is, my having Aspergers doesn't mean I need to give up my call. No, I won't be your typical pastor. But as the old saying goes, why be normal?

Repost: Notes from a Reluctant Liberal Christian

This was originally posted in January 2011.

A few years ago, a dear friend of mine described me as an evangelical turned liberal Protestant.  I remember blanching at that definition.  Politically, I tend to lean more center-right/libertarian.  Theologically, I'm pretty orthodox.

But the fact is, I am a liberal Protestant these days.  I'm ordained into a mainline Protestant denomination (Disciples of Christ) and I have standing in another denomination that in some cases is the very embodiment of liberal Protestantism (the United Church of Christ).

I've been a part of mainline Protestantism for nearly 20 years.  In the years after college, I found the evangelicalism of my youth wanting and left it seeking a better fit.  I found that in mainline churches.  I should add, that I never looked down on evangelical past; I think it is still a worthy tradition and it made me who I am.  But, my home is now in a different tradition.

And yet it has at times been an uneasy fit.  Don't get me wrong; I am thankful for a tradition that honors diversity.  My evangelical roots would never accept an open gay pastor, but liberal Protestantism did.  It has also been on the forefront of issues such as civil rights and helped give women a more equal footing in America.

But while in many ways, I am liberal in my theology, I feel at times that the liberalism I am talking about is from another era.  Some of my uneasiness is reflected in Bruce Reyes-Chow's excellent essay on the good and bad liberal Christianity.  Unlike me, he is way more comfortable wearing the liberal label, but he also able to be critical of it:

Over the past few months I have found myself frustrated a lot.  Sitting on the sidelines observing a few interactions between Christians with whom I find theological and ideological commonality, I've found myself whispering under my breath, "I love ya. I agree with ya. But you are really not helping." It seems that in an attempt to respond to actions and words that we liberals feel are wrong, even destructive, we often do more harm than good.

Now I realize that for me to make such broad sweeping statements is pretty arrogant and I fully admit my participation in most of the following accusations in my life. But let me be equally arrogant in saying that if the liberal or progressive church - and we can fight over "liberal," "progressive," etc. definitions HERE - is going to lead the way forward in the church and be part of a larger cultural conversation about morals and faith, we have got to quit shooting ourselves in the proverbial foot and driving people away from our particular approach to faith and life.

His post reads as a love letter to his fellow liberals, telling them to do good work, but also calling them on where they fall short.

On the other hand, Walter Russell Mead's essay from last year reads like a letter from a longsuffering wife to her cheating husband.  He rails against liberal Christianity's willingness to get in bed with the political left at the expense of the life of the church:

In the mainline churches, which is what I know best, the political views leaders express are generally those of what could be called the ‘foundation left’ — emotionally grounded in concern for the poor and development, historically linked to the ‘new left’ mix of economic and social concerns as developed in the 1960′s, shaped by an atmosphere of privilege and entitlement that reflects the upper middle class background of the educated professionals who run these institutions.  The social sins they deplore are those of the right: excessive focus on capitalism, too robust and unheeding a promotion of the American national and security interest abroad, insufficient care for the environment, failure to help the poor through government welfare programs, failure to support affirmative action, failure to celebrate and protect the unrestricted right of women to abort.  I am of course speaking very generally here and there are lots of individual exceptions, but many of these folks are generally tolerant of theological differences and rigidly intolerant when it comes to political differences: they care nothing at all about doctrines like predestination but get very angry with people who disagree with them about issues like global warming or immigration reform.  Theological heresy is a matter for courtesy and silence, but political heretics fill them with bile.

Back in the days of the civil rights movement and the Vietnam war, it was news when Episcopal bishops sided in public with liberal causes.  It took real courage for bishops and priests to speak up in some cases; one of the clergymen in the town where I grew up had been driven from his last parish in Alabama because he spoke up for the Montgomery bus boycott led by Martin Luther King.  Other priests received death threats; some who participated in the Freedom Rides and other demonstrations were beaten by angry mobs.

But these days an Episcopal bishop would have to go to a lot of trouble to get into the news for backing a liberal political cause.  The headline says it all: Liberal Official of Small, Declining Liberal Denomination Endorses Liberal Idea.  This isn’t news for two reasons: it is utterly predictable and it doesn’t matter.  Trivial and predictable are not news, and the political stands that the mainline clergy take are almost always both.  A statement by an Episcopal bishop will not change one mind or one vote; at least in all my years in the pews I’ve never met a single Episcopalian who said that the opinion of a bishop does or should have the slightest influence on how Episcopalians vote and if the churchgoers aren’t paying attention to the bishops I can’t imagine anyone else is.

I’m not urging the bishops to change their politics.  I’m urging them to shut up.  More precisely, I’m urging them to base their ministry on a clearer understanding of their situation and their role.

It's important to note that both Reyes-Chow and Mead are liberal Christians from mainline Protestant denominations.  Both talk about the decline of the mainline church.  But where Reyes-Chow has a more sunny and hopeful view, Mead is far more dire- his post is fire and brimstone.

In many ways, I feel that I have both views living inside of me.  There are days that I am more like Reyes-Chow, wanting to gently admonish people who I consider my friends, and there are days I want to rip them a new hole.

I would agree with Mead that liberal Christianity has become too chumy with the political left.  I've long agreed that American evangelicalism sold itself out to the GOP, but it didn't take me long to figure out that mainline Christians had done the same with the Democrats.  What's frustrating at times is to see Christians have mirrored the larger world: Team Red on one side and Team Blue on the other.

I'm not asking that liberal Christians who are politically liberal change their ideology, but could we not try to ape the larger society?  Can  we be willing to critical of the political left as we are of the political right?  Can we worry less about getting people to support this viewpoint and give people the tools to think as Christians in the world, influencing culture in different ways? Can we find a way to separate partisan politics from faith? Can the church be follwers of Jesus and not try to make Jesus the mascot of either party?

I guess what I'm asking is that we find ways to talk about justice without it devolving into some kind of pep-rally for this or that political party.  When I work on issues like homelessness or poverty, I want to help people think of how they can put their faith to work, not to tell them to support an agenda.

Blogger Nathan Gilmour had this to say about justice, the political left and right in a commentary on last Sunday's texts:

...far too often any old cause of the New Left gets baptized in the name of being not-fundamentalist, and far too little inspection and criticism happens, especially when libertarian/capitalist categories of “choice” and “rights” rather than Christian practices like hospitality and thankfulness govern Christian discourse about “issues.” The univocality of Being once again threatens what I take to be genuine Christian reflection in these circles as well: throwing one’s time, effort, money, and sometimes more behind the DNC (just as much as the GOP) machine far too often requires participation in the Manichean machinery of American political discourse, and  such participation far too often loses sight of the common lot of mortals in light of the strong analogical difference between God and humanity.  (And there are few more dishonest moments than when a dedicated New-Left Democrat says that “this is not a left-right issue”: if I had money to gamble, I would bet every time that the next line out of the New-Left Democrat’s mouth is going to be party-line social liberalism.)  Not unlike the Right-Wingers that the Christian Left (rightly) holds in suspicion, the stance in favor of some kinds of Social Justice tends towards a strong division: contract-enforcement for one’s political enemies and seeking-for-shalom for one’s political friends.  The urge is neither inhuman nor unexpected, but it’s not all that different from its mirror image.  The hesed and the mishphat that Micah points to in this week’s reading call everyone to account and to repentance, not in the spirit of some flattened “moral equivalence” but in the realization that, when seen in the light of analogically different divine justice and kindness, no mortal’s sense of the good life should remain un-illuminated.  Perhaps the best place to start is indeed to walk humbly.

Walking humbly.  It sounds like a good start for all of us.

Repost: Why Gay Marriage IS a Big Deal

I wrote this post originally back in 2009 on my political blog, NeoMugwump.  Some things have changed since then, such as Washington State moving towards the legalization of same-sex marriage.  In light of the upcoming vote this November in Minnesota to define marriage as between a man and a woman, I thought about digging up this post again.  I still think those of us that support same-sex marriage are still making some of the same mistakes today.  

Like many gay Americans, I awoke this morning to the news that Maine voted for repealing a law allowing same sex couples to marry. I was saddened by the fact. And like clockwork, a lot of my friends starting saying bad things about the people of Maine and threatening not to spend any money there.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, Washington State approved a referendum that allowed domestic partnerships in the Evergreen State.

The win apparent win in Washington (which has seemingly been ignored among gays and our supporters) has started me thinking about how to best allow gays marriage rights. I've vacilated between calling for full marriage equality and calling it a marriage, and asking for something like a marriage ala civil unions. Yesterday's decisions has made me think that it's time to change how we work for marriage rights.

I think one thing that those of us who support same sex marriage have to admit is that asking that straight America get used to two people of the same sex getting married is a radical shift in how we think about marriage and love. Yeah, I know, getting married is not radical, it's as normal as two hetros getting married. But the fact is, that the thought of two people of the same sex getting married is still something that a lot of Americans can't get their heads around. It's not that they are all closet bigots. They can understand and accept gays in society. They can understand that gay people fall in love. But when we start talking about marriage, it starts to get confusing for them. Think about it for a moment. When the average Joe thinks about marriage, they think about bridal gowns and bachelor parties. But all of this is lost on most of us that support gay marriage. Listen to what Conor Friedersdorf says:

Would the legalization of gay marriage really be a “radical redefinition” of the social and cultural institution? Maybe same sex marriage is a radical departure from marriage as understood by orthodox Christians, or people for whom it is primarily a procreative union.

But I submit that a majority of Americans subscribe to a definition that more closely resembles the following: Marriage is the union of people who fall in love with one another, decide that they want to spend the rest of their lives together, and commit to do so monogamously. The definition I’ve offered isn’t merely more commonly accepted among Americans than whatever Rod Dreher would describe, it is perfectly consistent with marriage laws as now written.

I think Conor is off on a lot of points. For one, most gay marriage supporters, myself included, think about marriage as a contractual and legal mechanisim in addition to all the things about love and monogamy. But I would argue that most Americans don't think about marriage in such terms and focus on all the cultural aspects: the photos, the bridal gown, the wedding ceremony and the like. All of that contractual stuff is handled off to side usually after the wedding ceremony, where the state certified officant and the bride and groom sign their marriage license. It's an afterthought.

Second, if most Americans think this way, then why has our side lost everytime the subject of gay marriage comes up for a vote? If we won a few and lost a few, I could agree but when we have lost each and every time, then we have to start wondering what are we doing wrong.

I think that one way we can advance the cause of gay marriage is by doing a few things: first, redefining what victory means; second, listening to our opponents, and three divorcing gay marriage from the civil rights movement.

First off is redefining victory. What this really boils down to is lowered expectations. It means pushing for marriage rights without using the word marriage. I know that many will say that not pushing for full marriage equality is rendering gay people to second class citizens and I would agree. But I would respond by showing those losses again. Thirty-one losses. Do we want half-a-loaf or none? The thing is, most European countries went through a period of calling same sex marriage for gays something else before marriage was made legal. The UK currently has marriage rights, but they don't call it a marriage at this point. Like Europe, I think most Americans are willing to give gay couples some marriage rights but at this point can't rationally wrap their minds around concepts like same sex marriage. I'm not saying that we should never call gay marriage a marriage or stop pushing for full marriage rights. But sometimes we have to find ways to make change happen incrementally, rather than betting the farm and losing it in the process. My own suggestion is that states like Maine and California should be pushing for civil unions and domestic partnerships first, and then move towards full marriage rights later down the road. Push for something that is marriage, but just don't call it marriage. It's just too emotionally charged.

Second, we need to listen to those that voted against same sex marriage. Instead of automatically branding these people as bigots, we need to understand why they voted against these measures. I really doubt that the good people are of Maine are all homophobes. But there has to be a reason they voted no. And let's stop whining about the Catholic Church or the Mormons or the Masons, or what-have-you. We need to find out what is keeping them from supporting same sex marriage rights and then tailor future campaigns in light of what these people say.

Finally, gay people need to stop linking their movement with the civil rights movement. I'm sorry, but one size of oppression doesn't fit all. I used to think that these two movements were alike, but while their are some similarities, there are also a ton of differences. As someone who is both African American and gay, I can say there are big differences. Let's start with marriage. Yes, many states in the South prohibited interracial marriage until the Supreme Court struck it down in 1967. Gay rights supporters have tried to link interracial marriage to same sex marriage, but the similarities are, pardon the pun, skin deep. An interracial couple that wanted to get married in say 1959 had no option to get married. At all. Also, you have to add the whole stigma of the races mixing, especially when it was a black man with a white woman. If the two were seen together in an intimate setting, then you could be sure the black man might end up in a noose a few hours later.

If two gay people are denied marriage, we have options. They aren't perfect or desired, but they are options. Also, there is less stigma attached to same-sex relationships as there are to interracial ones circa 1959. It's not great for gay couples, but it's not as dangerous either.

The other problem is that many gay marriage activists tend to copy the history of the civil rights movement using the courts to solve racial segregation. But again, the similarities are cursory. For African Americans, the courts had to be used be other venues of redress were not available. State legislatures in the South were filled with segregationists, and Southern Democrats made sure that civil rights legislation would come in its own sweet time on Capitol Hill. The courts were the last venue for justice.

For gay rights proponents, we too often want to head to the courts first, even though the passage through state legislatures is not as treacherous as it was for African Americans. African Americans used the courts in the 40s, 50s and 60s because we had no other choice. Gay Americans do have some choices.

Do I want to see gay marriage become a reality? Yes. But I'm learning that we need to learn to pick our battles and settle for partial victories on the way to ending the war. I'm also learning that not everyone who is queasy about gay marriage is a bigot ready to bash me. I'm learning that if we want to get to a point where same sex couples can have equal marriage rights, we are going to have to think and strategize and find the best steps to get to that point even if it means gradual change.

Marriage is a worthy goal. Let's think about how best to get there.

Try Walking in My Shoes

A friend from high school who has a son with autism shared this video on what's it like for someone that's autistic to take a walk down the street.  After watching the video, I can say it's a pretty good simulation of what I and others live with all the time. 

Jesus is a Cat Person

One of the more common understandings of Christianity that I've found in Mainline churches is that God is all about love. 

I struggle with that belief.  I know that God is a loving God, and as expressed in the life, death and resurrection of Christ, we get to see a God that really did love those that one might think were unloveable.  As a gay man, I understand how faith has been used to kick people out of church and how important it is to see a God that cares for us no matter who we are.

It's become fixed in our culture that God all about love and nothing else.  We focus on the stories that talks about God loving sinners, like the parable of the Prodigal Son.  We want God to be the Big Daddy that loves us no matter what we do.

But there's something about that which bothers me.  It's not that none of this is true- it is.  But I always feel that what we are getting in Mainline and probably other parts of Christianity in America is only part of a picture of God, a part that we agree with.  I feel that we tend to ignore or explain away the other half that is not so nice to see.  We are as good with cherry-picking Scripture as our more conservative sisters and brothers are.

Alan Bevere has a great post up today that explains how people tend to pull Jesus out of the context that's found in the Bible and reimagine him to suit our own purposes.  Here's a sample:

Now before I get all the comments and emails reminding me of how much Jesus and the New Testament writers mention love, let me respond by saying that I know such is the case. I am not exactly ignorant when it comes to Scripture. The problem is that the modern tendency to dehistoricize and detheologize Jesus and his ministry into principles and concepts robs us of the context which makes the biblical notion of love intelligible. Without it we lose what it truly means for Jesus to tell his followers to love one another. The great sacrifice of cross and the wonderful victory of resurrection by which Christian love is understood is replaced by the modern romanticism of love as primarily a feeling, as the justification for behavior without consequences, and living a life devoid of transformation. We move from Jesus' statement that no greater love can be displayed in laying down one's life to it doesn't matter how we behave because God loves us no matter what.

It doesn't take a profound thinker to know that the primary motivation for this dehistorizing and detheologizing of Jesus is to domesticate his life and work into something more palatable to modern sensibilities. The Jesus who comes to us from the pages of the New Testament demands too much from us. Moreover, in our modern cosmological reductionist assumptions, we simply cannot have a Jesus running around doing miraculous things. So in Bishop Spong and John Crossan fashion we first demythologize Jesus and then we remythologize him after our own image and our own expectations. Jesus now becomes safe to follow. Yes, Jesus is still presented as a radical, but he is a domesticated revolutionary. He is one who looks like a hippie from the 1960s or a political activist whose methods of power and coercion look no different from the politics of the nations.

But a domesticated revolutionary will not bring about serious change; he will just reinforce the agendas of those who are frankly doing nothing more than using Jesus as a prop to get what they want. Jesus was crucified because he presented a true alternative to the ways of the world that could not and will not be displayed in the politics of the current age. Jesus was not killed for promoting right-wing violence on behalf of the state, and he was not crucified for advocating a progressive social agenda. Jesus was crucified because he presented a serious threat to the status quo in all forms; and it will not do just to present his life and ministry as supporting any modern political and social agenda. And those Christians who attempt to do so are domesticating Jesus into doing their bidding.

We all want a Jesus that is more to our own liking.  That was what Andrew Sullivan was getting at in his essay last week.  So, we do just what Thomas Jefferson did, just without the scissors; taking out bits and pieces that don't fit our own agenda and come up with a Jesus we can stomach.

But I don't think we are supposed to be comfortable with Jesus.  I think Jesus is supposed to make us uncomfortable in how he lived his life and in what he did.  I think more and more we have to live with this Jesus that we don't want to hang out with and be open to how we will change in meeting with Jesus and not try to make Jesus fit our own life.

I've said before that there is a reason why C.S. Lewis portrayed Aslan, his God-figure in the Chronicles of Narnia, as a Lion- a wild creature that can't be easily tamed.

We all want Jesus to be like a dog, someone that's lovable and faithful to us and is always there when we need them.  They expect nothing more than love from us. 

But Jesus is more like a cat; pushy, demanding, intrusive and is sometimes just a jerk.  But there are also times when Jesus can cuddle up to us and just be present at the end of nice day. 

Mr. Beaver in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, says this when asked about Aslan the Lion: he is good, but he isn't safe. 

Jesus is a cat; and cats are never safe. 

Doubt, Fear and Church Planting

On this upcoming Second Sunday of Easter, I wanted to share this sermon I preached back in 2006.  It dealt a bit with some of the struggles of church planting and relating that to the fear of the disciples in the locked room.  Here's a snippet:

You know, I’ve learned something about starting a church: it’s damn hard.

Okay, you probably didn't expect a pastor to use the word “damn” in a sermon, but the fact of the matter is, planting a church is hard. It’s hard for a lot of reasons, but mainly because those involved in planning the church have such grand visions. I had hoped tons of people would show up and that our denominational bodies would give us tons of money to help us get started. In a way, I’m like the person Gordon Atkinson is talking about: I wanted to create this really cool church with a swingin’ pastor that would just be kick-ass.

What happened? Rev. Sanders got introduced to little thing called reality. Lot’s of people haven’t shown up. Some have stayed for a while and then moved on. Others made tons of excuses. As for the money, the denomination isn’t in the position to give us loads of money, though the money we have received has been helpful. To top things off, I worry about my colleague and fellow co-pastor who is trying to look for work and keep his financial ship from sinking. I can remember preparing wondering worship services with mind-blowing sermons and only two people show up. And there are times when I feel that no one cares about Community of Grace and no one would miss us.

Maybe that's why today's gospel text is so important for me, and someone must have thought it was an important word for the Church to hear, because it's the only text that appears during all three years of the revised common lectionary. As the story opens, ten of the disciples are in a locked room in Jerusalem. They were scared. The religious leaders and the Romans had succeeded in killing Jesus and they were probably fearful that they were next.

Read the whole thing.

Autism and Grace

Rod Dreher, who has a son who is also autistic, wrote a post called the "Gift of Autism," and he said he wrote that title with some trepidation.

As someone who is autistic, I can understand that.  I know the common thing among those of us who are autistic is to talk about how wonderful being autistic can be and how we are just different and all.  I get that and understand it to a point.

That said, autism can also be a pain in the ass.

It's not easy being around someone who is autistic.  It's not easy for the person, for their loved ones or their co-workers.  It can be a chore.

For me, this means that I make a lot more mistakes in my daily life than those that aren't autistic.  And I have to spend a lot more time trying to rectify those mistakes.  The worse thing about it?  Most of the time I don't know that I'm pissing people off by not doing something or not asking something.  I come off as an uncaring ass even when I don't mean to be.

But being autistic has made me more aware of the need for grace, the need to learn to love others even as they make mistakes.  I'm not always good at being patient, though reminding myself how I can be makes me remember that I need a lot of grace from others and so do those others.

Being a person with autism means you are going to make mistakes.  There is no way around that.  I can't pretend I have my crap together because I don't.  It's all out there.  I can't hide.

As humans, we pretend that we do have it all together.  Grace is supposed to remind us that we aren't all that and a bag of chips.  But we find ways of hiding, of telling ourselves how great we are and basically telling ourselves and each other we don't need God. 

And yet, God loves us. God gives us a second chance.  Just like so many friends, employers and loved ones give me a second chance.  It's a chance to try again, to know that you are loved for who you are, but also loved with a love that makes you want to get right and be better, not so that you can be loved, but because you are loved.

So, yeah, autism can be a gift- not in the sense that it's wonderful, but in the sense of letting me know that I am human after all.

And I am still loved by God.

The Problems With Following Jesus

I finally finished reading Andrew Sullivan's Holy Week essay on Christianity in Crisis.  There's a lot of think about in this article, so I have a list of what questions came to mind as a read this.

• We really can't know Jesus without the church.  Sullivan seems to think there is the pure Jesus out there that is not corrupted by politics. But as Joel Miller notes, Jesus never wrote anything, unlike say, Mohammed did.  The whole life of Jesus has been mediated others.  There can't be a pure Jesus not diluted by the church because everything we know about Jesus is through other people, those who were close to him and those who learned about him decades after he walked the earth. Here's what Miller writes:

It's a trendy thing to say, but how do we know what Jesus asks of us? Unlike Muhammad or L. Ron Hubbard, Jesus didn't scratch out a word of Scripture. We only know what Jesus said because his followers wrote things down. These followers and their community -- that is to say, the church -- then curated that message. That means we have to understand Jesus' words in a matrix that includes the thoughts and writings of the early church: its bishops, priests, poets, monks, theologians, and artists. Divorcing Jesus from the church is conceptually impossible.

 It is trendy to say we can get to Jesus without the messiness of the church, but you just can't understand who Jesus is without the writings and traditions of the church. That leads me to the next point:
 

• The problem with church is that it's filled with humans.  I know Sullivan is upset at how his own Catholic Church failed to protect children from abusive priests.  I get that.  When people abuse their power or try to bar people from coming  to God's table, it reflects badly on the church.  Sadly, the church is filled with people who did not stand for justice and righteousness, but either stood aside or actively participated in evil.  The church is filled with weak willed, obstinate people.  But for some odd reason, Jesus entrusted his mission to a group of people who more often that not did not understand Jesus and sometimes got it terribly wrong.  The church is made up of fallible beings, and that's kinda how Jesus intended it to be.  I'm not saying we should take a pass on things that go wrong in church.  What I am saying is that this thing called Christianity is made up of folks who sometimes fuck up.  An institution made up of humans is going to make mistakes, BIG mistakes.  But somehow, God still works through this fallible gathering and people are able to feed the poor, free the slaves and stand for righteousness.  
• Jesus gets me.  Now, I tend to agree more with Sullivan on stuff than disagree with him, but I find it odd that Jesus seems to agree with everything that he happens to like or dislike.  I don't know if we do this on purpose or not, but more often than note we tend to fashion a Jesus that is basically us, but way cooler.  Maybe it's just me, but the Jesus I read in Scripture was one that was hard to follow.  He was always asking us to do stuff (like giving up everything we own, dissing our families) that we don't always have the balls to do.  Why do we make Jesus a cheerleader for our own politics?  Why can't we allow the Jesus we encounter to bother us and shake us up instead of domesticating him to our ideology?
• We can't follow Jesus.  Yes, Jesus does ask us to follow him.  And I believe we have to.  But we shouldn't trick ourselves into thinking its easy or that we won't be driven off the past by our own wants and passions.  The reason we talk about the cross and the empty tomb this week is because we are reminded that we can't follow Jesus on our own.  We follow Jesus only through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.  Let's look at Sullivan's (or Thomas Jefferson's) list that describes Jesus:

 What were those doctrines? Not the supernatural claims that, fused with politics and power, gave successive generations wars, inquisitions, pogroms, reformations, and counterreformations. Jesus’ doctrines were the practical commandments, the truly radical ideas that immediately leap out in the simple stories he told and which he exemplified in everything he did. Not simply love one another, but love your enemy and forgive those who harm you; give up all material wealth; love the ineffable Being behind all things, and know that this Being is actually your truest Father, in whose image you were made. Above all: give up power over others, because power, if it is to be effective, ultimately requires the threat of violence, and violence is incompatible with the total acceptance and love of all other human beings that is at the sacred heart of Jesus’ teaching. That’s why, in his final apolitical act, Jesus never defended his innocence at trial, never resisted his crucifixion, and even turned to those nailing his hands to the wood on the cross and forgave them, and loved them.

Hmmm...love your enemy? Yeah, that's a piece of cake. Give up material wealth? Listen, I have issues giving up my iPad and I doubt Sullivan is going to go all Mother Teresa on us. Love God? Maybe. Give up power over others? Yeah, got that. Maybe I'm weak, but I think I could fail each and every item on this list. I can't do it. Sullivan can't do it. No one can. That's why we need grace. This is not to say we shouldn't try. But following Jesus is hard. It. Is. Not. Practical. (When the hell was loving our enemy ever practical?)

There's a lot more I can talk about concerning this and maybe I will say more later.  But that's what's on my mind re: Sullivan.