Random Musings on Anti-Gay Bullying and Suicide

I might get in trouble for some of these words, but here goes:

• I'm a little bit confused about how we look at today's youth.  On the one hand, we are told that young kids are far more tolerant of gays than older groups.  On the other hand, we see a lot of young gay teens committing suicide.  So what does that mean?


• I am reminded that being a teenager sucks.  As adults, our memories start to get cloudy and we start to remove all the bad parts of being a teen.  But the fact is, it still sucks.  It sucked back in the 1980s and it still does.


• Where are the gay adults?  Yes, I know there is a lot being done by Dan Savage's "It Gets Better" project, but besides expressing our anger on blogs, why aren't we volunteering at some center for gay youth?  They do exist in many big cities.  Yes, schools should do more, but what are gay men and lesbians doing?


• Why aren't we teaching kids how they can stand up to the bullies and remind themselves that they are beautiful and worth it?


• While I'm not opposed to anti-bullying laws, I don't think they will stop kids from being teased or from being bullied.  It's not simply because schools are doing bad job, but because kids can be cruel and they will find ways to hurt each other.


• I think churches need to do a better job of teaching their youth not to make fun of each other and to do what Jesus did: love the outcasts.


• Suicide was an issue as a teen growing up in the 1980s.  It wasn't specifically about being gay, though that was probably one of many reasons.

Discuss.

For Gay Youth...

Since there has been a lot of talk about a lot of gay teens committing suicide, I wanted to share something that the church I am at is doing starting October 8.

We are starting a program geared towards gay teens where they can come together in a safe space and maybe learn that God loves them just as they are.

You can find out more by reading this post at the church website.

It Gets Better

It's never easy being a teen, and it's harder if you are gay or dealing with autism.  In junior high and in high school, I was dealing with both.  At the time, I didn't know I had Aspergers and was working hard to deny being gay.

I remember being picked on and told I was gay and the teasing was bad in my junior high years.  I can remeber especially when I was maybe 14 or 15 being picked on in church. There was one particular guy that would always call me gay or insinuate in various ways that I was different.

Long story short, I didn't fit in and while there was a lot of good things that happened to me back then, I also felt very lonely and very afraid at times. 

Back in the summer, our Christian Educator, Deb told us about what was happening in the Anoka-Hennepin district, a suburban school district north of Minneapolis.  A number of teens have committed suicide after being bullied and most if not all of those kids were gay.  After hearing some of the issues from a friend and teacher in the district, Deb was spurred to action and our church helped put together a fundraiser for the teacher, Jefferson who is walking in the American Foundations for Suicide Prevention's annual walk this Saturday.  Deb even went farther to create a program for gay youth where they can come and talk and have  safe space at a choatic time in their lives.

Columnist Dan Savage was spurred to action because of teen suicides in his area and put together a project called, "It Gets Better."  In the video below, he and his partner help young gay teens know that life does get better after high school.  I was touched by Dan's story of seeing Paris at dawn with his five-year-old sun.  My partner Daniel and I went to Paris in 2008 for our honeymoon.  I had been to Paris 10 year earlier, by myself, but I will forever remember this trip because I was with my love.  I remember eating pastries with Daniel from bakery right near Notre Dame.  What a wonderful memories.



The fact is, it does get better.  Hey, I got to be a pastor!  And I got to travel to Buenos Aires!  My parents have come to accept me as being gay and they love Daniel as the white-Norwegian son-in-law they never had.

I should add that kids with autism should also know that it will get better.  You will find people who accept you for who you are and will love you.  People will come to love and accept you, even with your quirks.

I guess the thing I want to say is that things can get better.  If you are a young gay teen or a kid with autism that is having a hard time at school and church...know that it does get better.  The bullies will only last a time.  And know that there are caring communities out there.  Seek them out.  You will find out that life really is worth it if you just stick around.

The Church, Autism and a place of Welcome

I wrote this post originally back in July of this year.  I've added a few things and expanded upon it.

When I was a kid , I spent several years on the junior usher board at church. Of course, back in the 70s, neither I nor my parents knew I was autistic, but they knew things were a bit off with me.

Anyway, being an usher in the African American church is an artform. You wear certain uniforms and there were certain hand signals that you would use to indicate a certain need. When the time came for prayer, you were supposed to cross your arms over your chest and bow your head. I can remember the feeling of cocooning myself into this little ball and it felt good. Once I was in that position, I would start twisting or rocking my torso, to the left and then to right. Back and forth, back and forth. It felt good to me, but it must have looked damn weird to the people in the pews. I can distinctly remember one day being in my happy place and rocking back and forth until a pair of hands touched my shoulders indicating that it was time to stop.

Looking back 30 years later, that was a vivid example of kid with autism in the church. I don't know if what the person did was correct or not, but I do wonder if people were disturbed at what I was doing.

Now that I am a pastor and someone with autism, I have started to wonder how those with autism are treated in the church. In talking with a good friend who has two children on the spectrum, I have found out that churches have a long way to go in welcoming people and families where one or more persons are on the spectrum.

I stumbled upon this blog post by a special-ed teacher in Georgia, who shares the struggles he and his wife have faced when it comes to the church accomodating his son who is autistic:

One would think that the safest place in the world for children with disabilities would be in houses of worship, among people dedicated to God, love, mercy, grace, compassion, faith, and forgiveness. But this is not true at all. The worship service itself, with constant demands for compliance and conformity, is hostile for those who are inherently different from everyone else. Anyone who is unable to conform to the structures of the service is not welcome and asked to leave. The larger the church, the more true this will be.

I may editorialize more on my feelings toward church and those with disabilities later, but I want to talk a bit about how churches attempt to deal with this unique and growing population. In this particular church spoken about above, they attempted to recruit helpers in order to help Thomas participate in the same activities as his peers. I think the intent of the program was excellent, and it started out well enough. But without diligence by a committed coordinator, it becomes just another chore to dread like ushering, parking lot duty, being a greeter or assorted other mundane tasks and ministries in the church. Yes, we are the boy’s parents and he is our responsibility which we take seriously. But no one was caring much about our own spiritual growth or struggles. Staying home is a more Holy, peaceful and rejuvenating experience for many families that have children with disabilities. Church is often a hostile, hellish experience where families are segregated or ostracized. I don’t think Jesus would approve.

Ouch.

The thing is, a lot of this rings true. There are many churches where the worship service is meant to be a time of silence and decorum. God help you if a kid gets cranky. But it's one thing if grown people are talking out of turn; it's another if a kid with autism is having a meltdown.

Churches have to be more aware and willing to find ways to welcome special needs persons. Of course, being a pastor I also know that isn't so easy to do, especially when it comes autism.  Sometimes a person with autism could be very disruptive in a worship service and dealing with a person with autism can be difficult. There isn't a one-size-fits-all solution. That said, no one ever said being church was easy.

When it comes to this family, I wonder what would have happened had the pastor worked with family and other leaders to make church a more welcome place, not only for the kid, but for the parents. It is interesting that in all of this, it seems that the Senior Pastor was absent.

Raising a kid with autism can be challenging for parents. They love their kids and will do what it takes to make sure they are well-cared for. But it can also be draining for them as well and it seems like in this case, no one seemed to care about the spiritual and emotional health of Thomas' parents.
Maybe the problem here is that church is so formal. We treat it like we are watching the symphony. We want to hear the music and the choir, but we don't want to hear babies crying; that just ruins everything.

I'm not saying that church needs to be a rock concert, but what it we allowed a bit more informality?

Lesile Phillips, a blogger from Houston is more pointed in how churches treat persons with autism and other behavior disorders:

What I find fascinating (and by that I mean infuriating) is that often the people who claim to be most understanding, most inclusive and most loving are often actually the most judgmental, UN-welcoming people out there. Sure, many faith communities have taken the trouble to build ramps or make accommodations for people with physical disabilities. Sorry to say folks, but that's the easy stuff. When are we going to get to the hard stuff?

The hard stuff is making successful inclusion happen for people whose disabilities have behavioral manifestations, like autism, bipolar disorder, Tourette Syndrome. Many people can understand that children with autism may have behavior challenges, but they seem to think that because a place of worship should be quiet and reverent that a child can somehow leave their disability "at the door". If walking into a place of worship cured my son's autism, I'd live in one. It doesn't work that way. His disability follows him right inside the door, past ornate statues, alongside people in fancy-colored robes, among people praying and singing - you name it, it's there.

I was raised as a Christian. Christians are fond of asking "What would Jesus do?" (In fact, they are so fond of asking it, they sometimes sport bracelets that simply say "WWJD?") Would he turn my son away? What about your faith, whatever it may be? Is it consistent with your beliefs that people with challenges and their families, who likely need supportive fellowship more than anyone on the planet, should be excluded from worship?

 


I don't know what I can do to make church more welcoming to my fellow aspies, but I will try. I want church to be a place where freaks are welcomed.

Retreads: The Aspie Pastor and Evangelism

The following is a post I wrote back in February about evangelism and autism on my old blog.  I thought I'd re-post it here.

[caption id="attachment_34" align="alignleft" width="210" caption="One of my cats, Morris, circa 2002."][/caption]

One of the things I have learned since my diagnosis is that I really have a hard time connecting with people.  I don't mean to say that I'm friendless, but it's a lot harder for me to meet people than it is for others.

Our congregation is trying to encourage people to start sharing their faith in non-coercive ways.  I think it's a great idea and I've seen how the Senior Pastor has been able to talk and share his life with others.

But I sit somewhat amazed at how he does it.  I mean, I've tried to invite people to church events, but I feel at times like Data from Star Trek: I might understand the mechanics of something, but not it's essence.

My aspie way of evangelism is sending someone a Facebook event invite.  Something tells me that while that's one way of inviting people to church, it is not the most effective way.

The fact of the matter is, I don't know how to invite someone to church because I am lost in inviting people, period.  I think that's why the church start that I was a part of failed so badly: I had no idea how to build those relationships that one needs.  Oh, I would ask people, but I don't think it had that same "magic" that it has when it comes from someone that isn't autistic.

It's funny- I feel God has called me to be at this place, to help this church grow spiritually and be able to share their faith lives with friends and neighbors and yet I have a big issue in how to actually share my life, something that I have a hard time doing. God really does work in mysterious ways.

I feel at times like a cat trying to make my way in a dog world.  Dogs are social animals and love to be with other dogs ( I guess that's what the butt-sniffing is all about).  But cats tend to be solitary and don't understand what's up with those crazy dogs.

I wish there was a cat way to be social, a feline way of evangelism.

Let's see what God has to say.

"Write the Future"

How much impact can an struggling church in the urban core of Minneapolis have on the world?

Well, a lot if it knows that church is verb as much as it is a noun.

A recent post on the blog Church Marketing Sucks referenced a marketing campaign by Nike that was shown during the 2010 World Cup in South Africa.  Called "Write the Future," the ad features several well-known soccer players making moves that could either win or lose the game and the ripples those actions make around the world.

The writer of the blog likens this to the church.  A gathering of believers can have a major impact in our world today, but too often we call people to "come and stay" instead of "go and do."

First Christian Church is a group of people who come together to worship God and care for each other.  First Christian is a noun.  But First Christian is also a verb, it is a gathering of followers of Jesus Christ, who go into the world to care for the poor and the outcast.

Examples abound of those writing the future and "doing church."  I am reminded of  the Handcrafters as they make prayer shawls.  I think of those who donated to the Backpack Sunday drive First Christian did with Central Lutheran, helping countless children get school supplies.  I think of the Young Adults who took a Saturday evening to make sandwhiches for the Dignity Center, a ministry of Hennepin Avenue Methodist to help homeless folks have something in the bellies for the day.

A church like First Christian might not be many in number, but it can "write the future."  We can live out faith as followers of Jesus Christ and make a difference in the lives of untold numbers of people, both here in Minneapolis and around the world.

Let's continue writing the future, First Christian.  Go and do church.

The End of the Full-Time Pastor?

When I started my current position at First Christian two years ago, I came on part-time....very part time.  The church couldn't afford a full-time Associate Pastor and frankly, I didn't want to give up my day job.  So, since that time I've worked part-time at First and full time at my job with the Presbytery.

I have to say when people find out that I'm a part time pastor, they look at me funny.  Some wonder how I do it (I sometimes wonder myself).  I've learned to try to not overdo it and try to manage time.  I'm not always good at that, but I do try.

Some people tend think that my ministry is not very real, since I'm not full time.  That always bugs me since I tend to do almost everything that a full-time pastor does- just not full time.

The funny thing is, full-time ministry is changing.  I've been around mainline churches enough to see that many of them don't have the finances to fund a full time pastor like they used to.  Congregations aren't as big as they used to be and the people in the pews don't give like they used to.

Lutheran pastor Amy Thompson Simvili is watching how things are changing and sending a warning to young clergy to not expect that they will serving as a full-time pastor.

Young clergy like myself entered the ministry expecting to spend our working lives in some church capacity, never intending to amass a fortune, but planning to earn enough to pay the rent, put children through college, and save a little. That is, we hoped eventually to earn more than our denominations’ minimum-salary – which is enough to get started but little more. Given the messages I heard as a young adult discerning a call, never did I think this model was untenable.  “The church needs pastors,” I was told.  “Soon there will be a shortage.”

It looks as if that was only partly true.  It is true that pastors are needed in the mainline’s many small congregations, and that won’t change. But the number of full-time pastors (i.e. pastors earning enough to pay the rent and support a family) is dwindling.  Many judicatories around the mainline churches are looking for more part-time than full-time clergy. In my own financially-healthy synod, the number of part-time positions is growing faster than we would like. A lot faster. Some say that this will change when the economy rebounds. Maybe it will for a few.  But in most congregations, the issue is not money. It’s numbers.  Many congregations have become so small that any future economic growth will have no effect on their ability to pay a full-time pastor.

So what's the answer? Pure honesty:

I think the simple answer is this: tell the truth. The model for ministry which we have long assumed is no longer the model of the future. In the same way that older clergy are facing the reality of decimated pensions and the prospect of working more years than they expected, so too are younger clergy facing a different future. In 10-20 years, some will still have full-time calls; many will not. So, for those of us already in the ministry, we will need to acquire a second set of skills and discern whether we can fulfill our calling through bi-vocational ministry. For those who are entering the ministry, they need to be told at the outset about the reality into which they enter. They, too, will probably have to acquire a second set of skills and to add to their discernment the question of whether or not God is calling them to bi-vocational ministry.

Most of all, the church and its mostly older leadership has to talk about this economic reality right now. They must do this without sounding unnecessary alarm bells but with realism about the future. They must also address the future of clergy education. They could even ask some younger people to help. I think we would be willing.

The future is not necessarily dire, but it will look different.

For me, I was lucky to find a job where I could use my the journalism skills I learned in college. The thing is, in the future, pastors might have to go back to what the apostle Paul did: having a ready skill to help pay the bills.

Of course, none of this is news to church musicians or those from the African American church tradition. As my partner Daniel, who is a church musician, can tell you, there are few full-time positions out there. Many musicians who have a passion for music have to work another job to make ends meet. It might not be perfect, but it allows them to fulfill their calling. I remember as a kid, that many a Black Baptist church was headed by a pastor who was a pastor on Sundays and worked in the auto plants during the week.

So, to those who are thinking about ministry I offer two pieces of advice. First, don't be a religion major in college. Find another skill that will be useful. Or maybe even learn a trade and become a plumber or carpenter (I think there was a nice, young Jewish boy that tried that once). Second, really think about why you want to go into ministry. If you can be open to working two jobs, then you might be called to be a pastor. If not, you might want to do some more discernment.

At the end of the day, the church of the 1950s is dissapearing. But while we don't know what's coming down the pike, at least we know that God is with us.

Thanks be to God.

h/t: Michael Kruse

If you are wondering what's up with the deerhead, read this post from 2006 where I talk about bivocational ministry while I was leading a new church start.

Hyperballad

I've always been a Bjork fan and one of my favorites has been the song, Hyperballad, which came out in 1995-96.  I remember hearing it when I first moved to Minnesota in the winter of '96 and it seemed like a song of hope in a kinda lonely period in my life.

Why Church Planting Matters

Jim, left and my partner, Daniel, right.

As First Christian plans its future, a constant among the plans is to leave some money aside for to plant new churches. Both the Senior Pastor and I have made this a priority in what ever decisions are made.

That has been met with some resistance. One person wondered why we weren't spending some of the money on mission. Others have thought the same thing. (It's funny that people all of the sudden care about mission when it comes to using money for church planting.) I'm always a bit angry at the resistance to planting churches. As someone whose position involves mission, I get wanting to support mission, but church planting is part of that mission.

Of course, I have a strong belief in planting new churches, because I planted one. Yes, it failed but it also made a difference in the life of one man, my dear friend Jim.

Jim came from a Catholic and Anglican background, but because he was gay, he never felt welcomed in those churches. When Community of Grace came online, he was able to reconnect with God in a way that continues today.

I don't know if Jim would have come back to the church if it was an existing church. But because there was a new church that welcomed him regardless of his sexuality, he could come on in and meet Jesus.

I know that at First part of the resistance is that many of churches planted by the congregation have since closed. But just because a congregation is no longer in existence that doesn't mean that planting it was in vain. Countless people were able to learn the stories of old, feast at the table, make a baptismal covenant and meet Christ. That matters.

I wonder at times if part of the resistance to new planting new churches comes from what has happened to mainline Protestant churches over the last 50 years. Walter Russell Mead writes that as the fundamentalists/evangelicals split from the modernists in the early 20th century, it was the modernists that ended up much poorer:

In a sense, the mainline churches today suffer because they never took stock of the costs of modernism in quite the same way that evangelicals came to terms with some of the shortcomings and one-sided characteristics of the fundamentalist movement. Beginning really with Billy Graham’s pilgrimage, for two generations evangelicals have been working to free themselves of cultural detritus (culturally determined views on race and on the place of women in society, for example) while holding on to the vital principles of the fundamentalist core — doctrines like original sin, the atonement, and a strong belief that God, however mysteriously, acts in history.

The heirs of the modernists, I fear, have not really had this ‘second stage’ movement. If anything, the most noticeable trend in many mainline denominations has been to go farther down the road of the modernists. Reinhold Niebuhr, a figure who in many ways came closer than any other to the kind of review and renewal that mainline Protestantism needs, would be politically and theologically isolated in the mainline churches today. His stance suggested a rigorous and critical approach to the limits of liberal theology, but that side of his legacy has been largely ignored.

Niebuhr in a sense has had no heirs. His effort to synthesize the core vision of historic Protestantism with a contemporary sensibility did not capture the imagination of subsequent generations of mainline church leaders. The mainline churches seemed to feel that little of value was really lost when the fundamentalists left. The modernists won the fight with the fundamentalists, after all. They ended up with the big buildings, the prestigious and academically well respected theological schools, the patronage of the social elite, the bully pulpits that commanded attention and respect, the control of the denominational machinery. Why look for anything more?

In truth, the split impoverished the mainline churches as much as it did the fundamentalists. Modernity in religion became progressively unglued from the foundations of Protestant faith; the mainline churches lacked the kind of compelling, burning message of faith that would have kept new generations of educated, thoughtful believers engaged in the church. For too many mainline congregations, faith faded into a habit, and the habit faded away.

While many people in the mainline churches continue to live rich and intense spiritual lives, the mainline churches as a group seem to have lost both the urge and the ability to communicate a message of urgency about the need to people to, as the old spirituals put it, “get right with God.” They have lost the ability to make the Christian life and a Christian commitment the vital center of community and family life — even for many of their own members.

Mainline churches have always been good when it comes to social justice, but when it comes to what drives us, the passion of Christian committment, well, not so much. I think part of the reason there seems to be little urgency when it came to church planting is because it seems so old fashioned. We mainliners don't want to look like those fundamentalists, trying to shove their faith down people's throats.

And of course, please have done that. But our approach hasn't been a whole lot better. At times it seems like we have no passion, that we are going through the motions.

This isn't what I'm used to. I grew up in the African American church and I can tell you that they had a lot of passion. And yet, that bothers white mainline Protestants. Yes, the will try to enjoy a black church service, but the urgency, the passion is just not there.

I came accross this post a few weeks ago by Presbyterian pastor John Vest explaining his experience at Presbyterian Youth Triennium:

For the most part, I really enjoyed Triennium. I found a lot of it very inspiring and energizing. I enjoyed meeting and reconnecting with youth ministry friends. It was a great opportunity for me to feel the pulse of Presbyterian youth ministry around the country. Yet, some of it just didn’t connect for me. Though I approached this experience with an open heart and an open mind, I have to say that some of it was just not my cup of tea—and it wasn’t always a great fit for the youth I brought from Chicago.

Part of this is a cultural thing that I think is more regional than anything else. By and large, Chicago Presbyterians are not accustomed to this kind of flashy, semi-evangelical youth conference. I think this is why we have (in my opinion) a hard time putting on Presbytery youth conferences back home: we use this same model but it doesn’t connect with the youth group experiences of most of our churches.

But part of it is also a theological difference, or at least a difference of emphasis—which is probably connected to these regional cultural differences as well. Our kids have not had a lot of exposure to youth that wear Christian t-shirts, listen to Christian music, and “talk the talk” of (semi-)evangelical youth culture. They were a little weirded out by all the screaming and shouting about Jesus. In general, the constant emphasis on Jesus in worship, music, and small groups was more than they are used to.

As a recovering Southern Baptist who used to very much inhabit this culture and who left it for many good reasons, it was all a little more than I was interested in as well. I was most troubled by the music during daily worship. The rock band was excellent. And overall, worship was very creative and was quite inclusive and in some (sometimes subtle) ways progressive. But the music and the music leaders used pretty much exclusively male language to talk about God. Most of the songs were more christocentric than theocentric, and usually really christocentric. There was a whole lot of what I began thinking of as “Jesus, bloody Jesus”: a high christology that was almost exclusively informed by a theology of bloody, sacrificial atonement. This kind of christology was so thick that when Tony Campolo preached about a radical, earthy Jesus (you know, the one we read about in the synoptic gospels) during our final worship service, it almost seemed to me like a different Jesus than the one we had been singing about all week. (You can guess which Jesus I found more compelling.)

All of this stirred within me thoughts I have been having for a while about what I think is an idolatrous attitude toward the worship of Jesus in most circles of the church today. I’ll write more about this later, but here is the tension I felt at Triennium: there seems to be a huge disconnect between the Jewish peasant that preached humility, servanthood, and a paradoxical embrace of power through weakness and 5000 youth in an auditorium using flashy rock music, t-shirts, and signs to worship and exalt a Christ that reigns in power and is somehow involved in every aspect of creation. Would Jesus point to himself in this way, or would he instead point us to God? This, of course, is a sticky question of christology, a question I fully intend to return to. But for now, I have to confess that this kind of Jesus worship just doesn’t seem to me like the kind of thing Jesus lived and died for. If Jesus wanted this kind of worship, he could have asked for it while he was with us.

Now, I get and appreciate the "earthy Jesus" he is talking about. I think it is incredibly important to understand the life of Jesus, not just his death.

But I also understand the "Jesus, bloody Jesus" as well. The life of Jesus tells us how we should live. But it is the death of Jesus that allows us to follow Jesus. Following the earthy, Jewish peasant is something we can do, kinda like I can choose to become a vegetarian. Both are good, but they aren't necessarily passionate. But there's a reason the crucifixion and death of Jesus is called "The Passion." There was emotion involved. It affected people, it changed them. It still does today.

In the African American church, we sing songs that talk a lot about blood, the blood of Jesus. It might seem goulish, but we realize that it was this blood that saved us, that saved us all to be servants to each other. I don't know, but maybe the experience of slavery made us less squeamish about blood and make Christ seem more urgent.

So, what does this little theological trip have to do with church planting? Well, if Jesus is just the earthy prophet, then I don't really see the need to plant churches. Hell, I don't even need a church. I can just give money to an agency and spend time at a soup kitchen. But if Jesus is the One who came and lived among us, cared for the poor, healed the sick, made the blind see and also died for us and rose up to defeat the powers of death, well that sounds a lot more exciting, doesn't it? Kinda like you want to be in church.

Church planting matters because Jesus matters. Jesus changes lives. He brought my friend Jim back to a church. Jesus matters. Let's plant churches.

Children of the Heavenly Father

Yesterday at church, we had a service of lamentation. Two years prior, on August 29, 2008, First Christian Church sold its building the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. The congregation, which had went from the owning a building that was completed in 1954, to now being tenants. The hope of the service was to help people grieve that loss and also be able to move forward as a church into a new future in a new location.

The sanctuary was done up with sackcloth and ashes. I was asked to do what I usually do when I'm not preaching, that is to give the invocation. I knew that this had to be something different than the usual invocation. As I was thinking about what to do, an idea struck me to read the words to a hymn. It's a hymn that I didn't grow up with, but I've become familiar with it because I dated two Lutheran men of Swedish heritage. I think I remember my friend and former boyfriend Erik talking about the song, and I know that my partner Daniel definitely knew the song. The song is "Children of the Heavenly Father." Daniel's family has had that hymn sung at weddings (including our own) and at funerals (including the death of his mother several years ago). It seemed to be song that one sang to remind people that God is with them all the time. The history of the song is that the writer Carolina Sandell-Berg was the daughter of a Lutheran minister. She saw her father fall off and boat and drown to his death. Out of the sadness of that tragedy came this song. It's a song of mourning, but also of assurance.

I was going to read the words, but something said these words needed to be sung. So, I did something I don't usually do: sing alone, in public. I don't think I have that good of a voice to be singing solo, but I did. I think in the time of sadness and apprehension of the future, it's good to be reminded that God is with us and we are there for each other.

This is what Garrison Keillor had to say about singing this song:

Garrison Keillor: “I once sang the bass line of Children of the Heavenly Father in a room with about three thousand Lutherans in it; and when we finished, we all had tears in our eyes, partly from the promise that God will not forsake us, partly from the proximity of all those lovely voices. By our joining in harmony, we somehow promise that we will not forsake each other.”

Amen.

You can read the lyrics by clicking on the link.

The Gift of Failure

[caption id="attachment_8" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="A pic of me from my Community of Grace days, circa 2006."][/caption]

It's been a few years since I ended the ministry of Community of Grace Christian Church.  For those not in the know, I helped launch a new church back in 2004.  It had a shaky start, and then pretty much went downhill from there.  Long story short, it was a failed church start.   By 2007, I was tired and frustrated.  I decided it was time to let this failing ministry die.

The resulting weeks and months after the closing were pretty had for me.  I felt anger and shame.  Most of all, I felt that I had failed.

As I look back over the last few years, I've started to see that maybe there was some good that came out of failure.  Knowing what not to do as a church, has really helped me in my current call.

In our society, we like to say that failure is not an option.  But the fact is, we do fail.  Sometimes we are not going to hit the mark.  Sometimes we will miss it by a country mile.  But the fact is, sometimes we will fail.

And when  we do fail, we then feel the shame of falling short.  But we try to cover up our shame and want to blame others.  We don't want people to see us hurt, to see our pain.  Church can be a cold place and if people see our hurt, it can be like blood in the water to some in the pews.

The funny thing is that Jesus knew failure as well.  Good Friday is the day that God failed.  Yes, I know this was the thing that gave us freedom, but it was also a crushing blow.  Here was Jesus trying to preach and heal and in the end, he gets crucified like common thief.  He was supposed to be the guy who would bring salvation and he couldn't even save himself.

In the end, Jesus understands when we fail.  God is right there with us.  I don't know if it gets rid of the shame, but it sure makes it damn easier.  And it makes those Easter moments all the more sweeter.

So, I'm thankful that I failed.

...though, I don't want to make a habit of it. :)

The Post Where I Say Hello

This is my first post on my new blog, A Pastor Named Questor.  For five years, I did my religious blogging over at Oscar the Pastor.  Then in 2008, I was diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome, a form of autism and started blogging about autism as well.  After a while, it seemed that Oscar had outlived its usefulness, so I decided to start a new blog that incorporated talking about faith, talking about being gay and African American and about being on the spectrum.

And the result is this new blog.

So, what's with the name and the sharp-dressed robot in the header?  Well both come from my love of science-fiction television and being autistic.  Questor was the name of an android that was the subject of a movie called the Questor Tapes.  It was developed by Gene Roddenberry, the same guy that created Star Trek.  The movie was supposed to be the start of a new series, but it never turned out that way.  Throughout the movie Questor is learning what it means to be human.  He has a friend that is trying to help him learn the ropes. Questor is also someone that observes what's going on in life.

In some way, I've identified with androids and robots.  I'm constantly having to learn how the rest of the world operates and it can leave me at times confused about things.  And like Questor, as well as Roddenberry's other android, Data I do a lot of observation on what is going on.  In many ways, I'm still trying to figure out how humans operate and how to make my way in the world.

Which makes being an Associate Pastor really fascinating.

So, sit back and enjoy!

Why Should the Devil Have All The Good Music?

Over at Scot McKnight's blog is a guest post about Contemporary Christian music. It's an interesting read, as are some of the responses. During my high school and college years in the 80s and early 90s, I listened to a lot of Christian music. As I got older, I started heading more towards secular music. These days, I will ocassionally stop over at iTunes to see what's happening in the Christian and Gospel catagory. To be honest, not much.

Now, this is not one of those post by a mainline Protestant that rips on anything that is evangelical. It's just that a lot of the stuff I try to listen to at times isn't that good. Now, this could be a sign of age. There is a lot of secular pop and rock that I don't care for, either. As a guy in his 40s, you always think the stuff of your youth is better.

For me, probably some of the best Christian music is from the late 80s, when artists like Amy Grant and Russ Taff were writing some great music that was deeply personal and confessional in nature. I still think Amy Grant's Lead Me On, which came out in 1988, was one of her best albums every. The late Rich Mullins also put out some great music during that era. Steve Taylor was able to tackle such issues as racism and abortion on his new wave albums. And Charlie Peacock? Just excellent, pure crafted pop that was lyrically raw and honest.

So what about today's stuff? I don't know. I listen to some of it, but it tends to all sound the same. Now, I can say that also about a lot of secular stuff as well. Maybe, it is age, but I kinda miss the old music that seemed to have some passion and originality. It all seems kinda manufactured.

I think this guy who commented said it best:

I grew up in a typical evangelical family. Secular music was not listened too, especially in my pre- and early teen years. So people like dc Talk ,Audio Adrenaline, and pretty much anything on a WoW album were my main music sources. As I got older the restraints on my music were lessened over time. Which was great because I love music. I love it so much that I decided to go to school for it.

I go to to a liberal arts university, even though my hopes are to be a music pastor. The stuff I have learned has completely put music in a new perspective for me. It has opened my eyes to how amazing music can be. However, now I am saddened by how crappy Christian music has become. There are so many possibilities for music and Christian music uses only .0002% of those possibilities. I really don't listen to any christian music besides worship music. So I decided to hop on iTunes and find some good new Christian music...I literally looked for almost 2 hours to find a band that didn't sound like a previous one. Their unfortunately was no musician that had an ounce of originality.

Every band that are christians, that in my opinion I deem as good, aren't signed to a christian label. I think Hillsong United stuff rocks out more and is more original than the crap that is being put out by Christian bands and they're technically a worship band. I don't want to be completely cynical because I believe there is hope. I want Christians to go deeper than what others are doing.

I believe God gave us art to express who we are as individuals and who were in Christ. Christian musicians rarely tap into that.

Anne Rice and Christianity

It's been a few days since author Anne Rice made her big statement on Facebook about how she was quitting Christianity.  She basically says she can't deal with some of the so-called "antis:"

I quit being a Christian. I'm out. In the name of Christ, I refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In the name of ...Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen .

There have been positive reviews of Rice's reasons for leaving the faith, with some (like Doug Pagitt and Brian McLaren even saying that they had thought of leaving the faith at one point or another for the very same reasons.

I don't want to make light of Rice's concerns. There have been a lot of people that have been hurt by Christians. The Church has done a lot of bad things in the name of Christ.

And yet, I keep thinking that Rice's reasons for leaving Christianity are pretty superficial. As Rod Dreher has noted:

I'm sorry, but this is weak, and makes me wonder what really happened. Surely a woman of her age and experience cannot possibly believe that the entirety of Christianity, current and past, can be reduced to the cultural politics of the United States of America in the 21st century. Does she really know no liberal Christians? Has she never picked up a copy of Commonweal? Does she really think that if she asked a Christian on the streets of Nairobi or Tegucigalpa what they, as Christians, thought of Nancy Pelosi, they would have the slightest idea what she was talking about? And Christianity, anti-science? Good grief. Has she not noticed that Catholic Church, to which she did belong until yesterday, has affirmed evolution, and embraces science? How can a woman of her putative sophistication really think that Christianity is nothing more than a section of the Republican Party at prayer?

To be clear, I (of all people!) do not wish to judge harshly people who have lost their faith. But to lose it over something as groundless and as trivial as the reasons she's given? Please. And if she's determined not to join a quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious group, she'd better stay away from religion, from politics, from, well, humanity. Because that's how we are.

Rice makes the claim that the church is filled with people who are quarrelsome, divisive and bigoted. All true. But the fact is, it has been from the beginning.

In the gospels, Jesus leaves his ministry to his disciples. Now, the disciples were not the cream of the crop. I mean, if I were Jesus, I would not consider handing over the ministry to these idiots. Let's take Peter for example. Peter was basically bigoted against anyone that wasn't Jewish and God basically had to hit him over the head to tell him to go and minister to a Gentile.

God might have made a mistake in handing over the ministry of Christ to flawed humans, but that is what happened. For two millenia, we have had churches taking care of the poor and going on crusades. We have had them bless slavery and work to abolish it. The good and the bad live together.

The church is not perfect and if we expect perfection, we can expect to be sorely dissapointed.

I can't look into Ms. Rice's mind, but I wonder if she was expecting a perfect church were there was no homophobia or where everyone is pro-choice. And what really makes me mad is that she seems to not notice that there are liberal Christians out there, let along gay Christians.

As a gay man and an African American, I have every right to want to leave Christianity. The church has not always been kind to gays or to blacks. That said, I stay in the church because I believe in a God that loves me because of who I am and because I have met Christians who have shown their love of me regardless of me being gay or being black.

But then, my faith is bigger than someone's position on stem cell research or abortion. I want to be in Christian fellowship with someone, even someone I might disagree with on issues, because that person is a sister or brother in Christ; and I will pray with them regardless of where they stand in the culture wars.

I think Erik Kain is on the right track when he says:

Rice left her Vampire novels behind her when she returned to Catholicism and wrote a pair of fictional biographies of Christ. Then, in 2008, she wrote a memoir – Called Out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession – explaining her return to her faith after years of spiritual wandering. Now, just a couple years later, she’s so troubled by the sexual abuse scandals in the Church – scandals which aren’t exactly new or post-2008 at any rate – that she can no longer believe in Christ? She’s so troubled by the anti-gay elements in Christianity that she can no longer believe that Jesus Christ is her savior? She should talk to all the gay Christians out there.

This just seems horribly superficial to me. I suppose it’s possible that Rice never really understood her faith to begin with. I suppose when politics and the culture war become everything – including how we’re received in our various social scenes – then God really does become little more than a piece of clothing, worn for a bit until it goes out of fashion, then easily discarded.

My faith in Christ, my reasons to go to church and work with my sisters in brothers, is about trying to live out the Christian faith the best way I can: in service to others, learning to love the stranger, learning to love the enemy, learning to forgive and living in God's grace. Faith isn't about adherance to a checklist, but it is a relationship with God and each other.

There will be folks who will want to keep my out of the church for being gay. They can try, but they can't take away my faith. It's too bad Ms. Rice allowed hers to be taken away so easily.

The Church, Autism and a place of Welcome

When I was a kid , I spent several years on the junior usher board at church. Of course, back in the 70s, neither I nor my parents knew I was autistic, but they knew things were a bit off with me.

Anyway, being an usher in the African American church is an artform. You wear certain uniforms and there were certain hand signals that you would use to indicate a certain need. When the time came for prayer, you were supposed to cross your arms over your chest and bow your head. I can remember the feeling of cocooning myself into this little ball and it felt good. Once I was in that position, I would start twisting or rocking my torso, to the left and then to right. Back and forth, back and forth. It felt good to me, but it must have looked damn weird to the people in the pews. I can distinctly remember one day being in my happy place and rocking back and forth until a pair of hands touched my shoulders indicating that it was time to stop.

Looking back 30 years later, that was a vivid example of kid with autism in the church. I don't know if what the person did was correct or not, but I do wonder if people were disturbed at what I was doing.

Now that I am a pastor and someone with autism, I have started to wonder how those with autism are treated in the church. In talking with a good friend who has two children on the spectrum, I have found out that churches have a long way to go in welcoming people and families where one or more persons are on the spectrum.

I stumbled upon this blog post by a special-ed teacher in Georgia, who shares the struggles he and his wife have faced when it comes to the church accomodating his son who is autistic:

One would think that the safest place in the world for children with disabilities would be in houses of worship, among people dedicated to God, love, mercy, grace, compassion, faith, and forgiveness. But this is not true at all. The worship service itself, with constant demands for compliance and conformity, is hostile for those who are inherently different from everyone else. Anyone who is unable to conform to the structures of the service is not welcome and asked to leave. The larger the church, the more true this will be.

I may editorialize more on my feelings toward church and those with disabilities later, but I want to talk a bit about how churches attempt to deal with this unique and growing population. In this particular church spoken about above, they attempted to recruit helpers in order to help Thomas participate in the same activities as his peers. I think the intent of the program was excellent, and it started out well enough. But without diligence by a committed coordinator, it becomes just another chore to dread like ushering, parking lot duty, being a greeter or assorted other mundane tasks and ministries in the church. Yes, we are the boy’s parents and he is our responsibility which we take seriously. But no one was caring much about our own spiritual growth or struggles. Staying home is a more Holy, peaceful and rejuvenating experience for many families that have children with disabilities. Church is often a hostile, hellish experience where families are segregated or ostracized. I don’t think Jesus would approve.

Ouch.

The thing is, a lot of this rings true. There are many churches where the worship service is meant to be a time of silence and decorum. God help you if a kid gets cranky. But it's one thing if grown people are talking out of turn; it's another if a kid with autism is having a meltdown.

Churches have to be more aware and willing to find ways to welcome special needs persons. Of course, being a pastor I also know that isn't so easy to do, especially when it comes autism. There isn't a one-size-fits-all solution. But no one ever said being church was easy.

When it comes to this family, I wonder what would have happened had the pastor worked with family and other leaders to make church a more welcome place, not only for the kid, but for the parents. It is interesting that in all of this, it seems that the Senior Pastor was absent.

Raising a kid with autism can be challenging for parents. They love their kids and will do what it takes to make sure they are well-cared for. But it can also be draining for them as well and it seems like in this case, no one seemed to care about the spiritual and emotional health of Thomas' parents.

Maybe the problem here is that church is so formal. We treat it like we are watching the symphony. We want to hear the music and the choir, but we don't want to hear babies crying; that just ruins everything.

I'm not saying that church needs to be a rock concert, but what it we allowed a bit more informality?

I don't know what I can do to make church more welcoming to my fellow aspies, but I will try. I want church to be a place where freaks are welcomed.

The Church as Wikipedia

Landon Whisitt is the Vice-Moderator for the Presbyterian Church (USA). He's a 34-year-old pastor from Liberty, MO and in what is common among pastors under the age of say, 45 is totally connected into social media. In a recent blog post, he says that churches have to start being like Wikipedia:

Regardless of the words we’d use, what does that idea mean – “open source church”? Whenever I try to explain “open source church” to someone I find it helpful to compare it to Wikipedia – the most successful open source organization that you have probably heard about. What would “church” look like if it were “wiki-church”?

First, it would mean that we’re clear about what and who we are and what and who we’re not. Wikipedia is very clear that it’s an encyclopedia, nothing more. We have to ask what a “church” is and be that and nothing more.

Second, we welcome everyone. Wikipedia prides itself on its “neutral point of view” which often means you have to represent several points of view. An “open source church” is not a monolithic one, does not pretend to be, nor desires to be one.

Third, anyone can participate. Wikipedia is not an exclusive club. Anyone can edit the encyclopedia, and they should expect that someone else will edit their contributions as well. An “open source church” doesn’t have a lot of hurdles one must jump in order to participate. there are not a lot of “unwritten rules” in an open source church. How about yours?

Fourth, when you disagree, be nice. Wikipedia has an established set of guidelines for dealing with disputes and people are expected to be nice and play fair. If a church can’t behave itself in disagreement then we’re not really a church are we?

Fifth, remember that there are no firm rules. Wikipedians are encouraged to remember that nothing is permanent and should, therefore, not be treated as such. Wikipedia is good because Wikipedians are willing to take risks sometimes – they break rules if it is for the benefit of the overall mission. If a church would commit itself to breaking free from long held traditions imagine the things it could do and be.

Being an “open source church” is not so much about content but attitude.

Whisitt is talking about this from the context of the Presbyterian Church, but it applies to a lot of churches, especially in my own denomination.

Any thoughts?

Motivating change

I found this blog post by Anthony B. Robinson rather profound, since I am working with a congregation in the midst of transition. Thanks to Michael Kruse for sharing it.

Duke Divinity Call & Response Blog | Faith & Leadership | Anthony B. Robinson: Motivating change

Gay Marriage: Step by Step

For about ten days, I was immersed in everything Presbyterian.

Since I work on staff for the local presbytery, I spent the last week and a half working at the 219th General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church which was held here in Minneapolis.  It was a good time, but I was worn out at the end of it all.

Of course,  number of the issues the commissioners were called to decide revolved around sexuality.  On Thursday afternoon the General Assembly voted to allow for the ordination of gay and lesbian persons. While that might sound like a great step forward, that was only part one of the process.  In Presbyterian polity, this change to the Book of Order has to be approved by a majority of presbyteries.  Related changes that allowed for gay, non-celibate clergy has passed before only to be defeated at the presbytery level.

The next issue that happened to be dealt with on the same day, was a change in the definition of marriage from "a man and a woman" to "two persons."  The result there was rather odd: the General Assembly decided to continue talking about the issue and decided to not debate the issue.  A number of people who supported the change were stunned by the results.  Maybe it was because the discussion took place so late in the day.  Maybe people could only handle one revolutionary change at a time.  Whatever happened, there was no vote to change the definition of marriage.

Many of those who support same sex marriage were quite upset at General Assembly and there was some justification.  Soulforce was present the next day, protesting the decision to not decide.

As someone who is gay and supports same sex marriage, I was disappointed.  And yet, I'm not willing to criticize the commissioners and could even at some level understand the hesitation.

I think for those of us who see being gay as a non-issue and same-sex marriage as no big deal, it's very easy to think that everyone should just get over their hangups concerning homosexuality.  We forget that for other people, this is still an issue that they are dealing with and trying to come to terms with. I think many of us who are pro-gay forget that changing the definition of marriage is a big deal for many people.  This is what I wrote over at my political blog, NeoMugwump late last year:

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.

It's easy to see those who voted to in effect, table the measure as nothing more than bigots, acting on their internalized (or not so internalized) homophobia. For supporters this was about justice. For a number on the floor, this was about trying to make the leap from one definition of marriage to another. As much as we might think the leap is inconsequential, for someone trying to come to wrap their minds around this issue, that leap is a mile wide.

The march towards inclusion of GLBT folks in the church is not something that is revolutionary as much as it is evolutionary. Most people are starting to accept gay people as every day folks because they encounter them everywhere these days. However, it is harder to accept a gay person in your pulpit (believe me, I know) or see them getting married to each other. Why? I don't know, but I tend to think that it's because they haven't seen that as much.

On the whole, American society has become more tolerant and accepting of gays and lesbians. Over time, Americans are become more willing to see gays serve openly in the military and are slowly accepting same sex marriage rights. The thing is, these things have come slowly, not rapidly.

In time, I think churches and churchgoers will come around on same sex marriage as they see more gay couples in their lives and get to hear the struggles they face. But all this takes time. Which is why I think it will be a while for the Presbyterians as well as other denominations to wholeheartedly embrace same sex marriage. It takes time for people to make the leap of logic.

Those of us who support same sex marriage should still press the case, but we have to remember that the average joe in the pews is still coming to terms with all of this. The best thing we can do is to keep working for inclusion and for those of us who are gay, to model what it means to be in a loving relationship with someone of the same sex.

And keep loving our sisters and brothers who who are trying to deal with all of this. They will get there- in time.

From the Vaults: The Old Man and the Queen

This post originally appeared in 2008. Since it's Pride Weekend in Minneapolis, I thought I would bring it out again.

As several denominations struggle with the issue of gay pastors, I am reminded of something that happened to me a few years ago.

I had just graduated from seminary and was doing my CPE at a local nursing home. I was still involved at the church where I was an intern and was asked to serve on the church board. It came to a vote and I was voted in nearly unanimously. I say nearly because one person voted against me. I knew who it was and so did many others. It was an elderly member of the church. He had some idea I was gay and many people assumed that was why he voted against me. After the meeting concluded, he asked me to come with him into another room. He explained that he prayed and studied the scripture on the issue of homosexuality, but his conscience was not swayed in favor. As he said this, he began to cry.

I was and still am touched by this guesture. He did have to speak to me to explain his actions, but he did. He might not approve of who I sleep with, but he did treat me with respect. This wasn't simply about being right for him, but about being loving.

Yeah, I know that his actions were hurtful. Yes, it would have been nice had he voted in favor. But I could respect his decsion even if it was wrong, because he valued me enough to respect me.

Why am I sharing this? I guess because sometimes those of us who fight for justice for GLBT folk tend to paint everyone and anyone who might disagree as evil and backward and not worth listening to. Many pro-gay people think saying anything that is against being gay is hurtful to gays and react strongly to anything that might be hurtful to gays.

But the thing is, there is a difference between words and people that do mean to harm and those that are just not there yet. There are people that truly hate gay people, but not everyone who might have an opinion opposing gay marriage or gay ordination is necessarily a bigot. And the fact is, I'm a big boy-I can handle an old guy.

I truly believe we must work for justice and inclusion in the church. But grace has to be part of the plan. The old man's opposition was tinged with grace and for that reason I could also respond in grace.

I still see the old man-he is now in his early 80s, but still going strong. We are friendly to each other and he still treats me with the utmost respect and even sees me as Biblical scholar (?). And I love his tenor voice-which is still strong after all these years. I have no idea how he feels about me being gay or having a husband. But I do know that he has taken the command of love very seriously and I will truly weep the day this man leaves the scene. He has taught me about grace; and for that I am ever thankful.

Great, now I'm tearing up...

From the Vaults: Trees and Forests

This post was written in April of 2009. A few things in my life made me look at it again, so I'm sharing it with you all.

One of the things that makes a bit different than most people is the fact that I see the trees instead of the forest. It's a common trait of those with autism: we tend to focus on parts of something rather than the whole.

In the day to day life that plays itself out in many ways. I and someone else might look at a certain situation and I will come away focused on one aspect of the encounter and think everything is okay, while someone else takes in everything and believes the situation is grave.

I sometimes wonder if this happens in my role as a minister. The church where I am the Associate is a church that I was a member of once, a decade ago. I had heard the stories of a church mired in its glorious past, but in the past six months, I've seen small signs of a church wanting to change. None of these are big moves, but baby steps that in some ways are farther than I expected this congregation to go.

But, then I wonder: Am I missing the big picture? Am I not seeing the whole story which might be worse than I can imagine?

I don't know. I think at times there are advantages to being able to only see parts instead of a whole, because some times we are so busy looking at the forest that we fail to see the small plant that is slowly but surely growing. And of course, there are advantages to seeing the whole picture and see that while I'm enjoying that new plant, there is a wolf nearby that sees me as lunch.

I think the congregation faces some challenges down the road, but I think there is some hope in there as well. I will use the odd gift that I have to see the hope springing forth, and I will be thankful for those who can also see the whole forest instead of just one tree. God knows we are both needed.