Radical Changes in Theology, part 2: "What Happened to THEM?!?!?"

For my last post, I pretty much wrote my own Apostles’ Creed. I don’t want to be accused of giving some cheesy sales pitch for Christianity…I understand that people are free to post beliefs of all kinds. After all, isn’t that what our nation was founded on? Freedom of religion, whatever that may be?

I am sad, that we live in a world that allows radicals (or anyone, for that matter) to be vulgar and graphic in their “fight” for what they believe in, yet when someone posts in support of Christianity, they are bullied—yes, I just used that buzzword.  If I present what I have to say, in love, shouldn’t you be kind enough to do the same?

Yet years of Christian hypocrisy have turned the waters bitter…People have heard enough of our “preaching,” without seeing enough in our LIVING. They’re sick of us. So, we actually probably deserve a lot of the “persecution” that we get, when we say what we truly believe (I use the term “persecution” VERY loosely. As an American citizen, the verbal garbage we may put up with is one thing; what the Christians in other parts of the world are experiencing is TRUE persecution. Look up the story of Pastor Saeed Abadini.).  The media isn’t kind to us—why are we surprised? We asked for it.

Had we lived the things we said were right, the world would embrace our theology. People would be drawn to us—it’s a natural human compulsion to seek love. The world should have found it in us.

They didn’t.

So they’ve turned their backs on Christians…

And they’ve turned their backs on Jesus.

I say all of this, and yet I am surprised when I learn that a friend of mine renounces their faith. In the past 6 months, I have had a friend announce that he is an atheist. Another friend announced that she is a deist. Yet another friend renounced Jesus as the Son of God. I’m being really candid here when I say that my heart is so heavy for my friends…I know the extenuating circumstances around most of these radical shifts. In at least one case, I totally understand. In another case, questions are still getting asked, and that person has a lot of sorting out to do. And in the third case (these aren’t in any order), I don’t know the backstory. I just saw the “news.”

I don’t want to come across as judgmental. These are people I’ve been to church with, or gone to school with…these are people I’ve taken Communion with, or read the Bible with. These are people I love…

Churches are ignoring key issues for their flocks. We are in an era where it is time to stop being polite, and to start tackling the issues. Your people want to know where you stand on relevant, key topics: Homosexuality. The environment. Health. Stewardship. Families. Racism. Stop preaching to the Christians, and start talking to the people.

The Church has become a confusing encampment, an insulated BioDome, for like-minded people. It’s not what it was supposed to be…we are shutting out people that are looking for something to fill the emptiness in their hearts. The key issues I referred to? They are the questions people want answers to. If we’re too afraid, too concerned with keeping it G-rated, then they’re going to find those answers somewhere else.

Stop being afraid, Church, and make the shift!

Tackle these issues—your children are! What do you think they’re hearing on the radio, or seeing at school? THEY ARE EXPOSED, yet you want to come together on Sunday morning and act like we’re all a bunch of innocents? It’s not true—we start the week in our lily-whiteness, and by Saturday night, we’re like a bunch of dirty air filters…It’s not that we’re jumping into sin or bad things; it’s that they’re in the atmosphere.

My generation—GEN-X—and the following generations are a different breed. The baby boomers are typically the ones running the church, and the Gen-Xrs (and after) are the ones running away.  My friends don’t understand the need for Jesus! After studying the Bible!  What’s wrong? What happened?!?

We have a responsibility as a body to teach people, to arm them; more than that, we have a responsibility to set examples. The examples are what cause faith to be engrained into hearts. Do you remember the sermon that was preached 2 weeks ago? Or do you remember the guy that brought you some soup when you were sick? Which event makes you want to get to know someone a little bit better? Think about it!

My friends that decided that they don’t need Jesus? Maybe that’s my fault. Maybe it’s yours. Maybe we didn’t do a good enough job or set a good enough example.

Maybe it’s not our fault, and we had nothing to do with it…but if we had set a good example, it wouldn’t have hurt anything.

 I consider myself to be a “nice” person, so the thought of an open discussion about something that I know I disagree with, scares me…but it’s what we have to embrace. The “debate” on gay marriage? I don’t want to talk about it. It makes me uncomfortable. But if someone asks me about it, I have a responsibility to state my position with clarity, respect, and with reason. I have to be definitive, because anything less gives the impression of doubt. Debates about gun control, terrorism, sexual identity, evolution—all of these topics are things that can get really uncomfortable, really quickly. Christians in the church avoid these discussions because they just assume that we’re all on the same page. That’s not a safe ASSumption…but if we don’t talk about it, we won’t know.

If we don’t talk about these things, we have people who will leave, and find the answers for themselves. Without the respectful and loving guidance of the Church, the answers these people find may cost them their salvation.

Then again, they may not even believe in salvation anymore, by the time the find what they were looking for.

We have a RESPONSIBILITY to be a resource for people. There is nothing in the earthly ministry of Jesus Christ that shows Him skipping topics, preaching to the choir, or working in a bubble. He got out there amongst the “undesirables” of His community. He ran with the stinky fishermen, the tax collecting crooks, the prostitutes.  He went to the fields, and He spoke to the children. He talked about EVERYTHING; He did everything He wasn’t “supposed” to do, and He did it in love.

He took on uncomfortable topics, and He angered the leadership. He asked questions, and He answered questions; not once, was He arrogant or judgmental in His responses. He embraced the unembraceable…He talked to the ones the church had thumbed their noses to.

THAT is why He was sought…it still is. He loves.

So should we.

I do not understand why my friends have had their radical shifts in theology. But I take responsibility for a fraction of it, because I am someone they interacted with, even on a platonic level. So, what’s next?

Do I spend my lifetime, attempting to coerce them to believe like I believe?

Do I preach at them until they unfriend me on Facebook?

Do I chase them with my Bible, or tell them if they don’t revert their thinking, they’re going straight to Hell?

Tell me how far you think that’s going to get me.

I’m sure they don’t want my prayers, but they’re getting them, even though I probably won’t tell them about it. I know they don’t want me to try to “convert” them.

So I’m not going to.

They’re adults; they’ve made their decisions, and they are happy with them. Nothing I say is going to impact them, at this point, if it’s said in a way that makes them think I’m trying to change them.

 It’s not my job to sell them on what I believe.

The Holy Spirit is the One Who draws us in to the Father…He’s the One Who woos us, Who gently calls us.

As a Christian, these people know where I stand. They know that if they ever want to talk about it, I’m here. They should also know that I’m never going to hit them over the head with the Bible. I hope they know that I love them, and that they’ve taught me so much more than they’ll ever know. My hope is that by keeping an open mind, and a gentle heart, that my example will make some kind of a lasting impact on how they view Christianity.

I want to change the way people see us…for them to stop seeing us as a bunch of judgmental jerks, and to start seeing us as a people of love. It’s not a blatant proselytizing. It’s a subtle embrace that just might cause people to want what we have.

Right now, the secular world isn’t seeing that.

We live in a society that has rejected God, that has no foundation, and that has no moral absolutes. As a church, we’ve been tainted by the prevalent narcissism that affects our communities and our children; we are an arrogant, judgmental bunch of cronies that are sorely out of touch with our environment. The only messages that are getting out to the public are the ones we preach when we fall. We are blowing our possibilities for impact because we are too selfish to see past the doors of the church.

The Church has to embrace a radical shift in theology, just like my friends did. We have got to ask questions, and provide answers to the tough subjects. We have to stop taking it for granted that everyone in that building believes in the same thing; we have to banish “Christianese,” and we have to GET REAL.

Get dirty, folks: we may be a family, but we ought to be a little more Duck Dynasty and a lot less Von Trapp.

I’m tired of being “pretty” at church. I want to get honest, to get genuine. I want to hear a dialogue, not one guy getting his thoughts out for an hour. I want to feel woven together, not like I’m in an audience. Maybe if we could create this sense of community, we would foster a place where people feel free to ask the hard questions without any sense of shame…

I want the unembraceables to come to my church.

I don’t want them to feel like we have nothing to offer them or that our God is some pie-in-the-sky judge with a Smite button.

I want them to see and feel love…like it’s a place they want to be, and a God they want to know more about.

I want my friends to remember why they were ever drawn to Christianity in the first place, and to ask the questions that they couldn’t get answered, and that made them change their minds…

I currently attend a church where nearly every Sunday, the pastor asks what has to be the scariest question he asks all week: “So, what’d you guys get out of this?” It’s got to be terrifying for him, but he asks, anyways. I love it; I look forward to it. He lets us respond back to him. Not only does it tell him that he got his point across (or not); it allows us to interact as a body, in what feels like a very organic, family-minded way. It’s my favorite part of the “sermon” (it doesn’t really feel like a sermon—yet another thing that I like). Being able to comment, or ask questions, shouldn’t feel like a rare thing on a Sunday morning!!!!!!  It should be NORMAL!

I’m quoting myself here:  “This is a family...there should always be a healthy amount of vulnerability and respect in a family. It's where love breeds freedom.” Freedom breeds honesty. Honesty breeds respect. Respect eventually breeds love. 

We’re called to love…and if we truly did, we wouldn’t have any “former” faithful.

We all have the same calling—not to get our opinions out there—not to make someone feel condemned for who they are—not to feel like we’re the ones who are right all of the time—We are called to love. Love by example, love by words. When we’re together as a body of believers, don’t lock the doors and isolate yourselves. Don’t sit in the same chairs, don’t sit by the same people. Be uncomfortable. Look for someone you don’t know, and make them feel comfortable.

Ask the questions you really want answers to, of your leadership, and of your Christian friends. If you’re confused about an uncomfortable subject, send it a text or an e-mail (or both, just to make sure it’s received). Don’t feel like you have nowhere to turn; the Church should feel like the FIRST place to turn. 

I don’t want to hear that any more of my friends have walked away from a personal, intimate God. Their radical shifts in theology have made me take stock, and have made me formulate my own radical shift; for that, I am thankful. I hope that I live in such a way that they are reminded that He loves them…and that when I fail, that they forgive me, and not hold it against Him. I want to be real with them. I don’t want to paint a picture of “perfection.” Just love.

And that’s it.

Radical Changes of Theology, Part 1: The Introduction

This is Part 1, because it’s a big issue that’s been on my heart lately. Before I talk about the faith of my friends, though, I think I’d better talk about where I’m coming from. It’s important to me, that I share what I believe—for my own sake, if anything. Thus, this blog is a two-parter. Bear with me.

Growing up, I was very different from my peers. In my tiny, predominately-Baptist elementary school, I was the only one I can think of that had a divorced mother (the horror!). I was mouthy (like my mom); my mother worked full-time (dear GOD!); and we didn’t wear the nicest clothes (but my 7^th grade L.A. Gear kicks ROCKED!).  I used words that shocked my teachers (I once got a serious reprimand for telling a bully to “drop dead”) and due to my chattiness, rarely saw the playground at recess.

I didn’t fit the mold of a “good” Christian girl.

I never got into serious trouble; I stayed in school, went to church, and for the most part, did as I was told…but I never fit in, especially when it came to theology. When my mom married my dad (step-dad), she was a Southern Baptist who married a die-hard Catholic…and they moved us to a charismatic church. I went from hymnals to words projected like a movie on the walls! People raised their hands! It was like a rock concert!

And there…

Was…

Speaking in tongues.

Oh. My. Lawd!

I was 8 years old, at the time of “the shift.” I was water-baptized, had accepted Jesus as my Savior, and learned about the Holy Spirit from amazing teachers and youth leaders. By the time I was 14, I spoke in tongues (you have no idea how hard it is, for me to put that into writing, because I know the flack I’ve gone through on this subject, and I know it’s likely going to ruffle a few feathers now. But so what? It’s my blog, and yes, I believe in speaking in tongues. There. I said it. Now pick up your jaw, non-charismatic friends, and move on), and I stayed active in the charismatic church until I was 34. I now attend what’s called a four-square church—I’m still figuring out what that means, because it seems the same as my charismatic church. It’s probably semantics, more than anything…

Both my high school and my college ascribed to the “tongues are bad” rule of thought. The fact that I didn’t go to the evangelical, Baptist, or independent Christian churches (I swear, they’re all alike—don’t get mad about that. It’s true—small, minor doctrinal issues, along with that whole once-saved-always-saved debate. That’s it), made me a bit of a pariah. I argued with my apologetics teachers; I stormed out of my Acts classes (Really?!?! You have someone teach Acts, who doesn’t believe in the current usage of spiritual gifts?!? And that the Rapture already happened? So weird). I rarely debated my friends, but I know I drove my professors nuts.

But we’re passionate about what we love…and I love Jesus.

I was raised in the church. Praying is, to me, an ongoing conversation with the greatest of Friends. It’s normal—it’s my life. I’m not saying that I’m some super-awesome-Christian woman; in fact, it makes me more flawed, because I take it for granted. Half the time (okay, more than half) I totally forget to even say an “Amen.” But it’s in my veins—no matter what I’ve been through, no matter how angry I’ve gotten at God, I don’t think I’ve ever doubted His existence. He’s there.

I’m a total screw-up…my mouth gets me in more trouble than I know. I struggle with reading the Bible, and I always have…I’m more prone to get an intimate peek at the nature of God while I’m on a hike, than when I’m sitting in church (but I still go, because my husband says so, and because I’ve learned to lean on the fellowship that knits us together!). I tend to think of myself as a Christian hippie, as silly as that sounds: Love everyone, even the ones that disagree with you, because fighting sucks, and is a terrible reflection of the God you say you’re witnessing about.

(As I’m writing this, my biggest fear is that it will come across as arrogant. I don’t intend to be. It’s just that in my life, God has always been there. Always, even when I don’t see Him, and when I don’t think He cares. He’s there—I’m the one that misses Him, not the other way around. It’s a lifelong struggle for me, to embrace His love for me, because I feel like I do the wrong thing so often…but I know He’s there, no matter how much I’ve messed up. So please don’t think I’m sitting here like Sister Christian with my big nose in the air—it’s not true.)

I’m a simple girl, who misses God when I over-complicate things…when I worry, and when I don’t rely on Him…and when I try to figure Him out ahead of His timing.

That being said, I believe in having an intimate relationship with God.

I believe that Jesus is the Son of God…that He made a crazy, ridiculous decision to come to Earth and to be born as a human being…that He actually, medically died the most brutal death man could construct, and that He was in a grave for 3 literal days.

I believe that Jesus rose from the dead.

I believe that He was the ultimate sacrifice that was required to bring restoration to our relationship with the Father…to a relationship that was destroyed when sin entered the world.

I believe in a literal 7-day creation.

I believe in Heaven; I believe in Hell; I believe in Satan; I believe that Satan gets defeated and that this world as we know it will come to an end.

I believe in the Rapture; I believe in the AntiChrist, and I believe in the Tribulation…and no, I don’t think it’s happened yet.

I believe in Communion; I believe in getting baptized by water and by the Holy Spirit (as evidenced by speaking in tongues).

I also believe that you have to accept the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ in order to spend eternity in Heaven…and that everything else is debatable, but not determinate of salvation.

I don’t believe that any of us have the answers…but I know that my life without my relationship with God is not worth living.

I will listen to what you say; my goal is to make you feel loved when you tell me your beliefs. I do not have to agree with you, but I do have to respect you; I ask that you do the same, for me. I will not argue with you, but I might ask you questions. I will try not to offend you with my questions, and I ask you to understand my heart—I just want to know.

I will treat you with gentleness and respect (I Peter 3:15) and I will ferociously defend you against people that do not do the same, especially when they do it under the guise of “Christianity.” Bullying wins NO ONE to a cause.

So this is it. This is what I believe. I’m used to people not agreeing with me—it’s okay. Just be nice about it.

I promise to do the same.

I don’t know if I would tell you that my faith has evolved much from when I was 8 years old. I knew what I was doing, when I got saved; the pastor explained it, and it made sense to me. It still does—it’s not that complicated. I know how my heart feels, when I talk to Him; I know what He sounds like, when I listen. It’s a simple intimacy…it’s just simple. It was a blanket-belief when I was 8 years old; almost 30 years later, I still hold to the same belief. It’s tried, it’s tested….me and Jesus have been through hell together, and He’s never left me. Trials and tragedies have fused me to Him; no matter how far I run, He always brings me back. He never lets me get too far, before His gentle conviction calls me back to His side.  I don’t think I could leave Him if I tried (“Anybody got a peanut?!?” LOL—get it?).

Recently, several of my friends have undergone radical changes in their theology.  I’m going to discuss it in my next blog, because I feel like I have to—I have to process this, because my heart hurts for them, though I know that’s the last thing they want. We’ve all had things thrown at us; we’ve all had to sort out the whys and hows of our faith. We each chose a different resolution, and I don’t understand…I am struggling, with my friends’ decisions. I accept them; I love them. But I don’t get it, so I have to write about it…this is how I process.

To Be Continued…

PS: I sincerely apologize for my over-use of semicolons in this piece. I mean, seriously--I'm normally really bad about it, but this is just ridiculous. Between the commas and the semicolons, I'm totally over-punctuated. But at least there are no technical run-on sentences. :)

The Approach...

Things come to my attention in strange, random patterns—this is nothing new. Although I would never classify myself as ADD, I am most definitely easily distracted. It’s why I work best, alone. I love to be social, but it’s just not productive. When I’m alone, I can obsessively push myself to get the job done. I can actually be quite driven, when I have a lot to do. But, I digress…(wasn’t that my point?!?!)…

Anyways, this week has brought on the marketing onslaught known as Mothers’ Day.

The past 6 years of Mothers’ Days have brought me no end of heartache. The day is crippling, no matter how I look on the outside; I will never, ever forget that first Mothers’ Day after Hannah passed away. The gaping hole where my heart had been was publicly exposed, raw, bleeding, and so broken; the ladies in my church will never know how much their kindness meant to me, in the middle of my valley.

I wanted to die.

The following years were “better,” but still painful…Mothers’ Day reminds me just how truly scarred I am. As I walk down the Hallmark aisles, and I read the beautiful sentiments that I’d like to give to my own mother, I find myself taking a “selah” moment to simply breathe.

I thought my first Mothers’ Day with JD would make all of that heartache go away…but really, it doesn’t. It’s still there, and I know it always will be, to a certain extent (though it’s easy to say that it is so much better than it ever was…time and grace are truly a healing balm).  The onslaught of pink, flowery, sparkly Mothers’ Day cards still hurts.

It’s a gentle ache, more than anything…but I notice it. My loss is not forgotten…

It’s hard for me to pick out a Mothers’ Day card for my mom, even though no one deserves it more than she does. She’s been incredible, through this process; I feel like a lot of subconscious damage has been repaired through both my pregnancy and in watching her with my son. She really is the most amazing grandmother. She’s reminding me more of my Grandma Myers—and anyone who has heard me talk about Grandma Myers knows that there is no higher compliment in my book. Guess I should tell her that, sometime, eh?  

However, to pick out a card for my mom, means that I have to sift through a bunch of cards that were never for me. And even this year, when I’ve “earned” one, I still look at them with a sideways glance—is that for real? Like motherhood hasn’t officially set in, yet…

Did you know that I finally, after 7 years, put in the “#1 Mom” earrings my mother had bought me while I was pregnant with Hannah? I never felt like I could wear them, until now…Even though I gave birth, I don’t know that I have ever truly accepted my role as a mother. Hearing myself say it now, even when I look at the little man that came out of my body, still sounds strange.

Looking back, it seems like someone else’s life; looking forward, it seems the same: It’s hard to believe that it’s all real.  She was here…she was real. I still remember that she smelled like Cheerios…she was born with more hair than JD…she was tiny, so small…I could have held her for days—but that’s all I got to hold her for…She had my feet, and she looked like her daddy…

And she will always be my first…

He is here, and he is real…and he smiles; he laughs. He looks for me when I walk into the room; he buries his head in my neck and he puts his chubby hands into my hair.  He has my hands, my feet, my legs…he has my inquisitive nature, and my fear of missing out on something.  He looks like so much of his daddy, but so much of me, and he is the reason I have to catch my breath when I leave for work in the morning…

He is, as far as we know, our last…

Mothers’ Day is coming, and it is mine. This one belongs to me…this one, this makes up for the ones that I’ve lost. It makes up for the Mothers’ Days that I cried myself to sleep, that I dreaded with my very soul. This Mothers’ Day, I will make a concentrated effort to celebrate for what it is: This is a day in which the world stops to thank those women whose blood, sweat, and tears form the clay of their lives. I am one of those women…And maybe I was one before, I don’t know. I never saw myself that way.

I always saw myself as a “temporary mother,” like it was only a momentary assignment.

Not this time.

This time, I will see myself as a momma…as a woman who always wanted to be a momma, more than anything else…And though it seems strange to me, to put myself into that category, it seems strangely perfect….everything I ever hoped of, or dreamed of…everything I ever prayed for, even on the tough days.

This Mothers’ Day, I celebrate my mom more than ever; I feel like I understand her just a little bit more.

I’ve picked out a card for her—it’s the first one I looked at, and it seemed the most right. I hope she likes it.  I don’t know if I will get a card for this, my first “real” Mothers’ Day; is it wrong, if I blatantly say that I hope I do? I really do; I want to cherish this day like never before. If you could see the party that is going on inside of my head, you would understand. I really am celebrating…even with the slight breeze of melancholy that echoes through…

(The most precious thing about this picture, is how it was taken. It's a random snapshot of JD, laying on my belly, looking up at me...He's about 10 weeks old in this picture, and I love his expression...)