A Lament

I don't get as many honest conversations about important things as I'd like these days. I thrive on that stuff, which leads my mental belly to feel unfull. I can run if there's a reason to run, if there are other people running, with purpose; but when I'm running all by myself, I tend to slow down or just start walking.

Unsettle yourself to save yourself

There's that bit in the bible where Jesus tells a parable about people at the end of days who are fully prepared to enter ye olde pearly gates only to have Jesus stop them and say, "Um, who are you?" Then the people will be confused and say, "Lord, lord, we were totally believing in you and going to church and singing songs and giving our money." And then Jesus is going to ask that bit about "Where were you when I was hungry and thirsty and naked?" And he's going to explain that when we were kind and generous to the ugly, needy, coarse, dirty people who can't talk real good English and probably have a drug problem or a family problem or a hygiene problem, that we were actually kind and generous to him.

And lots of people are going to be extra sad because they did not get into the kingdom. Because they did not get it. Or if they did get it, they didn't do anything about it. Because they were probably too busy or too distracted or too afraid.

Those are typically my reasons, anyway.

And I think there will be lots of Americans that aren't a part of the kingdom, but think they are. I don't know who these people are, and I'm not qualified to make guesses. That's God's business anyway, and I'll gladly leave him to it.

Jesus tells another parable, about the church. A field is planted, and a bunch of weeds are growing with the wheat. A servant asks the master if they should go pluck the weeds, but the master tells him to leave them alone. He tells him that if they go plucking out all the weeds, then they might uproot some of the wheat in the process, so just let them grow together and they'll separate everything at harvest time.

When Jesus tells parables about the Pharisees, he's talking to us, as American Christians. We are the wealthy, dominant, religious authority. We are the interpreters and definers of our scriptures, of our culture, of right and wrong.

It's important for us to not get comfortable with the way things are, with the way things have been. It's important to recognize that we might have believed for a long time, but that means there's been a long time for subtle threads of distraction and deception to work their way into our understanding of what it means to follow Jesus.

Uncertainty is the spice of life

It doesn't take long for me to feel apprehensive and uncertain about this blog. It's why I took so long to start writing again, and now it's affecting my posts through self-censorship and second guessing. It's sort of the nature of being me: have a good idea, be unsure how to communicate that idea in a palatable way, sit on the idea until it looks for a weak point of escape, have the idea verbally explode during an unexpected moment...often leading to social awkwardness. This experience then influences the next idea in line by pushing it further down for fear of another outburst. Rinse, repeat.

I am tempted to take these entries and apologize for who I am because I am aware that I can be frustrating, contrary, and bulky. I'm aware of it, sure, but that only helps me deal with it to a certain degree. I suspect it drives people away, limits my personal influence, and sours the development of friendships. But I wonder how many of these apologies would be little more than subtle grabs for self-pitying attention, born of misguided attempts to counteract feelings of rejection.

I want to write about personal relationships that are failing or frustrate me. But they are--or were--personal relationships, and shouldn't be made public, even if written in attempted anonymity.

I want to write about a mix of Christianity, human tendencies, the evil and goodness that battles inside all people, materialism, and American culture. I want to write corrective rebukes of the church based on what I've learned in my life as a believer in Jesus, as a life long church member, as a student of human psychology and society, as a student of the Bible. But what authority do I have to say anything? I don't have the MDiv or the popular following necessary to be considered tenable. Though I'd argue that these ideas are native to God; voiced and lived through Jesus; and historically, psychologically, and socially rationalized and downplayed by humanity.

And what right do I have to say anything anyway? I live like most everyone else does. There isn't much in my life that is exemplary--I'm no model for the way of life that I get excited about in the gospel. I can be self-righteous, stingy, and bull-headed with the best of 'em.

So how the hell do I get these ideas out of my head and into my life, and into the lives of others who claim to live and love the same things that I do? That's what we'll all discover (because I'm not alone here, am I?) in due time, I guess.

Forest for the Trees

I have no idea how to put my feelings about Christianity into a concise form. I have enough stuff in my head to fill a book, but I have no idea how to do that. I also have little confidence that anyone would be interested in hearing my thoughts on the matter, as most of the people I'd want to reach seem content with their faith as is.

I'm hoping that if I start writing about it here, it'll start to take shape in my head. It would be nice to even be able to talk about this stuff in a clear way, rather than having so many issues thunder to the front at once.

The main issue is that, for me, Christians are the primary reason that I am inclined at times to believe there is no God at all. I should specify that I'm talking about American Christianity, as it is the only culture I'm familiar enough with. When I look at Christianity, I see explainable psychological and social influences, the emotional and cognitive manipulations that are common to man. I see the wealthy and the eye of the needle. I see complacency and status quo.

But who am I anyway? Well, I'm one of those Christians too, to be certain. So what gives me the right to say anything? And who's to say I'm right? Maybe this is just me complaining about things again. Maybe this is all an elaborate attention-getting exercise.

Or maybe the Bible is about revolutionary love. And maybe it means something more to deny yourself, pick up your cross, and follow the Anointed One than what we--as entitled, rich Americans--are willing to accept.

It is my intent to air these thoughts and in so doing to file off some of these rough edges. I would say that I love God, that I love Jesus, that I love the Church. And so I am left carrying a raging pain and sadness that we--as God's wealthy children--are squandering our inheritance on iPads, new cars, and big houses; on rockin' worship music, slick media presentations, and other forms of branding. In the name of relevance, of drawing people in, of acceptance.

Because the Gospel as it is can't do that, not true love alone. Not believers denying themselves. Taking up their crosses. And following Jesus in a life of love so radical that it killed him.

I'm not here to judge, not really, though I'm sure I'll do a fair share of it. I'm here in hope to reconcile the faith that I read about in the Bible and the faith that I see in myself and my fellow Christians.

the Kingdom of Heaven does not allow dual citizenship