Category Archives: church

January 9, 2020 · 4:05 PM

Why I Stay Away From The Church Of Christ

*Disclaimer. I’ve obviously never been to every Church of Christ in existence, and I haven’t met all of its members. I know every church has its own “feel”, and that it is made up of individuals who, like me, are just trying to do the best they can. What follows is based solely on my own experiences at a handful of difference C of Cs, with a handful of members, over the course of a few decades. Keep in mind as you read this that I have been hurt by the church, badly, and that these words are deeply informed by that hurt.*

I almost titled this post, “Why I left the Church of Christ,” but then I realized that 1) I’ve already done that, and 2) that’s not really what this is about. It’s about why I continue to stay away. Why I’m continually reminded, years later, why I felt forced to make the decision that I did.

A very brief primer for those who didn’t follow me back then: I left the church because I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the “We are the ONE true path to God” rhetoric. I left the church because I was being taught how to judge, not how to love. And I left the church because I found it hypocritical that some “sins” were elevated above all others (ie: homosexuality, which I don’t actually believe is a sin), while others were celebrated. Fact: I never truly understood what gossip meant until I joined a women’s “prayer circle.” Holy moly.

I was damaged by the church, and if you think that’s an exaggeration, I assure you I’m in good company. Many many people share my story, from many different congregations, and many different walks of life. And every time I think I’ve healed from that damage, something comes sneaking to the surface that tells me, “Nope, not yet.”

This time it was anger.

Because the fact is, one of the biggest reasons I stay away is because I’m not welcome, something I’m reminded of on a nearly daily basis.

And I get it. I do. In this current political climate, people are drawing hard lines in the sand. God knows I haven’t been shy about my feelings about Trump.

But when friends (and by friends, I mean people I used to go to church with) are posting things like this:

Or proudly wearing their shirts that say things like this:

The message is clear. As a Democrat, as a liberal, I’m merely a punching bag. Something to insult. A butt of a joke. Their church welcomes conservative Republicans. Full stop. And honestly? Even if I did feel welcomed? It still wouldn’t change the fact they also don’t welcome LGBTQ members, or a host of other people, except under the guise of “praying for them” and helping them to turn away from their sinful lifestyles.

Another fun fact? I have dealt with depression my entire adult life, another thing I’ve been told isn’t “of God.” That if I’d just turn to God, he’d take it away. I still remember, over a decade ago, when a truly lovely and kind and Christ-like church member, someone I’d always looked up to, died by suicide. And the collective grieving that followed was not just focused on the loss of this beautiful soul, or the fact that depression had claimed another victim, but on how unfortunate it was that she was going to be permanently separated from God. That murder was a sin. That suicide victims could never go to heaven.

Judge and jury. Against everyone and everything they don’t deem as right. Or holy. Or pure.

Or just like them. And that’s really the biggest one of all. They cater to people who believe like they do. And think like they do. And behave like they do. Everyone else? Well, you’re welcome to come, as long as you’re fine with us telling you everything you’re doing wrong.

And let me be clear. I’m fine with like-minded individuals gathering to worship or to fellowship or to pat themselves on the back. Honestly. But don’t pretend to be something you’re not. Don’t pretend to be “bringing people to Jesus” when you’re pushing them away. Don’t pretend to be “spreading God’s love” when what you’re really spreading is judgment. Don’t pretend that “all are welcome” when you and I know both know that someone like me would not at all be welcomed… and would, in fact, be ridiculed, gossiped about, and/or eventually asked to change my ways or leave.

I love God (something I didn’t truly learn to do until after I left the church), and I wholeheartedly believe that He loves me too.

Even if I’m not, nor will I ever be, a conservative Republican.

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Filed under church, faith, religion, Uncategorized

April 7, 2014 · 10:07 AM

Whatever You Did for One of the Least of These… Some Thoughts About World Vision

Alice is a 6 year old girl who lives in Rwanda.  She has big brown eyes, her favorite thing to play is ball games, and she likes to sing.

Jordan is 4.  He lives in Ecuador, has a sweet smile, and loves to play soccer.

Dominic is an 8 year old from Ghana.  His pictures show a gentle soul.  His favorite pastime is rolling tires, and his favorite thing to learn about is science.

All of the above are real children, waiting to be sponsored through World Vision.  I share this with you not to make you feel guilty.  The truth is, I don’t sponsor a child.  In fact, I’ve never personally sponsored a child through World Vision or any other organization.  We’ve mostly chosen to give our money locally, and/or to causes or people that we know personally.  Also, the decision to sponsor a child is a commitment, one that needs to be honored, month after month.  Making such a commitment wasn’t always the best choice for our family, especially during the months and years that we ourselves struggled to make ends meet and put food on the table.

Now though, I’m seriously considering it.  Not just in response to the recent fallout, but also because I think we have a responsibility…. not just as Christians, but as living, breathing, caring human beings who share this planet… to step in and help those who are less fortunate, especially when they’ve been turned away by others. Of this, I am sure.  And I’d certainly like to think that the vast majority of people reading these words would agree. We’re here to help each other.

So where on earth did we go wrong?

Here’s a bit of timeline, for those who are unclear on the details:

 

On March 24th, World Vision (an organization started and run by evangelical Christians) announced that – after much deliberation over the years – their new hiring policy would allow them to hire those in same-sex marriages.

Over the next 48 hours, they were inundated with messages, phone calls, and Facebook posts from angry Christians who disagreed with their decision, and who promptly pulled their sponsorships and support of World Vision.

On March 26th, faced with dropping sponsorships in the thousands,  the people of World Vision felt they had no choice but to officially reverse their decision.

All told, 10,000 children were abandoned by their sponsors.

 

I truly don’t think I’ve ever been as heartbroken or disappointed by my fellow Christians’ behavior as I am over this. And make no mistake.  This is not about homosexuality.  This is about people hurting hungry kids to make a point. This is about taking food from the mouth of a child to take a theological stand.  It’s about people who are clinging so tightly to a belief…. so desperately… so stubbornly… that they’ve completely lost sight of what it is they are holding. How sound is your theology if it causes you, in any way, to take food from a hungry child? How is it showing God’s love if your stance against a group of people – any people – is so great that you’re literally willing to use an impoverished child to make your point?

What difference does it make if Rachel in payroll is married to a woman??

10,000 kids.  I’ve already heard people saying, “Oh that number must be exaggerated.”  I do tend to trust the number, especially since it was given by the president of World Vision himself, but for the sake of argument let’s say it’s exaggerated.  What if it was “only” 1,000?  Would that be okay?  What if it was 100?  10?  What’s an acceptable number of hungry kids left without a sponsor?

The Bible tells a parable of a lost sheep, and a shepherd who so loves and cares for every individual sheep that he will leave 99 sheep behind to go find the one that is lost.  (Matthew 15) Every person is important. Every life is important.

But the more I think about this, the more I realize that the “lost sheep” in this scenario are the ones who honestly believed that the Christ-like thing to do was to take their money away from these children.  I have no other way to reconcile this in my mind.  Those people are lost, and I don’t know how to reach them.

I hear a lot of comments to the effect of, “What’s the big deal?  So they’ll just take their money to another organization whose morals line up with their own.”  Well, first of all, you won’t find one.  These organizations are made up of people… imperfect people, every one of which is going to do something in his or her own personal life that you deem inappropriate.  Second, and most importantly, it’s not just a hypothetical, abstract organization that you’re pulling away from.  It’s a child, with a name, and a face, and a real need that you were filling.

It’s Alice from Rwanda.

It’s Jordan from Ecuador.

It’s Dominic from Ghana.

I’m tired.  I’m tired of these difficult conversations.  I’m tired of trying to explain something that’s unexplainable to my kids.  I’m tired of people using a God that I love to defend some pretty horrible things.  There are so very many shades of grey in this world, but this isn’t one of them. God does not approve of turning your back on a hungry kid.  Jesus does not approve of turning your back on a hungry kid.  In fact, it is the absolute opposite message of that very same Bible that you’re using to justify this.

 

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

 

I am devastated right now.  I am angry.  And to be totally honest, my first reaction when I heard about all of this was truly, “I. Give. Up.”  But I know that’s not the answer.  Now more than ever is the time to stand together… Christians and non-Christians alike.  Gay, straight, conservative, liberal…. everyone who can see this situation for what it is, and to recognize that there was a clear right and wrong here.  Stand together, speak boldly, and say,

“No more.”

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Filed under church, faith, hot topics, rant

January 2, 2013 · 7:11 AM

I Am Not a Christian

Waldo

We have a ball python named Waldo. We named him Waldo for the late great Ralph Waldo Emerson (and also because people seemed to find the idea of being able to lament, “Where’s Waldo??” in the event of an escape side-splittingly funny.) He’s a wonderful pet. He’s playful and friendly, and loves to slither around our laps on the couch. It’s fun to watch him eat too… striking out to catch the – already dead – mouse we dangle from the tweezers, squeezing it until it’s good and dead, and then ever so slowly and deliberately swallowing it whole.

One of the coolest things about snakes though is their ability to shed their skin. I’m fascinated by this. They outgrow their old skin, it turns white and brittle and loose, and here is this new skin: beautiful, bright, and vibrant, ready to take its place. Ideally, the old skin comes off in one long complete piece… so intact that you can clearly see where the eyes once resided. Sometimes though, they have a bad, or an incomplete shed. The skin comes off in stages and pieces. When that happens, the retained skin can cause problems for the snake, so it’s important to have rough items like branches, bark, and rock in the cage so that the snake can rub against them to help snag and remove the remaining skin. That’s exactly what happened the last time Waldo shed. His cage was filled with pieces of skin of varying length, and we wondered if we’d have to do something to help. But he worked it out: he used the rough bark of his hiding log, and eventually it was all gone. He was fresh and new and shiny again.

I am a snake.

For the past several years, I’ve been on a journey to slowly shed my outgrown skin in many many facets of my life, but particularly in my walk as a Christian. For so many (So. Many.) years I was bound by rules and regulations and legalities, and as I grew and changed and evolved… it just didn’t fit anymore. I started to crave freedom and grace and freedom again, and I just wasn’t finding them in my old skin.

I am thankful, honestly thankful, for the painful church experiences of my past that started the process, that tore off that first big piece, the one that gave me the glimpse of the beauty that lay beneath. Just the taste, just the possibility of the freedom that was to come gave me hope. And those final bits of skin? The stubborn ones? Well those eventually came off too, thanks to the people I’ve encountered along the way; the ones who served as those rough logs, sloughing off the old meaning of the word, “Christian”, and replacing it with something new. Those people are the ones who helped me see who I am, who I’m not, and who I so desperately want to be.

If a Christian is someone who uses a Bible not as a source of strength or knowledge or information, but as a weapon, something from which to cherry-pick scriptures to clobber others, to prove a point, and to win an argument…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who thinks he can say with any authority who is and who is not going to go to heaven; who arrogantly thinks he knows the status of someone else’s walk with God, let alone his salvation…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who disparages others just because they happen to be a Democrat or a liberal or someone who voted “the wrong way” in the last election…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who doesn’t let another Christian into their group or club or school because they’re the wrong kind of Christian, or because their beliefs or interpretations of God and the Bible may differ from their own…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who stands as judge and jury of someone else’s lifestyle; someone who finds it appropriate to go onto someone else’s Facebook page and just tell her, point-blank: “You are not a true Christian if you XYZ”…

I am not a Christian.

And riiiiiiiiip, there it goes, the very last little thready bits of skin. Except it doesn’t hurt. It feels good. It feels freeing.

That skin didn’t fit. And it hadn’t fit for so long.

I have no anger towards those people either. No bitterness. Only gratitude. And I’ll fully admit that that wasn’t always the case. I have one faithful friend who can attest to the number of, “Have I mentioned lately how much Christians annoy me?” texts I’ve sent her over the past year. It’s only now that I can see them for what they were… just people on their own journey, people who may or may not have skin to shed of their own. How they’re living out their own personal walk is none of my business, and likewise:

No one else but me gets to decide my path for ME.

I’m free.

Does that freedom then mean that I just live my life all willy-nilly, devil-may-care, any old way, and if God doesn’t like it that’s just too damn bad? Of course not. On the contrary, as someone who does truly love God, I am always learning, always growing, always examining, always questioning. Christianity is actually a lot like yoga (which, ironically, is another area that’s garnered me the, “You can’t be a true Christian if you do that!” comments) in that you never know everything there is to know. You’re never finished learning. You’re never finished getting better. By all means, even though I’m a teacher I’m still relatively new to yoga. And even though I’ve been a Christian my whole life, I’m still very new to the idea of grace. Of real faith. Of freedom. For the first time in, well… ever… I can’t wait to learn more.

So am I a Christian? The only words that come are: “It just doesn’t matter.” I am me. I love God. And I’m okay with that answer.

I’m pretty sure God’s okay with it too.

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Filed under about me, church, faith, freedom, judgement, learning, life

November 9, 2011 · 6:00 AM

Megachurch Myths


We recently started going back to church after another year-long hiatus.

I really love our church.

I say that with emphasis in part because I just honestly love it that much, and also because it is a first for me.  Having gone to church nearly every Sunday for my entire life, I never went to a church that I genuinely looked forward to.  Never went to a church that I felt excited about.  Never went to a church that I felt compelled to share with others.  Yes, there were specific people that I grew to love, and certain aspects that I enjoyed here and there… but I never truly loved a church until now (and if I’m being honest, there were churches in my past that I not only didn’t love, but that made me outright miserable)  Suffice it to say, my personal church history has made me very empathetic and understanding towards those who have sworn off church altogether.

The church we attend now is a huge church.  It has over 17,000 attendees over the course of its 5 weekend services.  It has a sprawling campus, separate children’s and teen buildings, a rocking worship band, a bookstore, a Starbucks, a cafe, an outdoor grill… all those things that for some reason make a lot of people really really uncomfortable.  Those things that make people come to a snap judgment in their head, and offer up a categorical, “Oh it’s one of those churches.”  We haven’t brought anyone to church with us recently, but we have in the past.  And with a few exceptions, their reactions were undeniably (and strongly) negative.  Which is weird, now that I’m thinking about it, because it would never occur to me to go someone else’s church as a guest, and follow it up with anything other than a “thank you for the invitation,” let alone a critique.

A think a large part of the problem is that in many cases, people make their minds up before they even step out of the car, based on preconceived notions and often times misconceptions.   We all hold these prejudices about certain things, and these so-called “megachurches” like the one we attend are seemingly high on a lot of people’s lists.   They’re judged sight-unseen because they’re …. too big.  Or too impersonal.  Or too irreverent.  Or too much like a cult.  Or something.  And if you go into a church – or into any new situation or circumstance – already having pre-judged it, it’s going to live up to your expectations for better or worse, every time.

The following are some of the biggest misconceptions or myths about megachurches that I hear the most often, along with my responses.  I’m just asking that you keep an open mind, and if you should ever find yourself a guest of a friend or a family member at one of these churches that you enjoy it for the unique experience that it is.  Remember that they have chosen to call that church home for a reason, and that they’ve chosen to invite you for a reason too (and it’s really not to bring you over to the dark side.)

1.  They are impersonal.  

How can you possibly make personal connections in a church with literally tens of thousands of members?  You show up.  You talk to people.  You join small groups.  You volunteer.  You get involved.  Even just taking the kids to their classes every week, we are starting to see the same faces, and get the same familiar greetings.  The pastor is outside the auditorium every Sunday before every service, greeting members, talking to people, throwing a football with a child, just like you’ll often see happen at a smaller church.  Is it possible to remain completely anonymous, go to services, and go home without having talked to a single soul?  Sure (although you’d admittedly have to be pretty rude and ignore the half dozen people that say good morning to you on the way from your car to the auditorium).  But it’s a choice that you are making.  It’s not the fault of the church!  And it shouldn’t go without saying:  I have attended small churches, with maybe 30 members, and have been utterly ignored.  Yes, I could have initiated conversation, but when you’re a 20-something newlywed in a mostly older congregation, it is far more hurtful and uncomfortable to feel rejected by 30 people than it is to be an anonymous member of a church of 1,000’s, where at the very least you can count on an honest and friendly “good morning,” or “good to see you” on your way inside.

2.  They are irreverent.

I went to another church once where was there a huge knock-down, drag-out (not literally) over whether or not it was okay to bring tables into the room that was used for worship, so that it could also be used for pot lucks.   People got so upset about it, they left the congregation.  The issue?  Some people felt it was irreverent to eat in a room that should be reserved for nothing but honoring God.  But here’s the thing.  It’s just a building.  That’s true if it seats 10 or 10,000.   God just wants us to come to him.  He doesn’t care if we do it from a small church or a large church or a mountain top.  He doesn’t care if we’re dressed in jeans or flip flops or our “Sunday best.”  He doesn’t care care if we drink our overpriced Starbucks coffees while we listen to the sermon.  He just cares that we showed up.

Having said all of that… The rock-style praise music that you hear at the start of the service (one of the biggest things that makes people nervous, along with the fact that people sometimes bring their coffee into the auditorium) gradually gives way to slower, more reflective songs.  When it’s time for communion – which undeniably IS a time for reverence – the room is quiet, the mood is appropriately contemplative, and everyone is able to partake in the manner that he or she finds most in line with their own personal interpretation of scripture.

3.  They are all flash and no substance /  They focus too much on entertainment

This is an odd one to me.  Yes, I enjoy the music during the first third of the service.  Yes, it’s nice that they turn it into a whole “experience” with the lights and the instruments and the video screens.  They have talented musicians leading the singing, and they always choose great songs with meaningful lyrics.  I appreciate it.  I appreciate that I’m almost always guaranteed to laugh at least once during each sermon.  I also appreciate the pretty grounds, and the big expanse of lawn where all the kids play between services, and the giant cross at the top of the hill.  But that’s not why I go.  I go because I know I’m going to be challenged each week, every week.  I know I’m going to hear a lesson that’s based not on one man’s opinion, or on tradition, but on the Bible.  I know that I’m going to learn a little bit more about what it truly means to “walk the walk,” and I know that I’m going to be given a practical and applicable “take away”  that’s real and relevant in my own life, right now.

Similarly,

4.  They preach a watered-down, “feel good” gospel.

First, the Bible is above all else, GOOD news.  If you’re going to a church that has neglected to mention that fact, then I think you’re going to the wrong church.  I’m sorry, but I do.  It IS good news.  It’s inspiring.  It’s joyful.  It’s filled with grace.  But that doesn’t in any way mean that all that’s taught is airy-fairy, feel-good, watered-down, spoon-fed nuggets of fluff.   In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been as challenged to grow as a Christian as I’ve been since we’ve started attending this church (and granted, that may have more to do with where I am in my own personal walk.  But still)  Our pastor never shies away from saying the hard things.  Never neglects to give us the whole truth.  NEVER fails to make me think, and think hard, about why I believe what I believe, and whether or not what I’ve always thought to be true is actually biblical.   It even sometimes makes me uncomfortable, in the best way, because that’s how you grow.  He preaches what we need to hear, not necessarily what we always want to hear.  Last Sunday, the lesson was on materialism, one that cut incredibly close to my core.  We’ve been worshiping money (albeit in a weird, opposite of materialism kind of way)  and it’s wrong.  I don’t know that I would have fully grasped how and why it’s wrong if I hadn’t heard that particular lesson on that particular day.  And while it would always be nice to live in a carefree la-la land where I can get all worked up over money all I want, I’m now facing it.  Precisely because my church does NOT preach a watered-down, feel-good gospel.

And speaking of money,

5.  They cost too much money to operate / They must carry a lot of debt / They are wasteful of God’s resources.

I’ll admit, this one really, really bothers me.  For many reasons.  For one thing, the pastor of our church never set out to create this huge Super Church.  That wasn’t his goal.  He was simply heeding a personal call to evangelize.  When he started this church in 1982, it met in a movie theater.  As it naturally and organically grew, and they needed more and more seats, they began meeting in an elementary school, and subsequently rented other buildings until they were finally able to secure their own land and build their own building.   As the church continues to grow, any time a need arises for new space or new buildings, the members all contribute their funds to make it happen.  When we first started going, they were taking donations for the children’s building that our three youngest so enjoy every week.   In fact we all got to write on the floor before the carpet was laid, as a dedication (which was pretty stinkin cool)    The church is growing and expanding so much that they now have two campuses, and have helped start 11 other various churches as well.

When you consider that as Christians we’re supposed to be winning people for Christ, I have a hard time viewing it as anything but a GOOD thing that this church has grown to the size that it has.  Churches are supposed to grow!!  People are supposed to be getting out into their communities and ministering to people in need.   People are supposed to be inviting their friends and family to church with them.  I personally wonder more about the churches that don’t grow.  The ones that struggle just to maintain their current membership year after year.

Oh, but the money!!  The electricity, the lights, the water, the paper!  Oh the waste!  That money could be ministering to needy people in other countries. 

Well, yeah, it could.  And while I can’t speak for other churches of this size, the church that we attend is actually quite heavily involved in overseas missions.  But the fact remains that this church is ministering to tens of thousands of people RIGHT HERE, who are then going out in to the community and ministering to tens of thousands more.  That is no small thing!!  Does it cost money to do it?  Of course!  And there are lots of people willing to step up and share that burden (or blessing, as the case may be)

6.  They are churches of “convenience.”

The first time I heard this, it was in reference to the fact that there were 5 identical weekend services (although at the time there might have been only 4) But I’ve heard it in other ways too:  The fact that you can go to the cafe and eat your lunch while you listen to the sermon on the big screen.  The fact that the outdoor grill seating area has the Sunday morning ball games playing on its many TVs.  The fact that you can sit in your PJs from the comfort of your home, and watch the video version of any sermon you happened to miss.   In essence, we’re back to the spoon-fed, no-effort-on-your-part assertions from #4.  Here’s my problem with that:   If you’re going to minister to 17,000 people, you’re going to need to schedule different times to fit them all in.  That’s not a matter of “convenience” but of practicality.  Having two services on Saturday and three on Sunday gives people options, and allows them the best possible chance to get the most people to church to hear that week’s message (which, after all, should be the whole point, shouldn’t it?)  As for eating in the cafe, and watching the service … well, as I said earlier, I really don’t believe God cares if we’re eating while we’re worshiping him.   I actually happen to think God likes it when we’re always worshiping him… whether we’re eating or showering or paying the bills.  The sports thing is a non-issue for me.  I don’t watch sports.  But I think it’s pretty darn cool for the people who do.  I see it as nothing more than another chance to hang out with other believers, bonding over a common interest while you eat your freshly grilled frankfurter.   And the video sermon at home?  How awesome is it that in this day and age we have that option when we have to miss a sermon?!    That’s not being spoon-fed.  That’s using the technology given to us by God to further study his Word.

* * * * * * * * * *

When the Bible was written, some 3,000 years ago, there weren’t 7 billion people on the earth.  There was no internet.  No electricity, no running water, no sound systems, no video recording capabilities.  There were no cafes, no Starbucks, and no bookstores.  In other words, there is no sound biblical reason to support the flogging of a church simply because it employs any or all of the above.   The Bible is silent on the specifics of modern-day worship facilities, because there was no practical need (or resources) for their existence.  What is the Bible NOT silent on?  Love.  Joy.  Peace.  Patience.  Kindness.  Goodness.  Faithfulness.  Gentleness.  Self-control.   There are no perfect churches…. not big ones, and not small ones.  But if your church is preaching – and more importantly, LIVING – these nine things, it’s on the right track, whether it has 17 members or 17,000.

 

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Filed under about me, church, faith, misconceptions, religion, spirituality

August 29, 2011 · 6:00 AM

Kind People in Red Shirts

We recently started going back to church, after many many logical, sensible, well-thought-out reasons excuses kept us away for many months. I really love this church. And I’ve realized that it’s not because of the great music or the pretty campus or even the inspiring messages. It’s not because I leave feeling all warm and fuzzy every Sunday. All that is nice and everything, but it’s really of little importance how it makes me feel. The reason I love it is that it’s full of people who, by and large, are committed to going out and BEING the church… people who are kind and giving and have servant hearts. Not just on Sundays, not just because they feel like they have to, but because they want to.

This past Saturday, we joined a group of other members from our neighborhood for a service project. Our assignment was to clean out a large planter at the local elementary school, to get it ready for a future sustainable work of art. The kids were very excited to be able to do their part to help, and all six of us were warmly welcomed by the group (none of whom we’d met before) when we got started.

Ironically, shortly into our morning of service, we were the ones getting served. We’d only been there for around half and hour when Spencer misjudged a step, lost his footing and fell from the side of the planter, scraping his legs in the process. At first he answered with a quick affirmative to all the concerned “Are you okay?”s, but eventually accepted an offer to at least sit and get some cool water on his scrapes. As the adrenaline – and the 100+ degree heat – started catching up with him, he grew paler and paler.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, which garnered the attention of another kind samaritan from the group. He took one look at Spencer’s face, which was still losing color, and said we needed to get him inside under some air conditioning. He helped us inside the school, holding cold bottled water against his neck. (He explained as we went that holding it on the carotid artery would cool the body. Later on, Spencer told me that he enjoyed that bit of information, as he is very familiar with the term from watching all his medical shows)

He stood and chatted with us inside the school’s office, while Spencer sipped cold water and tried to cool off. He was starting to look a little green, and finally admitted he was feeling nauseous and light-headed. Our rescuer disappeared then, and returned about 30 seconds later with a big dripping wet something that he draped around Spencer’s head and neck (which helped almost instantly.) The man had literally taken the shirt off his back and soaked it in cold water to come to the aid of an overheated kid he’d just met. And all I could do was say thank you.

Thank you kind man for making sure my son did not pass out. Thank you half a dozen people who asked, more than once, if he was feeling better.

Thank you for the friendly conversation, and for treating our kids like the interesting, unique people that they are.

Thank you stranger who let my 3 and 7 year old help paint the Arizona map, and made them feel special and important, and didn’t once complain about drips or unevenness.

Thank you red shirted people, for welcoming us into your fold, helping us serve the community, and helping each other serve US. Thank you for your unexpected ability, in the short span of two hours, to completely restore my faith in humanity.

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February 20, 2011 · 8:37 PM

Thou Shalt Not Do Yoga

I have a long, complicated history with church. I think the last time I blogged about church, I was at something of a crossroad. We were not going to church regularly, I had concerns about judgment and hypocrisy, and I felt my spiritual life was healthier outside of a church atmosphere.

Now, seven months later, I’m at something of a crossroad.  We are not going to church regularly, I have concerns about judgment and hypocrisy, and I feel my spiritual life is healthier outside of a church atmosphere. 

However.

I don’t want to ever say “never.”  I want to stay open, and listen, and go in whatever direction it is that we’re called to go…. whatever that may mean.

The yoga teacher training I’m going to take is through a Christian yoga program.  I have gone back and forth on this so many times that I’ve lost count.  I want to do it, I don’t want to do it, I want to go through a secular school, I don’t want to go through a secular school, I want to do it, I don’t want to do it.  It’s exhausting.   What I’ve realized though is that no matter how many times I talk myself out of it, for whatever reason, it keeps. coming. back.  I cannot make it go away.  It has been placed on my heart so strongly that I just can’t ignore it, and I don’t want to ignore it.  It’s clearly something I’ve been called to do.  I share that both to demonstrate what my faith means to me, and to give some background as to one of the reasons I’d have such a bias against the ad we recently received for a local church here.

The ad says:

Strobe Lights….. NO
Disco Balls….. NO
Fog Machines…. NO
Choreographed Praise Dancers….. NO
Canned Sermons….. NO
Yoga Classes….. NO
Plastic People….. NO


SPIRIT…. YES
TRUTH…. YES

I understand what the ad was trying to convey.  I do.  They’re proud of the fact that they strip away all the other “stuff”, and concentrate on the simplicity and on the truth.  In theory, I agree with that.  I personally feel closest to God in the middle of the desert, or a mountain, or the woods…. with no walls or pews or Bibles or ministers (or any people, for that matter) in sight.  So I can relate to the sentiment.  
But…
By bringing attention to the very things they want to avoid, they’re making them more important than they need to be, which seems to be the opposite of their intention.  Using those things as a reason to go to their church as opposed to a church that does have yoga classes or praise dancers or strobe lights feels like a negative campaign to me (and is one of the huge reasons that I have little tolerance for political ads)  It’s implying that there’s something inherently wrong with all those things, and I just don’t think there is.  Who’s to say what’s right or wrong when it comes to someone else’s spiritual path?  What if someone DOES happen to like strobe lights or disco balls, yoga classes or bongo drums?  What if those things help bring them closer to God, or help them reflect, or help them worship?  And wouldn’t a church that is specifically advertising as not having certain things only serve to alienate people… people who might otherwise be looking for a church and want to attend?  

There is so much division among religions of the world.  SO MUCH division.  And we’re not making it any better.  We’re even creating division among Christian churches, churches which all claim to be worshiping the same God.   I’ve been to churches that had major conflicts (ie:  people getting so offended that they were leaving the congregation) over things like replacing the pews with chairs,  getting rid of song books and putting the words on an overhead projector, having pot luck dinners in rooms other than the designated “fellowship hall.”   These things don’t matter. Preferences over lights and praise dancers and yoga classes don’t matter.  

A few weeks ago, this photo of Christians holding hands and forming a protective ring around praying Muslims in Egypt was going around Facebook.  That’s what life should be about.  It should be about coming together, not finding more reasons to get further apart.  It should be about helping one another and loving one another and accepting one another, regardless of where or how or whom one chooses to worship.  It should be about finding the common thread, instead of looking for the different one.

It should not be about splitting hairs over inconsequential things that at the end of the day just. don’t. matter.  

I don’t know what the future holds as far as my family and church.  I really don’t.  What I do know is that if I’m ever taking a yoga class with plastic people and choreographed praised dancers, while listening to a canned sermon, under the glow of strobe lights, the brightness of disco balls, and the haze of fog machines… that the God that I know and love will be there with me.

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July 6, 2010 · 8:03 AM

Condemnation

Every religion on the planet, and there are so many more than you are even aware of, has the potential of absolute thriving. But when you think that you must prove that you have the only one that is right—and you use your condemnation to push against the others—your condemnation separates you from your own connection that, before your condemnation, you were finding in your own religion.

Several years ago, sometime during that mired haze between having one child and having four, we stopped attending church. Though there was plenty of turmoil in the church we went to at the time, we didn’t leave because of the drama, hadn’t engaged in any fight. We didn’t leave in a huff, and we didn’t leave to prove a point to anyone. We left quietly… simply stopped going, as much to move toward a better relationship with God, as to move away from a unhealthy environment. No one asked us why we left (they seemed to prefer to come to their own conclusions) and we never really offered up an explanation.

Though there were a few reasons, this quote reminds me of perhaps the strongest one.

Mike and I both grew up in churches that were very… set in their ways, to put it kindly. Intolerant, to be a little more blunt. This was a church that believed its way was the only way, that any deviation large or small would not only be incorrect, but be sinful. I’m not proud to admit it, but I was one of the worst ones! I remember when one family left to attend a different church. It was the family of a good friend of mine, and while I of course missed my friend, I was also terribly curious as to where they landed once they left. When they were inevitably gossiped about – in that hushed, whispered, let’s pray for their souls kind of way – I found out. They were attending a Methodist church. ! Oh the scandal! As ludicrous as seems now, I was flabbergasted. How could they do that, when they knew the truth? What were they thinking? Didn’t I know them at all?

Yes, all that judgment over another Christian denomination. Though most of the church treated them as though they’d “fallen away,” they hadn’t changed religions, didn’t start worshiping some other God, hadn’t given up their faith. Back then, it didn’t matter. Methodist, Buddhist, Muslim, Jewish, Atheist… I knew nothing about any of them, and I wasn’t allowed to ask questions. They were all lumped together. They were all WRONG.

It wasn’t until I left the church as an adult that I could look back on my teenage self and truly see how egregiously wrong I’d been. It made me feel sad that I’d joined my congregation in being so judgmental, and angry that I’d been taught to look at others through such a narrow, narrow view. It made me feel small.

It was then that I decided to learn, for the first time in my life, about other religions. So I did…. by myself, and for myself. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to change my religion (I never really liked the word “religion” anyway), as it was that I wanted to understand others. I wanted so badly to learn, appreciate, and yes, even EMBRACE different religions, and I knew I couldn’t do that while I was continuing to be taught at the school of “This is right, everyone else is wrong.” My quest turned out to be one of the most rewarding and liberating things I’d ever done. Even now, years later, I still site that break we took from church as one of the most influential periods in both my own personal faith, and in my acceptance of others.

I’d been going nowhere in my own spiritual walk, so focused I was on getting it “right” and condemning others who’d gotten it “wrong”. I needed to break free of that limitation, and leaving that church was the catalyst that did it.

A couple of years ago, we started attending church again. It was a huge, non-denominational Christian church, with a beautiful campus, a rocking band, and a joy-filled atmosphere. It was a lovely church. I still think it’s a lovely church, and a welcoming church, even though it’s been awhile since we’ve been there. We’d been attending for just a short time when we had the opportunity to take some friends and family as our guests on a few different occasions. While a few seemed to enjoy themselves, others were compelled to critique it.

~It was too big.

~It was not reverent enough.

~It was not personal enough.

~It was more like a concert than a church service

~It was wrong that people were sitting back and enjoying themselves rather than worshiping (which was the most ridiculous to me, because 1) you can’t open people up and see where their hearts are at, and what they’re getting out of a particular experience, and 2) whatever else a spiritual experience may be, shouldn’t it at least be enjoyable?)

The frustration I felt from these comments, and the attitude of judgment that came with them, was immense. “This judgment is why we stopped going to your church!,” I wanted to yell, but I didn’t. I let them say what they needed to say. And in time, we stopped going to the new church too… partly because we had a toddler who couldn’t sit through the service, and partly because the most recent of the negative comments had struck an (immensely irrational) fear in me. The ones with the strongest opinions were Christians. Is that what going to church does to you? If we got really immersed in a church again, would it happen to me too? Would I become judgmental and condemning as I once was?

What I realize now – finally – is that my negative feelings towards the church I grew up in (and my frustrations with some of the people who still go there) are no different than the judgments that I’d so carefully tried to avoid. Besides being entirely wasted and non-productive emotions, it is wrong. Their beliefs, their feelings, and their attitudes, are just that – THEIRS. And while I do fully believe that anyone who holds condemnation towards others is hindering his own journey, it does not have to hinder mine. In church or out of church, I can hold firm to my beliefs, which include loving and accepting people from ALL religions, or lack thereof, and recognizing and embracing the freedom that makes it all possible.

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October 7, 2008 · 6:52 AM

Church and Baseball

Paxton has been playing baseball for a month now, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him more excited about something. He loves everything about it – loves the game, loves the practices, loves getting into his gear. He’s happy. They’ve had one game so far, and he played both second and third base. He was proud of his successes, undeterred by his mistakes, and can’t wait for the next game. It was a big adjustment for the family for him to start the sport, since it meant saying goodbye to family dinners three nights a week, more juggling with Spencer and scouts, and an overall busier week. But I think we’d all have to admit it’s been well worth it.

In other news…

We’ve been going to a new church for a month now. I realize that going to church for four Sundays in a row is not remarkable, but it’s remarkable for *us*. I honestly can’t remember the last time we were going to church regularly as a family. I know it wasn’t in Everett’s lifetime, possibly not in Paxton’s either. Yeah, it’s been a long time. It’s always difficult to make a long story short – or at least readable – because it is a long story. We left the church we’d been attending because we were burnt out with intolerance, judgement, and hypocrisy. A lot of people view leaving a church as “falling away’, and I’m sure at times it is. But we left church to FIND God, not walk away from Him. Our faith was strengthened over the last several years. It was a process, and like everything else in life, a journey. That journey eventually led us to Phoenix. While we tried various churches over the last few years, we never found the “one”, and the timing was never right. So we waited. And then a month ago, we tried Christ’s Church of the Valley.

Mike and I loved it from the first day we visited. But since this was to be a family decision, our feelings were just a small part of the equation. The kids had to love it too. And love it they did! They can’t wait to go back every week. *I* can’t wait to go back either, and despite having grown up going to church (or maybe because of it), I don’t think I’ve felt that way about a church ever. I think people should be excited to go to church. I think they should go because they want to, not because it’s what they think they’re supposed to do. After our last negative experiences with church, I always said I’d only go back when 1) it was the right church and 2) it was for the right reasons. It only took 34 years.

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