Doubt has gotten a bad rap. In more than fifty years of personal Christian faith lived in community, the last fifteen of them as a Protestant minister I have witnessed doubt treated derogatorily, even with contempt, as if it were only a step removed from the Devil, temptation, and all things threatening to faith. If you had doubt you had not faith. If you had faith you had not doubt.
This I find to be at odds with my own experience, which is that I have a faith which I endeavor to reconcile with experiences which give pause, introduce questions, and leave me with doubts which often can not be entirely banished so long as I have the intellectual integrity to acknowledge the validity and persistence of the experiences and observations which contribute to doubt.
That I doubt does not mean that I do not have faith; My doubt is a part of the fabric of my faith. Looking back on my experience, doubt has often represented a leading edge for spiritual growth. It was as if doubt represented the irritant which eventually produced treasure.
Doubt can be a component which spurs the one who doubts to dig further. Some who doubt refuse to be satisfied with repeating, unconsidered, patterns which have become familiar.
This sort of doubt would seem a precious commodity in the midst of a landscape littered with churches which lack vitality-giving purpose apart from the relative spiritual poverty of taking care of their own insular community, keeping the doors open so that relationship may be initiated largely by those outside coming in. These isolated churches, and perhaps all churches to some degree, need to break free of patterns which fail to doubt the status quo.
To these communities of faith the acknowledgment of doubt may well be a gift which invites the community and it’s individuals to ask afresh how God’s purposes can be served here and now by personal participation.
We must consider with openness our listening, prayers, discernment, daily practices, our willingness to be formed and reformed. The more common tendency may be to question God, presuming our own parts to be well-executed.
Unacknowledged, doubt is denied a place in wider considerations of faith, and perhaps more tragically, some, including persons who face particularly challenging seasons in life, find far too little accommodation of their spiritual need for an accepting community which acknowledges without stigma the very real experiences of doubt such persons face.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
Unconditionally Loving?!
My parents modeled a friendly outlook, and that impressed me as a worthwhile energy to put forth in the world. I mean really, wouldn’t we all like to be received as being of value and worth?! Sure beats being met with indifference! Sadly, it is my impression that indifference is becoming more the norm in dealing with those we don’t know.
I used to run a lot, somewhere between thirty and fifty miles a week from the late 1970’s into the middle 80’s, until tennis diverted me from steady mileage. In those days eye contact was a given, particularly between runners. It seemed a very rare thing not to get at least momentary acknowledgement of shared space, shared endeavor. As I passed pedestrians going my way I gave a wave (partly because my nearly-blind grandmother had shared how disorienting it was to get passed quickly). I usually did something of that nature while approaching walkers reversing my course. I may have noticed a difference when Sony came out with the Walkman. Some runners put a greater proportion of their consciousness in a different place.
This has not improved with time! It’s become more widespread: iPods, bluetooth ear-pieces, cell phone conversations in all sorts of public places, phones attached to the ears of people who take offense that someone would actually listen to the words they are putting out there at easily audible levels.
Several times in recent weeks Coco and I startled people who were walking and texting, apparently expecting the seas of people in front of them to part in deference to their focus on other things. I swear, I’ve stared and looked for a chance to break into attention to work out directional signals for as many as thirty feet without an opening.
I get a similar feeling when crossing driveways while drivers on cell-phones wait for Coco and I to pass (or sometimes, don’t wait), like we don’t have time for people who move on feet any more, like we think life can be lived with a minimum of interactions. Seems to me a regrettable waste of opportunities at hand.
I miss polite acknowledgment. I’m not looking to make time. I’m just trying to live fully into each particular moment of God’s creation, and celebrating the creatures with whose paths I am crossing. I’m probably a little lonely at this moment in my journey, and that makes me more sensitive about this phenomenon.
I went to church a couple of weeks ago and found a greeter who had other things to do. Her grandson was with her, and at the moment of her interaction with me she seemed to be thinking more of what in the U.M. Church we’ve been calling Safe Sanctuaries than with greeting this stranger in front of her. I understood to some extent, we send multiple messages: be friendly, protect the children, but I was a little disappointed to not even be offered a bulletin.
A week or so later I went to another church and asked them if I might use their parking lot for about an hour early on weekday mornings. She told me I could, if I payed them ninety-five dollars a semester-- ‘after all, it wouldn’t be fair to charge the other students and not charge you’. I told the secretary I understood: “you see I am a pastor, I know it gets complicated.” To that she said, “You know if you were to attend this church, then we’d give you a pass!”
I remember in one of the last churches I served, we learned that a growing church needed a place to hold services on Sundays, and that they also could use our space for a weeknight program. A retired pastor in the congregation who’d served in Indiana said he didn’t think we should consider taking them in because there would be more wear and tear on the facility and we‘d have to schedule our activities in cooperation. The Finance Committee came up with a suggested fee which at the time looked to me like about half of our monthly budget. I wanted this other church near because I was greatly touched by their earnestness and fire, and frankly I was a bit disappointed in my existing congregation’s urgency about living faith. We finally did host the second church for a more modest fee, but deep down I wished we’d have had more heart for grace, for seeing the situation less for what was in it for us, and more because the one we follow gave abundantly. Weren’t the least among us featured prominently in Jesus’ teachings? Isn’t hospitality a foundational element in both Judaism and Christianity? The Jewish, Muslim and Christian folks I’ve met in the Middle East blew me away with their hospitality.
But in churches I’ve met some folks who suggested they were not gifted for hospitality. Really, I couldn’t believe I’d heard it either! That sounds more like a faith which is puffed up than a faith built upon humility. An individual voicing such a thing doesn’t sound like a candidate for leadership as much as someone you bring along so they can continue growth.
Can anyone who is discovering how truly wondrous a gift they themselves have received feel indifferent to extending love and hospitality?! Can they really be conditional in spreading love?
I used to run a lot, somewhere between thirty and fifty miles a week from the late 1970’s into the middle 80’s, until tennis diverted me from steady mileage. In those days eye contact was a given, particularly between runners. It seemed a very rare thing not to get at least momentary acknowledgement of shared space, shared endeavor. As I passed pedestrians going my way I gave a wave (partly because my nearly-blind grandmother had shared how disorienting it was to get passed quickly). I usually did something of that nature while approaching walkers reversing my course. I may have noticed a difference when Sony came out with the Walkman. Some runners put a greater proportion of their consciousness in a different place.
This has not improved with time! It’s become more widespread: iPods, bluetooth ear-pieces, cell phone conversations in all sorts of public places, phones attached to the ears of people who take offense that someone would actually listen to the words they are putting out there at easily audible levels.
Several times in recent weeks Coco and I startled people who were walking and texting, apparently expecting the seas of people in front of them to part in deference to their focus on other things. I swear, I’ve stared and looked for a chance to break into attention to work out directional signals for as many as thirty feet without an opening.
I get a similar feeling when crossing driveways while drivers on cell-phones wait for Coco and I to pass (or sometimes, don’t wait), like we don’t have time for people who move on feet any more, like we think life can be lived with a minimum of interactions. Seems to me a regrettable waste of opportunities at hand.
I miss polite acknowledgment. I’m not looking to make time. I’m just trying to live fully into each particular moment of God’s creation, and celebrating the creatures with whose paths I am crossing. I’m probably a little lonely at this moment in my journey, and that makes me more sensitive about this phenomenon.
I went to church a couple of weeks ago and found a greeter who had other things to do. Her grandson was with her, and at the moment of her interaction with me she seemed to be thinking more of what in the U.M. Church we’ve been calling Safe Sanctuaries than with greeting this stranger in front of her. I understood to some extent, we send multiple messages: be friendly, protect the children, but I was a little disappointed to not even be offered a bulletin.
A week or so later I went to another church and asked them if I might use their parking lot for about an hour early on weekday mornings. She told me I could, if I payed them ninety-five dollars a semester-- ‘after all, it wouldn’t be fair to charge the other students and not charge you’. I told the secretary I understood: “you see I am a pastor, I know it gets complicated.” To that she said, “You know if you were to attend this church, then we’d give you a pass!”
I remember in one of the last churches I served, we learned that a growing church needed a place to hold services on Sundays, and that they also could use our space for a weeknight program. A retired pastor in the congregation who’d served in Indiana said he didn’t think we should consider taking them in because there would be more wear and tear on the facility and we‘d have to schedule our activities in cooperation. The Finance Committee came up with a suggested fee which at the time looked to me like about half of our monthly budget. I wanted this other church near because I was greatly touched by their earnestness and fire, and frankly I was a bit disappointed in my existing congregation’s urgency about living faith. We finally did host the second church for a more modest fee, but deep down I wished we’d have had more heart for grace, for seeing the situation less for what was in it for us, and more because the one we follow gave abundantly. Weren’t the least among us featured prominently in Jesus’ teachings? Isn’t hospitality a foundational element in both Judaism and Christianity? The Jewish, Muslim and Christian folks I’ve met in the Middle East blew me away with their hospitality.
But in churches I’ve met some folks who suggested they were not gifted for hospitality. Really, I couldn’t believe I’d heard it either! That sounds more like a faith which is puffed up than a faith built upon humility. An individual voicing such a thing doesn’t sound like a candidate for leadership as much as someone you bring along so they can continue growth.
Can anyone who is discovering how truly wondrous a gift they themselves have received feel indifferent to extending love and hospitality?! Can they really be conditional in spreading love?
Sunday, September 20, 2009
The Rapture
I walk through about one hundred and fifty yards of commuter parking on my way to the gym. One day I noticed a bumper sticker which I particularly liked: “Come the Rapture, can I have your car?”
I’m not a person who puts stickers on cars, but I do survey them a bit, and mostly I am disappointed. Whether political or not, on the main they tend toward simple declarations, and I have a soft spot for the ones which say more and get me thinking.
I’m pretty sure that Rapture bumper sticker was spawned by another sticker which I’ve seen a lot more often: “Warning: when the Rapture comes this car will be unoccupied.”
When I see that one I feel an impulse to motion that person over and give ‘em a hug. It doesn’t sound like they’re finding much joy in the here and now of faith. Sounds more like they’re looking forward to being liberated, at last having their exalted status recognized in horror by all those folks who went on having a good time. I’m not totally dismissing the possibility of the occasional reader who will see that bumper sticker and think something along the lines of ‘that person knows something I want to know’, but it seems more likely that the reader will begin to form an impression of a faith that exults at the hope of being vindicated, a resolution with winners and losers, rather than a faith where the first shall be last and the humble lifted up.
I fear there is a thread of Christian community which wishes to find justification for exercising a good old-fashioned smote. You know, hell fire, total destruction as a definitive rebuke. We have a societal remnant of that in the death penalty: you are so bad we’re going to end your life. But hear this: we don’t think ending a life is right, unless it is the ultimate statement of societal disapproval. Don’t do this at home. But I digress...
Unconditional love, grace, compassion, mercy, these are counter-cultural words at the center of understanding God’s love for us. These are practices which must be embodied by followers if we are to fully live faith, and pass on faith rather than cultural bias. Unconditional love, grace, compassion and mercy must be practiced as counter-balances to any of our opposing impulses.
Formation in God’s methods is foundational those who seek to follow the will and way of God. Ours is not a faith which calls us to be ready to act faithfully at some future moment, not after we have prevailed, but rather to employ faith qualities and practices as a means to witness whose we are, in the midst of all moments; when we do this beautifully it is very persuasive.
And it just might become a faith which never wants to operate a car without filling the car’s seats with new friends.
I’m not a person who puts stickers on cars, but I do survey them a bit, and mostly I am disappointed. Whether political or not, on the main they tend toward simple declarations, and I have a soft spot for the ones which say more and get me thinking.
I’m pretty sure that Rapture bumper sticker was spawned by another sticker which I’ve seen a lot more often: “Warning: when the Rapture comes this car will be unoccupied.”
When I see that one I feel an impulse to motion that person over and give ‘em a hug. It doesn’t sound like they’re finding much joy in the here and now of faith. Sounds more like they’re looking forward to being liberated, at last having their exalted status recognized in horror by all those folks who went on having a good time. I’m not totally dismissing the possibility of the occasional reader who will see that bumper sticker and think something along the lines of ‘that person knows something I want to know’, but it seems more likely that the reader will begin to form an impression of a faith that exults at the hope of being vindicated, a resolution with winners and losers, rather than a faith where the first shall be last and the humble lifted up.
I fear there is a thread of Christian community which wishes to find justification for exercising a good old-fashioned smote. You know, hell fire, total destruction as a definitive rebuke. We have a societal remnant of that in the death penalty: you are so bad we’re going to end your life. But hear this: we don’t think ending a life is right, unless it is the ultimate statement of societal disapproval. Don’t do this at home. But I digress...
Unconditional love, grace, compassion, mercy, these are counter-cultural words at the center of understanding God’s love for us. These are practices which must be embodied by followers if we are to fully live faith, and pass on faith rather than cultural bias. Unconditional love, grace, compassion and mercy must be practiced as counter-balances to any of our opposing impulses.
Formation in God’s methods is foundational those who seek to follow the will and way of God. Ours is not a faith which calls us to be ready to act faithfully at some future moment, not after we have prevailed, but rather to employ faith qualities and practices as a means to witness whose we are, in the midst of all moments; when we do this beautifully it is very persuasive.
And it just might become a faith which never wants to operate a car without filling the car’s seats with new friends.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Middle-Class Morality
I’ve been away from church responsibilities now for two months. I'm taking in new things in a new place.
The K.S.U. campus community is diverse, it may even be more apparent in summer when some who have traveled furthest to participate remain. My dog, Coco, and I have retrieved balls for international students playing cricket, we’ve exchanged greetings and nods with all sorts of people, we’ve visited university staff members during breaks from their preparations of the campus for another year.
One day a few weeks ago a line from a movie came to mind, it’s from G.B. Shaw’s Pygmalion (and it’s more recent adaptation, My Fair Lady). Shaw has written them as the words of Alfred P. Doolittle, a man bewildered by a change in his fortunes:
“Who asked him to make a gentleman out of me? I was happy. I was free. I touched pretty nigh everyone for money when I wanted it, same as I touched him. Now, I'm tied neck and heels, and everybody touches me. A year ago, I hadn't a relation in the world except one or two who wouldn't speak to me. Now, I've fifty, and not a decent week's wages amongst the lot of 'em. Oh, I have to live for others now, not for myself. Middle-class morality.” (quotation courtesy IMDb)
‘Middle-class morality’, Alfred’s concluding words, the phrase has been sticking with me. I’ve been wondering just how much of what we present as faith is really middle-class morality, more a reflection of our place in local culture than our place in God’s wider community.
There are targets which for me which are easy: preferences for church music and church decor, much of what is familiar in the particular sanctuary experience with which we have become most familiar. I suspect we compromise the broad invitation issued by Christ, by inserting the particular specifics which have become comforting to us.
Here in Kent I’ve found another interesting place to watch people. As I’ve watched others I’ve been thinking about faith in God, and the possibility that my own conceptions of middle-class morality may unduly influence understandings of what it is to seek to walk with God. Wondering to what degree perceptions then affect what I as an individual disciple invite others to.
God gave us something simple to do: to love God and others. Yet to invest in God’s purpose and method of love is humbling. It seems against human nature to be humble; we want credit for being humble, perhaps even to have others notice how well we do humble, introducing a destructive compromise at a fundamental level. There is virtue in the practice of humility. The humble withdraw from outsized self-importance to see themselves in context of interrelatedness and interdependence. But the realization is only apparent to those who draw close to humility.
Humbly serving God, recognizing the ‘other’ as God’s receptacle for love right before us, broadcasting love is our central task. The task of establishing a local ‘footprint’ of outward-radiating love should take a higher priority than perpetuating local church practice, in many instances our form of middle-class morality.
I’m suggesting there are unintended layers we followers attach to following.
Jesus distilled the commandments to two: loving God with all one’s heart, soul, mind and strength; and loving neighbor as self (Mk. 12:29-31). The charge is both simple, and in the idealistic practice of love, totally consuming, as is the nature of the whole of faith. We are to be people who are known by love, who set the stage through loving acts for still others to find abundant discovery and growth in God’s unconditional love. We may believe that others prevail by taking advantage of love, but better that should happen than we become proponents of methods that are not of God, and in so doing, compromise the message of the One we represent.
Should we expect others to experience God as we do? How can we introduce them to a path which reflects God’s love above all else? Must they be effectively ‘circumcised’ into our conventions and practice?
How much of our current practice is about providing comfort to our selves, how much to expanding the circle and loving?
The K.S.U. campus community is diverse, it may even be more apparent in summer when some who have traveled furthest to participate remain. My dog, Coco, and I have retrieved balls for international students playing cricket, we’ve exchanged greetings and nods with all sorts of people, we’ve visited university staff members during breaks from their preparations of the campus for another year.
One day a few weeks ago a line from a movie came to mind, it’s from G.B. Shaw’s Pygmalion (and it’s more recent adaptation, My Fair Lady). Shaw has written them as the words of Alfred P. Doolittle, a man bewildered by a change in his fortunes:
“Who asked him to make a gentleman out of me? I was happy. I was free. I touched pretty nigh everyone for money when I wanted it, same as I touched him. Now, I'm tied neck and heels, and everybody touches me. A year ago, I hadn't a relation in the world except one or two who wouldn't speak to me. Now, I've fifty, and not a decent week's wages amongst the lot of 'em. Oh, I have to live for others now, not for myself. Middle-class morality.” (quotation courtesy IMDb)
‘Middle-class morality’, Alfred’s concluding words, the phrase has been sticking with me. I’ve been wondering just how much of what we present as faith is really middle-class morality, more a reflection of our place in local culture than our place in God’s wider community.
There are targets which for me which are easy: preferences for church music and church decor, much of what is familiar in the particular sanctuary experience with which we have become most familiar. I suspect we compromise the broad invitation issued by Christ, by inserting the particular specifics which have become comforting to us.
Here in Kent I’ve found another interesting place to watch people. As I’ve watched others I’ve been thinking about faith in God, and the possibility that my own conceptions of middle-class morality may unduly influence understandings of what it is to seek to walk with God. Wondering to what degree perceptions then affect what I as an individual disciple invite others to.
God gave us something simple to do: to love God and others. Yet to invest in God’s purpose and method of love is humbling. It seems against human nature to be humble; we want credit for being humble, perhaps even to have others notice how well we do humble, introducing a destructive compromise at a fundamental level. There is virtue in the practice of humility. The humble withdraw from outsized self-importance to see themselves in context of interrelatedness and interdependence. But the realization is only apparent to those who draw close to humility.
Humbly serving God, recognizing the ‘other’ as God’s receptacle for love right before us, broadcasting love is our central task. The task of establishing a local ‘footprint’ of outward-radiating love should take a higher priority than perpetuating local church practice, in many instances our form of middle-class morality.
I’m suggesting there are unintended layers we followers attach to following.
Jesus distilled the commandments to two: loving God with all one’s heart, soul, mind and strength; and loving neighbor as self (Mk. 12:29-31). The charge is both simple, and in the idealistic practice of love, totally consuming, as is the nature of the whole of faith. We are to be people who are known by love, who set the stage through loving acts for still others to find abundant discovery and growth in God’s unconditional love. We may believe that others prevail by taking advantage of love, but better that should happen than we become proponents of methods that are not of God, and in so doing, compromise the message of the One we represent.
Should we expect others to experience God as we do? How can we introduce them to a path which reflects God’s love above all else? Must they be effectively ‘circumcised’ into our conventions and practice?
How much of our current practice is about providing comfort to our selves, how much to expanding the circle and loving?
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