When people find out I practice a contemplative life sometimes I get a dismissive look as if my practice is about keeping my eyes closed with no concern for what is happening in life. Yet living a contemplative life is truly about connecting in a very real way. I find is it like running barefoot.
Early one morning, as my radio turned on and I was half asleep listening to the news, a story come on about a runner who runs barefoot and how it is better for your body than running in shoes. I was pretty sleepy, but the gist of the story was that the bare foot moves and balances better than the foot in a shoe. The bare foot reacts to dangers in the path and helps the runner avoid them. Shoes can cause more damage to the foot and give the runner a false sense of security. And now there has been the creation of “barefoot shoes.”
This brought back thoughts of childhood and the process of toughening up our feet as summer began. We started each day by walking a few minutes barefoot on the hot cement. Just a bit every day and before we knew it we were running around the entire neighborhood barefoot even at 100 degrees. There was freedom and connectedness as we felt the grass under our feet and the sound of our feet pounding on the cement. Even to this day I prefer being barefoot no matter where I live, hot or cold climate. I love the feel of the ground under my feet, the sounds they make. There is a sacred feeling in that connection.
Going barefoot also means there is the danger of getting hurt. As kids, we really had to pay attention to where we were going. It took stepping on a nail to for me to learn that lesson. Isn’t that like life? We start out with abandon and then we get hurt causing us to rightly protect ourselves. Yet the danger is not to create so much padding we lose our connection to life. Life isn’t safe; at least that what I have come to understand. I have a choice: hole up safe and protected or go out into the adventure paying attention, being aware, not expecting safety, but trusting God. That is the contemplative life.
Moses at the burning bush was asked to take off his shoes. No insulation allowed on holy ground even if it seems like dangerous ground. God is saying, “Trust me, feel me from the very sole of your feet. I want you connected fully.” Often in hospice situations I’ve wanted to take my shoes off at the door. The level of grief, pain, joy and honoring in that room was truly holy and I instinctively wanted to be fully present. No safety allowed.
In the walk with God there are times when the call is to take off our shoes and really be vulnerable, trusting and aware. The contemplative practice is one in which we look for the holy ground everywhere and are willing to be barefoot. Even if it’s for a few moments.
Exercise
When was the last time you took off your shoes and enjoyed the feeling and potential danger of going barefoot? Where in your life is God calling you to become more connected to the Holy? Look at your shoes. What do they say about your journey? Spend some time walking barefoot, indoors or out, and pray as though you are on holy ground.
First, gentle readers, a confession: I’ve got a lot at stake in this whole church thing working out. I suspect that most of you do too. I begin by letting you know that this might be way off-base as I definitely have a pro-church bias. You’ve been warned. I also begin with a bit of clarification; in the title I mean “all churches doing ministry in the 21st century, in this time of movement out of Modernity and toward whatever is next.” To state the obvious: some churches are already postmodern and some are not. The clarification wouldn’t make a very good permalink.
So what is church? What’s the purpose? What are we doing and why do we do it?
In my own answer I’m indebted to teachers in the tradition of the Ecumenical Order and its contemporary offspring: Realistic Living and Profound Journey Dialog. This is a whole rabbit-hole, but I tell you this just to make clear that these ideas aren’t my own.
Church is people who are watching, waiting, and acting.
by Peter on Flickr
In the words of H. Richard Neibuhr, church are those sensitive and responsive people who are first to perceive God’s work in the world and first to respond. To me, this is beautiful imagery. I imagine millions of sensitive and responsive people, those who care, looking around, finding God at work, and joining in. Church folks are the “what’s next?” people. In my mind, all of us sensitive and responsive ones are pausing every once in a while, looking toward the horizon, testing the winds… to see if God is moving in a new way in our world.
Despite this lovely calling to pioneer God’s work in the world, the church isn’t doing so well. You don’t have to look very far to find various bloggers, authors, ministers, and public personae having a big conversation about how close to death the institutional church is in our time. I’m not interested in having that debate. It’s clear that church has changed, is changing, can anticipate additional changes. Because I believe in celebrating and being thankful for what is, I’m looking for the gifts in all this change.
Gift #1: Smallitude One of the biggest challenges facing the church is the commoditization of worship and community life. A couple of examples will give you a feel for what I’m getting at. I work at a church with an unabashedly progressive theology. Every summer, some of our families attend Vacation Bible School programs at other churches with very different dogma and cosmology. It’s something wholesome for the kids to do in the summer. A couple of years ago, I got an email right before Christmas from a family explaining that they would be attending Christmas eve services at a church closer to their home. Every church has candles and Silent Night, right? I’m not criticizing these families’ decisions, but I am pointing toward an idea that, for many people, church is something that fits or doesn’t fit the family’s needs and schedule, much like sports teams and music lessons. Folks shop around, and churches put their best foot forward to get in on the action. It’s consumerism and it seems so natural, so much ‘just the way things work,’ that we can’t see it.
We’re better when we’re smaller.
Last year, I got a birthday card with a cartoon of Jesus on the front, captioned ‘Jesus on Twitter.’ His little thought balloon said, “Twelve followers… Sweet!”
Smaller means more intimate, less pretentious. Smaller means more consensus and fewer committees. Sometimes smaller means more REAL.
Gift #2 Permission to put Vision in the driver’s seat… and stop using the R-word! Big churches have lots of programs. There’s not a thing wrong with programs. But programming (lots of Bible studies, small groups, family activities, fitness plans, travel) can be a distraction from a congregation’s shared vision.
When a faith community puts an emphasis on programs, they run the risk of people leaving when the church down the street offers a program they like better. So program planning becomes a vicious circle: offer more, fancier, more polished programs in brand new buildings or via shiny fast technology. Church leadership becomes focused on numbers and fear. A church focused on numbers and fear – no matter how nice their brochures or how hip their website it – is dying. We are tempted to measure success with spreadsheets and numbers rather than with transformation.
The alternative is to let vision run the show. A shared, energizing, hopeful vision for the future – not just the future of an individual church, but the future of a movement, the future of the earth community. It’s risky, occasionally chaotic. But it’s exciting.
When vision drives the church and becomes the center of decision-making and resource allocation, the church no longer needs to worry about being relevant. (Side Rant: I HATE talk about getting relevant. Bleh.) We get behind the vision, do the work we are called to do, and leave the judgments for history to decide. In other words, when we are busy working, we don’t have time for hand-wringing conversations about being relevant.
Gift #3 Relationship gets more than just talk All churches talk about relationship. It’s a buzzword. The hype around relationships is crazy-making. A friend of mine had an interesting experience with a large Phoenix church. The relationships this church seemed ready to build were with her husband (with a manly, trade show vibe) and with her children (with contemporary music and lots of technology). When they stopped attending, no one noticed.
Everyone’s a pastor. Everyone is a caregiver. I struggled with this in my first year as a church staffer. I had this idea that I would swoop in, fix the education programming (meaning, that I would fill a calendar grid with classes and speakers), and things would just get magically better. Caregiving was just not in the picture. Then I helped lead a retreat (more programming! LOL) in which there were two people in a lot of pain. One was grieving; the other was working through some painful experiences in her past. This second participant had an obvious ‘tell:’ when she would talk about her family life and the difficulties they had experienced, she would grin largely and nervously. The grin masked, just barely, the struggle. I did a lot of caregiving that weekend and since. It’s changed the way I listen, the way I show up, the way I measure my accomplishments in any given week. I’m still growing in this area and feel so grateful for the grace my community shows me as I learn.
Everyone is a caregiver.
Gift #4 Getting Creative… because it’s required In the 1950s when everyone went to church, I imagine that creativity was a luxury. When everything was going well and the church was ahead on budget items, the staff would get creative.
These days, creativity is an everyday thing. Newly minted M.Div. graduates get creative when putting together their call to ministry in order to become ordained. Children’s ministry teams get creative when they don’t have a budget for the off-the-shelf pageant or VBS curriculum. Churches discover that they have gifts sitting RIGHT THERE IN THE PEWS! Chefs, teachers, organizers, plumbers, drivers, engineers pitch in to do the work we are called to do.
Gift #5 Lay Leadership Gets Real Again, I imagine that in days gone by, lay leadership was something a little extra. Churches set aside a day in the fall to recognize the church board chair and the Sunday School teachers. Isn’t that nice? The niceness was propped up by a culture of single income nuclear families and at-home caregivers.
Now, there is less of a division between authorized ministry and lay leadership. More ministers have day jobs to pay the bills. We are getting rid of the idea that being called to ministry requires a Rev in front of your name. These are “fighting words” for some of my friends and colleagues, and this warrants much more digital ink, but this is what I see.
Additionally, despite the necessity of intensive volunteer work and expertise and involvement, there are fewer June Cleavers in our pews. There’s a squeeze of time that we are all living with. AND YET… I see busy and passionate people at board and team meetings every week, prioritizing God’s work over the millions of distractions technology and culture afford us.
UN Photo/Logan Abassi
Church is people who are watching and waiting – looking toward the margins to see the next place where God is at work. Church is people who are acting – serving peace and justice on behalf of all. These pioneering actions continue to happen despite the naysayers who are ready to write the church’s obituary. A smaller church for postmodernity can be MUST BE a visioning church, a caring church, a countercultural church, a serving church.
I hope I’m at least a little bit right. I’m leaning in with this church thing. Peace to all.
Matthew 5:47-48 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
“And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”
The smell of wet glue and drying paint lingered near the kitchen table filled with new arts and craft projects. My sister asked if I could tell which of the creative pieces had been made especially for me? I nodded no and then she slowly began to point out all the ones with glitter. We hadn’t yet talked to the kids about my sexuality, but as an out gender-queer gay person I chuckled with her at what my young nieces and nephew had seemingly picked up on.
I’m not personally a fan of glitter, but it’s been around a long time. It can be traced all the way back to cave paintings in 40,000 B.C. Ancient civilizations (including the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans) used it. It’s quite possible glitter could have been a part of any number of our Bible stories. Maybe the dramatic Bathsheba wore it in shimmering make up long before the androgynous Ziggy Stardust in the early 1970’s? Maybe the prodigal son had celebrated with it like the New York City club kids did in the 1990’s?
The at-risk and homeless LGBTQ youth I minister with LOVE glitter for all the reasons I don’t. Glitter reflects light, it covers up imperfections, and it has a dark side. Yes a dark side, because it gives a false impression. For these beloved youth, glitter brings sanctuary. Through their experiences they’ve been taught they’re unattractive, unworthy, and disposable. The glitter hides deep scars and makes the ugliness of their world appear more beautiful. God knows they deserve some beauty.
Skylar Lee became a statistic this week. He was a 16-year old high school student and transgender advocate with a bright future. He was an accomplished writer and had just published a story about his difficult journey to self-discovery. Identifying as a queer transgender person of color, he found it difficult to survive while sharing messages of hope to other young struggling trans teens. Last Monday Skylar posted a suicide note on Tumblr and then took his own life. Social media was abuzz.
We act surprised. We grieve. But let’s keep it real. A 2014 analysis of the National Transgender Discrimination Survey by the Williams Institute found that more than 50% of the students who were bullied in school due to anti-transgender bias had attempted suicide. If that wasn’t bad enough, the number of reported suicide attempts jump to 78% for students who’ve experienced physical or sexual violence at school. And surveys of shelters in 2011 & 2012 found that 40% of homeless teens identified as LGBT. That number is staggering when you consider what a small percentage of homeless teens actually identify as LGBT. These are our children. Why are we so apathetic to their plight? Why do we reinforce the negative lessons they’ve learned, through our silence? Why aren’t we diligently working to create positive systemic changes for them? Why don’t we realize they’re dying?
The Hebrew word for “perfect” is “tamiym.” It’s translated as without blemish, whole, and complete. I believe our LGBTQ youth/young adults are perfect. They’re almost all survivors of the worst neglect and/or abuses. I thank God every day for the miracle that they are still alive, and fighting to remain so. A few have served time in prison, a few have issues with alcohol and/or drugs, a few sell their bodies for food and shelter; and I’d like to believe in God’s eye’s they all remain unblemished. We need to be the adults. We need to take responsibility for relegating so many of our own children to the gutter. We’re the imperfect ones, we should be carrying their scars.
In faith we are asked if we are greeting anyone besides our own brothers and sisters. We are asked to move into perfection ourselves by caring for the unlovable stranger. I’ve heard it preached that perfection in the Bible is often referred to as blameless. Skylar Lee was blameless. We failed to teach Skylar of his worth and now he’s gone. No doubt there will soon be another announcement of an LGBTQ youth/young adult committing suicide.
Isn’t Skylar’s life enough? What are we going to do? What are our churches going to do? When will we attempt to move toward perfection by making a difference in the lives of today’s LGBTQ youth and young adults? They don’t need glitter. They need us.
PRAYER
While dreaming of a world where glitter is no longer needed, we pray to our unlimited and unconditionally loving God. You have called us toward perfection. May we be moved toward you by loving the unlovable. May we be moved toward you by giving voice to those told they are disposable. Move us through our complacency to action as we bring health, wholeness, and justice to our LGBTQ children. Amen, let it be so.
DID YOU KNOW?
The first American transgender suicide helpline, entirely staffed by transgender people, has just opened. God’s transgender children can call the Trans Lifeline at 877-565-8860. Please share some light and spread the word.
We are called to love. We are called to love those around us. What about this, though: Those around us are who we are called to love.
This removes the fantasy element of all of this. Now we are dealing with names, dates, places and times. We are dealing with life in real time. This is a different discussion all together because it is the marrow of life, the relationship aspect of our dwelling together. And it’s where everything can get messed up. There are so many moving parts that often require intention and care.
Anne Lamott says that we are on this Earth without a manual because this is forgiveness school. Wouldn’t that be something? If my purpose on this Earth was to be able to forgive? My access to self-forgiveness and my access to forgiving those around me often get in the way of my call to love. Now my ability to recount every wrong that someone has done is amazing. Where others may have athleticism, I have this down pat. If the Olympics offered resentment as a sport, you’d want me representing you there! And I am certain I am not alone in that. I am certain we could spend just a little time observing the world around us and find some Olympic quality resentment. And we don’t even have to observe the world around us; we can simply observe the world within us.
This is lived experience. Lived experience is often far different from imagined experience. It is in the lived experience that we get to have access to realities that change the very fiber of our being. Those around us, right now, are who we are called to love.
The recounting of wrongs, resentment embracing and the tit for tat lived experience does not allow access to grace. It allows access to what is due, not what is healing. A lived experience in which we keep record of wrongs and the score card limits our own access to grace. There is something so life affirming in affording someone else grace when the score card is full. In my own spiritual development, I have recognized that when I turn toward forgiveness and choosing love, I am turning toward that in my own life as well. I open that door to you and suddenly that door is open to me. I have access to a lived experience that before was completely blocked. I have access to the very love that I long for because I have offered it to another.
Richard Rohr speaks eloquently on this topic in his book, “Breathing Under Water” which is his description of choosing a life lived in spirit. He says this, “Grace will always favor the prepared mind.” It is not that grace isn’t extended to all. It is. Grace is all around. The love of God is all around. Our ability to have access to this grace and love is often in direct proportion to our willingness to turn toward love.
I lived in South Africa in the late 90’s. I was a 7th grade school teacher. I moved there at age 18 so I was a baby teaching babies. I was having it out one day with one of the students, Akhona Mvandaba. We had argued and argued and argued that year. I offended him. He offended me. Our score cards were oh so full! I don’t remember what triggered the moment of change, but something did. He said something that I didn’t like and we were on our way to the principal’s office. He had his angry face on and so did I. We were huffing up the way when our path was blocked by a Mama. Her name was Esther.
She asked why we were angry. I let it out, listing his bad parts that were just not acceptable. Then he let it out listing all the reasons why I just was not good people. As we took turns, Esther took my hand in her hand. She then reached for his hand. We continued as she held our hands. She began to say “Peace. Peace. Peace.” I responded to Akhona’s last sentence with furvor and anger. She started to rock with a sway, side to side, “Peace. Peace.” It went back and forth as she swayed. And the quiet began to rest on me. It began to rest on him. Peace. Peace. I cried. He cried. It was such a hard year. “Peace. Peace.”
She blocked our path to anger and spoke peace into our beings. And something changed fundamentally. There was no anger left, just sadness at all the moments we didn’t love each other. We swayed with her and the gentle rocking presence of God rested on us. Peace. Peace.
Those around us are who we are called to love. As Richard Rohr so eloquently put:
“Grace will always favor the prepared mind.” But then he continues, “Maybe we can sum it up this way: God is humble and never comes if not first invited, but God will find some clever way to get invited.”
Look around. The invitation is right in front of you.
Peace.
Peace.
Image above: My students at Valley Dawn Christian School in Willowvale, South Africa. Akhona is in the back row second from left. – Dax
The belief in God has never been something that I have struggled with before. Even as a young child, it was just something that made sense to me. I was able to see a flow in life. I had a pretty clear understanding of kindness, compassion and love. I gravitated toward those who operated in these fruits of the spirit. My grandma would whisper messages to me as she rocked me to sleep and I would absorb them. She told me I was precious to God. She told me God loved me. I believed it without a second thought. What this gave to me was the belief that I was in this world for a reason and that reason had something to do with being loving.
I have a dear friend that describes her faith in a way that is simply brilliant. She has given me permission to use it publicly as it is something that I love so much and I come back to quite often. She describes herself as a children’s Bible thumper. Isn’t that fantastic? When she expands on this more she talks about really getting behind the God of the children’s Bible. The children’s bible has an overarching message. You were created by God and you are so very loved. Nice.
Then we hit puberty and we are all lost. Just utterly lost; rough stuff. Nothing that was is now. Along with that, suddenly, the message changes. The children’s Bible gets dark. It becomes more like Grimm’s Fairy Tales. For many faith communities, all of our desires and thoughts and wishes become somehow bad in some way; something to be denied and certainly to be controlled. The children’s bible will no longer do! For me, this is when intense shame entered the picture for me. My sense of belonging also became challenged as I walked toward the fringe, afraid if those people who say they loved me really knew what I thought and felt, I would be cast out.
The children’s bible version of life is often something that we can get behind. It doesn’t take too much to get us there. We seek to be loved and it feels mighty good when we experience love ourselves. I recently found out from a segment on 60 minutes about dogs that my dog likes to look at me. I have a pit bull mix that I have had since she was teeny tiny. She stares at me. A lot… Like all the time. I honestly have felt burdened by this because I thought she wanted something. Does she need to go outside? Does she want to play? What does she want?
It turns out she just wanted to stare at me because it is enjoyable to her. When she stares at me, her brain releases oxytocin. We like oxytocin. So we do things that will allow us to feel that chemical change. We are called to love and that is a good, good thing. We desire that feeling of love. It moves us and changes us to love.
So we are called to love. Yes, we can get behind that.
Let’s add to that now. We are called to love those around us.
One of the perks I have found in coming to church is that I get to imagine doing “better”, whatever better looks like given the topic at hand. We get to sit in our pews and chairs, listen to a message and apply that message to imagined circumstances. We can have imagined conversations where we put into practice some fundamental spiritual discipline. I can just see myself being loving next time I encounter whatever made it difficult last time. I am going to rock being kind and forgiving at the office on Monday. It’s going to be good.
I can create scenarios with a sense of ease in my head where I am either the hero or I am the regretful one, ready to do it different next time. But I am still imagining. I am running through scenarios, making minor promises to myself that I will do it different next time. I will really do it well.
We are called to love those around us. There is a small human that I know and love. He has been on this earth for about a decade. He is the son of two of my friends. Since his first years of being able to express himself, he has expressed a deep love for others. His ability to empathize is simply incredible. One aspect of him that is true over and over is his desire to see equality and fairness throughout the world. He has just been baffled by America’s reticence to accept all adult couples who desire marriage. It simply did not make sense to him. In June, when his mom told him the news that marriage equality had happened in America, he was thoughtful. And then his response a moment later, “Mom, now they have to be able to marry in the rest of the world.”
We are called to love those around us and the world was all around him. We can imagine as we sit here, loving others. And I do believe that is a powerful tool. The ability to imagine ourselves in a situation is often a step in living into that situation. So, as we sit here in this moment, reading these words, we are likely able to get behind the concept that we are called to love those around us.
Let’s sit with the spiritual gift of imagined experience. Spend time holding onto that and let’s check in again on Wednesday because there is more to this than a simple imagined experience. There is lived experience.
“My gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.”
I begin this article with a confession. I should probably have used the #IWASKIMDAVIS hashtag for my Twitter and Facebook posts last month, because I’m one of those older ministers whose views have changed, and I’m chagrined to think of some of my past sermons and comments. My Christian life began in the Evangelical camp and I remained there for more than a decade. “You can only know what you know” and for years the only theological writings that I came across were of the typical and unfortunate category labeling “homosexuality” as a choice and a sin. Given that background, when I came across GLBT Christ followers, I could only see them as a challenge—challenging the presuppositions that I held.
My sister proved to be my salvation in this regard; without her I might still cling to a very limited view of God’s mercy, along with a hyper-literalist approach to the Bible. She has always been a model Christ-follower in our family (although I’m the one with the formal degree in theology). Simply by being herself, Joyce witnessed to me that my spiritual siblings who loved their partners of the same sex are as faithful to Christ and as transformed by the Spirit as I (nay, they are more so). And I’ve come to realize that my gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.
As the culture wars heat up I’ve become intensely aware of how Christians get painted with a broad brush stroke. That came to a head a few weeks ago when a long-time friend told me “You’re not a Christian. If you choose that word to self-identify that’s your right, but I know Christians and you’re not that.” Now, she meant that as a compliment—her way of acknowledging that I’ve become a more inclusive and broad-minded person. But it also stung, because that accusation divides me within myself. Bombarded by the statements of right-wing politicians, preachers and ordinary believers, I struggle with doubts. Have I hit upon a truer faith now, or am I deluding myself to remain in a religion that has so long been characterized by oppression? Why couldn’t I have chosen a religion like Buddhism or Jainism that isn’t regarded as evil? Yes, I’m part of a big UCC family, with many inclusive fellow believers, but our numbers (around a million) are pretty small compared to more conservative groups like the Southern Baptists (15 times as many). And then I keep hearing old friends tell how they’ve left the faith and are so much more congruent embracing atheism (they do a good job evangelizing for their non-faith).
So am I crazy to keep believing? Thank God for the example of gay believers—they give me hope to keep on. If any group has reason to feel the sting of Christian guilt-by-association, it’s them. They’ve been told for centuries that their faith is illegitimate, that they are shameful and unloved by God. Yet their experience belies those lies and they continue to proclaim love for Jesus.
I read John Fortunato’s book Embracing the Exile: Healing Journeys of Gay Christians. He recounts the long and difficult struggle of growing up being both Catholic (sincerely devout) and gay. At one point he complains to God about his fellow believers saying “They call my light darkness! They call my love perverted! They call my gifts corruptions. What the hell are you asking me to do?” And then John Fortunato hears God’s voice, clear and unmistakable. “Love them anyway,” God said. “Love them anyway.”
I think of a trusted colleague in ministry, a gay man who reminds me that our calling is to assist all UCC churches to prosper—not just the Open and Affirming churches, not just the Progressive Churches—but all the churches in our conference.
I think of the young woman with a spikey hairdo in my church who wears a “Gay Christian” t-shirt and engages people in dialogue when they comment on that, taking on the role of an educator for the misinformed.
And if my gay companions can wear the label “Christian” despite the toxicity that’s been pinned onto that, then surely I can. Jesus is indeed fortunate to have such faithful followers—and I am blessed to be surrounded on earth by such witnesses.
Do you ever have those days when you ask yourself, “Why am I going to all this trouble?”
When I was in 8th grade (worst year of my life – true story!), my teacher Ann Andrews asked us to write five things about ourselves on an index card. My fifth thing was ‘I am an eternal optimist.’ It’s still true, but I do have those days when I wonder if I’m just talking to myself around here.
“Around here” is a church, a wonderful place filled with laughter and grace and people walking their talk. I do love this place. My lungs fill a little deeper when I pull into the parking lot.
But every year it gets a little harder. Every year attendance is down just a bit. Every year we have to struggle just a little more to make the budget. Every year I’m sweet-talking just a few more to get people to participate in spiritual formation (Sunday School, classes, and retreats and such).
At least that’s the way it seems some days. I assume that you have “some days” too. Maybe today is one of them. Just in case, I’m answering the question TODAY so I can remind myself when I need to hear this answer.
1. First, some non-reasons. These are completely irrelevant (to me).
Because I don’t want to burn in hell.
Because I want my kids to be “good”.
Because I don’t want my kid to have sex outside of marriage.
Because Christianity is the only answer to the meaning of life.
Because I’m afraid of / superior to other religions and cultures.
Because I fear.
hee hee…”baggage”
These might be legitimate reasons for some people, but they aren’t mine. I list them here just to deal with the baggage.
2. I stick around church because it grounds me.
Human beings are funny creatures. We are, in the words of the Psalms, “made just a little lower than the angels.” According to evolutionary thinkers, we are the universe becoming self-conscious for perhaps the first time. We are simultaneously selfish, greedy, obsessive, mean, short-term thinkers who can’t get our shit in squares to save our own sorry lives, much less the whole darn planet.
My faith does a great job of keeping me in this middle place: knowing and hoping for the best part of humanity and acknowledging that we are flawed and more than a little dangerous. Yeah, I could have faith without church, but that seems like a lonely answer.
3. I stick around church because it answers my questions and encourages me to ask better, deeper questions.
At its best, Christian faith helps me develop a healthy relationship with my experiences. With a rich history of contemplation and mysticism, Christianity gives me tools with which to grapple with the biggest questions life has to offer. These tools aren’t the only ones out there, but they’re mine: prayer, meditation, centering, lectio divina, acts of mercy and service, spiritual direction and companionship.
4. I stick around church because it makes me a better person.
There’s always a tug between being real and being kind. At least there is for me. Maybe some people are naturally kind, and good for them. Being part of my faith community gives me lots, LOTS of opportunities to practice kindness. I tell my kiddos all the time that the best thing someone can say about you is that you are kind… not smart or beautiful or accomplished or wealthy or popular or athletic. The more that I’m around these wacky church people (I’m talkin’ about you, Southwest Conference!), the more I feel the impulse to kindness. The more I practice kindness, the more I progress along the path to being an actual, real life kind person. Then kindness becomes part of the real me. It’s a slow process; just ask the people who know me!
Church folks are not the only people serving peace and justice in the world, but it’s a good bet that if you scratch the surface of a church, you’ll find people who care… and put their caring into action.
5. I stick around church because it is a human thing to do.
Darn us humans with our existential angst! We just can’t help it. We are always looking for meaning. Sometimes we have a hard time finding meaning and we just make some up. We’re meaning-making, meaning-sharing, narrative-telling critters. We’re hard-wired for connection and community. We long to belong and to become whatever it is we’re meant to be.
On the big scale, we’re still a species in our infancy. We’re still growing and evolving. Church is helping me do my part. It’s a lot of trouble, but I’m sticking around. I hope you are too.
Karen Richter is Director of Spiritual Formation at Shadow Rock UCC. She has worked previously in a variety of educational and nonprofit settings. Her interests include peaceful parenting, theology in pop culture, and adult/adolescent faith formation. She is also active in Shadow Rock’s sanctuary ministry and Whole Life Center. Karen lives in Anthem, Arizona with her husband, children, and tiny dog.
Does it hold true, that when we have room to address our existential questions that suffering is eased? One great existential question is “what does it mean to be human?” As the following essay suggests…failing is part of the human experience.
“So last week I tried to hang myself on a stretch of land off I-35,” said my friend, who I call my cousin.
“Jesus,” I swore. “Why?”
But I already had an inkling that I knew the answer. My cousin’s story wasn’t very new to me anymore.
“I was tired of feeling like a failure,” he said.
And there it was, the F-word.
I heard him and knew his pains like they were my own. It remains one of my greatest regrets that my scholarly father lived to see his son enter college at an early age but died before he could see him leave at a late one. In my short life I have failed at more projects than I have accomplished, and even my accomplishments don’t look like much in retrospect. I work two jobs, one in a tenuous entry-level position, the other as a janitor. I have never had a romantic relationship that lasted over a year, and I drive a beat-up vehicle. Look for a picture of success online and you will not see the face of Raziq Brown.
I have stared into The Abyss known as Failure and Loss many times. Not only has it stared back, but it has pulled me down into its murky depths just as it did my cousin, several times in fact. I have seen at least one friend claimed by The Pit, know several who are spelunking it by way of various intoxicants, and know a few more who have thrown themselves in, only to be spared by grace in its various forms.
I come from a generation of people who are often called lazy, selfish, and impractical; not unlike those from many generations before. I cringe every time I hear such things. I know there is an entire population of young people literally killing themselves to prove their inherent worth to the world and to become successful by whatever means and in whatever mode they can.
They say my generation expects too much for too little. They say we are children who refuse to grow up.
I think back on my own life, and I know they are wrong.
Would the boy I was approve of the man I am? No, the boy I was would have thrown himself off the nearest bridge just to save himself from future embarrassment. The adolescent I was would have driven the car to get him to the bridge, and the man I was the year following my father’s death would have piled the boy with strong spirits so the fall wouldn’t hurt so bad. But I am not the child I was, the teen I was, nor the man I was then.
I am the man I am now. It is all I can ever be. It’s all any of us can be…Raziq George Brown.*
I leave you with this thought…”Success is not measured by what you accomplish, but by the opposition you have encountered, and the courage with which you have maintained the struggle against overwhelming odds.” Orison Swett Marden.
* Parker, Kayla ed. “Becoming: A spiritual guide for navigating adulthood”. Unitarian Universalist Association. 2014 pp 12-13.
Kelly is a recent graduate of Iliff School of Theology. She is the Justice Coordinator for Rebel and Divine UCC, a ministry in formation committed to the health and wholeness of at-risk youth and young adults. She has been a nurse for over 30 years and is currently employed by one of AZ’s Medicaid programs working with young pregnant women. Her passion is forming connections and playing with language in the liminal space between humanity and divinity.
