ROGUE CHRISTIANITY - Faith off the Grid

Christian PTSD and a bunch of other stuff

2012-02-13T13:24:00.002-06:00

Warning: Stream of Consciousness Ahead—Slow down when approaching the curves.

· There has to be a respectful way to argue that Christianity may be the greatest threat to the teachings of Jesus Christ.

· There has to be a way to open up the discussion with spiritually honest folks about the burden of Christianity on the intent of Christ’s message to ALL of humanity.

· There has to be a meaningful way to investigate the problems generated by Christianity without attacking individual Christians.

· There has to be a way to criticize the belief system without tearing down the believers.

· There has to be a way to look at Jesus, the red letters, and the Cross from a first person perspective instead of through the filters of Christianity.

· There has to be a way to escape the zoo of Christianity and view Christ in the wild—no barriers—no separation—no vendors—no warnings—just people standing right in front of the Lion of The Tribe of Judah (Rev 5:5).

There has to be a way……...but I don’t know what it is.

I’m never so “on point” and cautious as I am when I attend a Christian church service. Most would think that it’s because I’m damaged goods or that I’ve been wounded by church folk in the past and just haven’t healed yet. Well, that might be part of it, but I’m nobody’s punk. I don’t whine about injustices and angrily stomp around fuming over defeat. I have a pretty short memory when it comes to confrontation and even rejection. What I don’t forget easily is disrespect or contempt—both personally and when observed from a third-party perspective.

I don’t carry a chip on my shoulder, but you won’t ever sneak up on me easily more than once.

Let me explain what it’s like participating in a church service (traditional or contemporary—mainstream or off-the-grid—clean-cut preacher or guy with an 8” goatee) when you have all your senses in hyper-active mode at the ready for any type of a flanking maneuver. It’s exhausting!

It’s like playing soccer on a field where there MIGHT be a couple landmines. You’re not sure if they’re there, but they MIGHT be so you’ll need to diligently scan the ground as you “play” the game. All the while the other players on the field joyfully play the game without worries or hesitation. In contrast to them, you play the game like Rain Man trying to get on an airplane.

I like to think of it as Christian PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). Does that mean I consider myself a victim? Of course not! I was a volunteer. No one made me participate in the system dynamic which is Christianity.

Or did they?

No. What am I saying? No one forced Christianity on me; it was a choice I made on my own at the age of 9.

But………..… I don’t know. I mean what other alternatives did I have? At 9, the choice was quite clear—either accept the basis of Christianity as expressed through my particular church congregation or reject the message of Jesus Christ and what his life/death means to me for all eternity.

And THEN radically remodel those Christian ideologies at age 11 due to the different philosophies at our new church community. Then there was the refashioning of those beliefs at age 15 after my parents had given up religion all together and I had to start evaluating doctrine and theology on my own (which meant I would attend the church where most of my friends went).

That was a Christianity based on the sound ideology of: God wants our youth to have a full-functioning gymnasium and lounge areas with pool tables and old couches. That wasn’t a bad Christianity. It provided many of us a place to meet members of the opposite sex that appeared to be like-minded Christians and thereby “safe” for exploring the nuances of dating during our mid-teens. We really took advantage of that one!

Next month’s overnight lock-in—Hell, yeah, I’m gonna be there!

There were lots of other churches with just as many different flavors of Christianity. All of them had good points and bad points IMO. But there was always one thread of consistency that ran through all of them—Jesus. So it came to pass that when I finally got tired of readjusting my own sense of who Jesus WAS based on the plethora of versions I came into contact with (Jesus version 3.7 – Jesus version 20.8) I began to think about what all of the different flavors of Christianity must look like from Jesus’s perspective (confession: I usually type “Christ’s” instead of “Jesus’s” because I’m never quite comfortable with that spelling—too many ssssssses).

I still don’t have any idea what it all must look like from the Jesus perspective. I realized the dangers of that thought process early on. It required me to assume that I knew anything at all about how a creator evaluated his/her creation. However, I think that it was that time in my life that led me to pursue writing. I wanted to know what it was like creating something you were proud to present to others whether they appreciated it or not and then see what it would feel like witnessing what others would do with your creation. Sometimes they tear it apart. Sometimes they OVERLY embrace it. Sometimes they respectfully ponder it and give you a little chuck on the shoulder (those are probably the best).

But sometimes they ignore it. Sometimes they disrespect you and carefully shoo you out of the room so that the “real” grown-ups can talk. Sometimes they label you and your creation too artless or ordinary to be the work of anyone worthy of their time. Sometimes the flaws in what you create are evaluated contemptuously overshadowing any beauty, honesty, or truth you may stumble upon in the process of being creative. Sometimes you’re considered a piece of shit no matter what you have created because it’s not what the “real” grown-ups want to hear or are looking to decorate the walls with.

Dude…did I just hear an “amen” in the distance?

There is a point to this weird post. Let me see if I can find it.

Oh, yes! What it feels like to attend any form of church service with Christian PTSD. It’s exhausting! I know I said that before, but I don’t know what more to say without coming off like some kind of raving lunatic hell-bent on throwing all Christian church-goers under the bus whether they have a “real” relationship with Jesus Christ or are just going through the motions in order to get an invite to the lock-in.

I don’t know where it starts or ends. Oh, wait! What about that Alpha and Omega thing? Isn’t Jesus the beginning and the end? Give me a second to Google that…

I knew it: Revelations!

You see, all those different forms, flavors, and versions of Christianity kept teaching me that Jesus was the “first and the last, the beginning and the end.” They kept telling me that, “Jesus is all you need, son.” They kept telling me that the spirit of Jesus lives inside me somehow as a guide or conscience or something like that. They all pretty much unilaterally agreed that I was safe as long as I was walking alongside Jesus following him to our next venue or just sitting atop a hillside watching a rain cloud come our way.

And then they turned the tables on me. They told me that I needed their approval. They told me that I was taking some of this Alpha-Omega talk a little too literally. They said that THEY were commissioned to be my shepherds and that I should get back to the flock. And do you want to know what I finally found in the midst of all of this conflict, chaos, and confusion that gave my soul a peace it had never felt before?

Jesus—Lion of the Tribe of Judah standing four foot in front of me on the savannah grasslands without a tree in sight—nowhere to run—nowhere to hide. I stared that Lion square-ball in the eye as long as I could anticipating some answers. I stared him square-ball in the eye—a bold man daring the Big Cat to attack. I grasped a knife in each hand and prepared to TAKE whatever answers I could get.

But in the end there were no answers. In the end, I dropped my knives, knelt reverently on my left knee, and began to weep.

I wept for all the people I had failed instead of all the folks that had failed me.

I wept for all the times I made others feel like shit because they didn’t know the right scripture or where a certain book was located in the Bible.

I wept for all the people I had forsaken because they were reluctant to buy into my version of Christianity.

I wept because I had planted some of those landmines on the soccer field hoping to expose those that didn’t believe the way that I did.

I wept for about 2 years.

And when the weeping was over I looked up to see the Jesus lion still standing there staring at me. He locked eyes with me for a moment as if to say, “you good now?” and then he turned around to leave. He walked a few steps away before turning to look at me over his shoulder. Then he said, “you coming?” (I know Lions can’t talk, but I swear on a stack of Bibles that this Lion said, “you coming?”)

I’ve been following Jesus ever since in a way that defies convention and tradition and ritual. It’s all so clear now. I didn’t need answers. I needed experiences. I needed time with Jesus. I needed to watch how Jesus loves.

Now I get to witness this same scenario playing itself out over and over between Jesus and other folks as I stand back about 50 feet and just watch the stare down until each individual, in their own time, bows to one knee and weeps however long that they need to. Then we all follow together as we move to the next venue or sit atop a hill watching rainclouds gather. It’s all very surreal and yet it seems so normal after a while.

This is all based on a totally real dream that I had once, BTW!

I’m still traveling along watching and learning as the Big Cat (that’s what I call Jesus sometimes) gathers folks from all cultures, creeds, colors, and walks of life. I still don’t know where we’re all going or exactly what’s on the horizon, but these people I hang with are radically different than any of the folks I grew up going to church with. I’m not trying to say that they are better or worse—just different.

I’d much rather attend a 1%er function than a church service any day – any week – any month – any year. I feel safer at an outlaw mc gathering or bar than at any Christian function. What I mean is that there’s definitive protocol in the biker world. There are expectations and consequences that don’t shift or change depending upon the situation. You can always feel secure around a bunch of 1%ers as long as you know the rules—and the rules are always the same. Show respect and you get respect—act an asshole and you are sure to be treated like an asshole.

Church isn’t like that. Christians aren’t like that. The varying forms, expectations, and beliefs of different versions of Christianity can switch up on you so quick you have no idea what you’re supposed to do or who you might offend in the process. You might even be the BIGGEST asshole in the group and be honored because of it. It just doesn’t make any sense and it is NOT the least bit consistent.

Jesus makes sense. Jesus is consistent. He loves. He leads. He rescues. He bleeds. He roars. He finds YOU. He doesn’t care what you look like or what you THINK you know about anything. He wants you to watch HIM work. Pay close attention. He leads.

He leads because not only is he love, truth, honor, and majestic Lion but also because he is RESPECT.

He is respect to others. He is respect to our planet. He is respect to all of HIS creation. He places value in his creation whether we do or not and expects us to respect it (all of it) as well. This protocol does not waver. This protocol is a constant.

The lion demands you to respect yourself. If you cannot respect yourself due to the ongoing pressure of whatever group you belong to then you need a new group. You’re welcome to join me hanging with bikers, but you’re gonna need to know the rule of respect first.

I’ve found more personal discipleship at the hands of patch holders in the mc world than I ever did in 25 years of bible studies, retreats, or church services. What’s that supposed to mean to someone like me? I’m still trying to find out. I will tell you that learning the very specific means of conveying respect whether in the mc world, military, or any other organization which highly regulates and values honor, respect, and loyalty can elevate you spiritually to a place that looks down on Christianity. Yeah, I said it!

Give me the respectful cadence of a biker rally any day over a Christian function. At least with the bikers I know what’s expected of me. With Christians, you never know what they’re gonna spring on you. Hence, you have to always be on your guard with your speech, actions, and even body language.

That kind of hyper-active sense of uncertainty doesn’t bode well for the Christian PTSD victim and neither does participating in a game of “watch your ass” played on a minefield of expectations.

You get my drift………

When words fail the Heart can still hear

2012-02-08T11:19:00.000-06:00

I don’t trust Christians.

Wait; it gets more offensive.

Christian functions make my skin crawl.

I’d rather listen to 24 hours of shrieking hurricane force winds than listen to Christian music.

I can’t stand Christian “worship”.

If I had my way society would cease all forms of sanctioned Christian activity, henceforth.

I trust Jesus with all my heart, soul, and spirit.

Wait; don’t roll your eyes yet.

Good music, good drink, and meaningful discussion are healing to me.

The silent private moments of sensing Jesus somehow revealing things to me heals my spirit.

Good days and bad days—my life is my form of worship.

My idea of heaven is being around a group of real people with real problems talking about what works and what doesn’t.

If you’re turned off by where I’m coming from with any of this then I guess we have to agree to disagree. Simply put, I reject the notion that corporate worship, sanctioned lists of dos/don’ts, and Biblical teaching provide direct pathways to the soul-heart-spirit. In a world of abject poverty, moral depravity, and social injustice I think we need to focus on direct pathways to the soul-heart-spirit. This is why I don’t trust Christians.

For one thing, Christians have traditionally been identified by their knowledge of Scripture, participation at Christian gatherings, and adherence to Christian mores. This results in a reasonable conclusion that an exceptional (more righteous) Christian will usually be one that has an exceptional knowledge of Scripture, an exceptional record of participation at Christian gatherings, and an exceptional adherence to Christian mores.

Herein lies the rub—no matter how beneficial those activities or compliances may be, they will never directly impact the soul-heart-spirit. These things can never ever replace the simple private reassurance deep in your heart (way down deep where the real stuff lies about like a cave full of treasure) that Jesus really likes you just as you are right here—right now.

The expectations of other Christians don’t mean shit. Listen TO your heart.

The rules and regulations don’t mean shit. Listen WITH your heart.

The behaviors of the people you associate with don’t mean shit. Listen to THEIR hearts.

Christianity (i.e. the belief system) will always be about molding and shaping people into what Christians think they should look like. What about what Jesus wants us to look like? What’s supposed to happen when we listen to our hearts and what we hear contradicts what Christians want us to believe? What happens when Christians convince you to stop trusting what your heart is hearing? What are we supposed to think of a Jesus that conveys messages to our heart that challenge us to ignore traditional Christian values? Who’s the real Jesus? And after a lot of these kinds of frustrating questions: who really gives a shit, anymore?

Ephesians 6:12—for our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

The rulers are those that set the rules. The authorities are those that enforce the rules. The powers of this dark world are those that treat humanity with disdain and contempt.

With a fully open mind and a fully open heart I cannot ignore the shocking similarities between the rulers, authorities, and powers that we struggle against and the prevalent mainstream belief system we call Christianity. I just cannot ignore the potency of Christianity to poison and hate and corrupt. I want to ignore it. I’ve been trained to make excuses for the disparity between what Jesus teaches our heart-soul-spirit and what Christianity teaches our minds. I’ve spent days at a time fasting and praying that all of this Christian learning would miraculously jive with what I sense is Jesus speaking to my heat-soul-spirit.

I’ve discovered that you cannot serve two masters without unwittingly discovering that you’ve grown to love one of them and hate the other (Mathew 6:24). It’s basic human nature. One cannot focus their supreme affection or devotion on Jesus AND the “riches” of this world. Be careful not to take the lazy approach to the word “riches”. Riches don’t always mean money. Toxic riches of the world are more often power, prestige, acceptance, notoriety, accolades, deference, etc.

Part of the problem with Christianity is that it is easily converted to a system which promotes power, prestige, acceptance, notoriety, accolades, deference, etc. That’s why I don’t trust Christians, enjoy Christian music, or attend Christian activities. It’s because you never know which one you’re dealing with—either it’s a Christianity contemptuous of humanity or it’s a Christianity filled with the flamboyantly prestigious. Rarely is it a Christianity that connects directly to the heart-soul-spirit.

I don’t trust Christians because the righteous ones look just like the toxic ones. I don’t trust Christians because they lie to themselves so much that it makes it easier for them to lie to everyone else. I don’t trust Christians because they don’t know they’ve been deceived. I don’t trust Christians because they never love me; they only love their version of me that they picture in their heads. I don’t trust Christians because you cannot trust someone that doesn’t believe in themselves more than in the system. I don’t trust Christians because I know how good the Kool-Aid tastes: it is very addictive.

I trust Jesus because he died for me and everyone else I’ve ever known or will ever know. We (the scumbags, scallywags, rebels, and misfits) are worthy based on the simple fact that we’ll listen to someone that we can trust. We’ll listen to someone that gives a shit and isn’t trying to sell something in the process. We’ll listen when we don’t have to sacrifice our dignity. We’ll listen because if you’re willing to die for me then my honor moves me to die for you if the time ever comes.We'll listen if we believe that you like us.

I am not willing to die for Christianity. Christianity did not die for me on a cross.

I am willing to die for Christ—even if my death is a result of fighting against the toxic effects of Christianity.

Listen to your heart. What’s in there? What’s happening inside there when the pastor speaks? What’s happening in there when people treat each other with contempt because of differing social/political/religious views? What’s going on in there when you witness a community of Christians affected by all of the same moral depravity as the rest of the world that they reject?

Listen to your heart. Then you can start learning how to listen to other people’s hearts. Then you learn that being willing to die for Christ means being willing to die for those around you whose hearts need someone to trust. If you’re gonna spend your time learning something: do yourself a favor and learn these things. Then you get to see what making a difference really means.

Don’t wait—do it now!

This is a very small part of what the religious rulers, authorities, and power brokers of his day did to Jesus.

From Zoo to the Wild - Spiritual Madagascar

2012-02-01T21:48:00.004-06:00

The reason I write stuff like this is more often than not to work out some of the noise in my head. The noise that says: why can’t you just play nice—why don’t you go with the flow—aren’t you worried about risking your family’s spiritual growth because of your baggage—when are you gonna accept that you’re a lunatic?

Self-analysis is my means of weeding out static from the Morse code sometimes embedded within that static which is what I understand to be God’s voice.

It kind of pisses me off sometimes. How do I (and many others like me) profess this omniscient omnipresent Creator of the universe and, yet, God evidently chooses not to communicate with us via our ears. Seriously, that makes me mad at times.

If you want me to get to steppin’ on something, God, then talk to me for crying out loud. Don’t make me have to guess about it or seek someone else’s counsel about it. Just tell me with spoken words! How is that so hard?

Maybe my 6 year old daughter is right. One time she told me that God’s words are too loud to be heard by your ears—you have to hear them with your heart. Maybe…I don’t know. Maybe God doesn’t know how to whisper and a simple “how you doin’” would blow out the windows in the truck while I was driving and cause a massive wreck on the highway. Whatever…

So the whole point of Lady and the Tramp meets Shawshank was to lay the foundation for what I think might be a universal model that explains why much of what we do, see, hear, and struggle with via religion seems so useless, irrelevant, and downright abusive.

· Tame—an animal which accepts the control of humans.

· Feral—animals that live in the wild after having been domestically reared.

· Wild—the natural, free state of an undomesticated animal.

TAME

If you were born into a Christian home and have been nurtured by Godly parents, you are spiritually tame. That’s a good thing. That’s a fantastic thing. I, too, am raising my daughter in a home where we pray together and discuss God on a nearly daily basis. There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are spiritually tame.

Spiritually tame folks get along well because they are more dependable. They are more likely to be peacemakers. They have hope for things like joy, peace, and love. They are a part of things. They guard our traditions and remind us of our heritage. These folks teach the Gospel well because they’ve been around it since they were weaned from the teat. These are good people that we should never ignore, dismiss, or reject.

WILD

From a purely Christian perspective, if you were born into a non-Christian, agnostic, or atheistic home then you are spiritually wild. Same wholesome values sometimes, but without the Christian deity involved. Spiritually wild folks challenge us. They keep us on our toes. They keep us honest with ourselves. Christians might think of spiritually wild folks as criminals or perverts, but that’s not the case. That’s getting into behaviorally wild people and that isn’t what we’re looking at. Besides, there are plenty of Christian criminals and perverts sitting in our pews and preaching from our pulpits so be very careful if your knee-jerk is to label folks by their actions or appearance.

Spiritually wild folks such as atheists are intellectually lean because they are able to engage the world without the confusing effects of mysticism. Not that they don’t acknowledge the mysterious nuances of the human spirit as expressed through love, art, music, literature and such. No, these people are appreciative of the mysteries in life and the world, but they don’t tend to attribute those mysteries to an unseen deity who comprises the ability to create and destroy at his/her discretion.

Just imagine how much simpler it would be as a Christian to explain your worldview without having to refer to an ancient text written only by men thousands of years ago. That’s what I mean by being intellectually lean—you save all that bandwidth by eliminating the need of carrying around all your mystic beliefs.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Spiritually wild folks that do not believe in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and savior to mankind but do embrace some form of religious mysticism are some good folks, too. They might not share the core beliefs of the Christian, but they will usually line up very well with the Christian when discussing matters of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (fruit of the Spirit).

FERAL

If you were spiritually tame at one point and are now wild then you are spiritually feral.

The spiritually wild person fears the spiritually feral one because if the feral crossbreeds beliefs with the wild it might disrupt the fragile ecosystem and adversely affect the harmony of the wilds’ balance with their natural habitat. This is why a feral person must hide their residual churchy-church vocabulary and worldviews when amongst the wild ones or else they will be perceived as weak-minded and rejected. In nature, the reason that a pack of wolves may turn on a sick or injured member of the pack and kill it is because of the natural instinct that one weak member makes the entire pack weaker as a group. This perception is quite valid. Christian views hard-wired into the brain of a once spiritually tame individual WILL dilute the integrity of a group’s non-Christian viewpoint.

Likewise, the spiritually tame person fears the feral one because feral beliefs crossbred with tame beliefs disrupt the fragile Christian ecosystem and adversely affect the harmony of the natural habitat (church). This is why feral people must hide their worldly vocabulary and competing worldviews when amongst the tame groups or else they risk rejection. Same scenario applies—the worldly views and mannerisms of the feral person must be killed as soon as possible lest they weaken the entire group via a dilution of the integrity of the Christian belief system.

All of this makes it hardly worthwhile to jump the fence of organized religion and disappear into the surrounding forest. The very real risk one faces is a rejection of the wild and of the tame folks. Perpetual spiritual purgatory is never really a favorable selling point. The feral Christian risks everything if they wish to experience anything outside the fence.

The domesticated person (spiritually tame) has many advantages. They are fed well and often. They are safe behind the fence of religious expectations. They rest peacefully without worrying about what stealthy hunter might silently kill them in the darkness of the night. They can trust in the safety of their numbers. They are comfortable, happy, and content folks who are excited by wild ones that wish to convert via accepting the confines of the fence in exchange for regular meals and security.

However, it is imperative that wild ones willing to convert must follow the rules that maintain order within the compound. These are expectations that have proven for many years to sustain the order and safety of the tame lifestyle. To live within the yard, it is very important to respect the sanctity and righteousness of the fence. The fence is there to protect. The fence is there to defend. The fence is there to offer peace of mind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The spiritually wild lifestyle has many advantages as well. They eat food sources that thrive naturally and without cultivation. They stay alert even when at rest which sharpens their analysis of reality. They, too, trust in the safety of their numbers as they readily form packs. They are comfortable, happy, and content people but in a different and equally as valid way as the tame folks.

They aren’t as excited about converts that have been raised behind the religious fence. The thought is that formerly tame people cannot ever fully put aside their preconceptions and worldviews. Simply put, wild folks remain skeptical of newly escaped tame folks because the tame ones are always trying to trick wild people into coming into the yard. It’s like the tame people want everyone to be like them—to the wild mindset that is completely egocentric and maniacal.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

In all of this analysis we see two different groups separated by fences, rules, opportunities, worldviews, beliefs, traditions, etc. What the tame have to embrace as the core of their mission is Matt. 28:19.

· But does this mean that the tame are being called to entice all of those that are wild and feral into voluntarily setting aside their lifestyles and beliefs in exchange for life inside the fence?

· Is life inside the fence the goal of discipleship?

· Has the fence been built by God or by man?

· What is it that is so harmful and scary about living in the wild?

· Does God have authority over the wild areas as well as within the fence?

· What kind of psychological and physical stresses are placed upon a wild beast that is brought into captivity?

· Is this enough bullet points?

I’m still working on the answers to these questions. To tell you the truth, I don’t even believe that there is a fence at all [1]. I think both tame and wild have blindly accepted the reality of the fence for so long that they haven’t stopped to verify its existence in a very long time.

Because of this suspicion, I’ve developed a working hypothesis that the spiritually feral person seems to be the only one that can truthfully evaluate what is real and what is not. One that is capable and willing to function within either group brings a useful perspective to the table. They are able to discern the positive value of domesticated lifestyle as well as its negative implications on the soul. Likewise, they are able to evaluate the harmony inherent within the wild lifestyle as it conforms and adheres to the environment as well as understand the kinds of stresses and difficulty these things impart on the soul. The feral person is in a position to embrace the values of both and potentially bridge the gap between tame and wild. The feral person jumps whatever barriers exist at will.

If this is true then I boldly assert that the contemporary Christian generations of post baby-boomers who seem to be abandoning the ideas of domesticated lifestyle and jumping the fence are not moving away from spirituality or the church. Instead, they are moving toward the great commission of Matt. 28:19 but in a new and uniquely different way than anyone has ever devised before [2]. We’re not talking about a once-in-a-lifetime scenario—we’re staring at a once-in-a-civilization event.

They are becoming spiritually feral (sometimes at great societal risk to themselves and their relationships with older generations). But is this a bad thing?

As a lone feral animal roaming about the deep forest with no pack to protect you and uncertain about food sources or the location of water—yes, you can be in great danger potentially preyed upon by all varieties of creatures more likely to consume you than share their resources. However, as packs of feral animals begin to form providing legitimacy and knowledge of resources we begin to envision a scenario ripe with possibilities. We begin to see the abandonment of fences, divisive ideologies, and behavioral signposts.

What eventually emerges from the proliferation of a spiritually feral population is a new kind of revival—a renewed sense of loving one’s brother as we love ourselves (Mark 12:30-31)—a removal of the barriers we’ve long been devoted to as the source of our protection and safety. The reality is clear that these religious fences have failed to keep evil away or believers in check. The reality is clear that barriers and beliefs and rules of behavior do not create disciples or save lives or teach love, loyalty, or respect.

Robert Frost’s Mending Wall is oftentimes remembered most for the saying that, "Good fences make good neighbors." But what Frost is actually writing about is that traditional values are all that keep us mending these gaps in the wall. He hints that the barrier between he and his neighbor doesn’t make sense—that the futile upkeep of their divide serves no real purpose that he can discern. I like Frost’s questioning of tradition versus reality.

I think Frost would rather have a glass of bourbon with his neighbor while laughing at all the effort they’ve wasted over the years maintaining something that was completely irrelevant. I think Frost would rather blur the boundaries between he and his neighbor and so would I.

I think Frost would agree with Jesus’ teachings of inclusiveness and embracing the leper as an antidote to fences and their upkeep.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

I think God is that something.

In order to raise people’s expectations you have to challenge their preconceptions.

Lady and the Tramp meets Shawshank

2012-01-30T11:17:00.005-06:00

When I was in fifth grade I had two dogs. One was a house dog, Foxy. The other was a dog that slept in my room at night but roamed the streets during the day, Butch. I don’t remember much about Foxy except that she had the most annoying habit of rolling over on her back to elicit a belly-rub anytime you made the slightest move downward to pet her. But Butch was altogether a different kind of dog.

I remember my stepdad trying everything he could think of to keep Butch from jumping the six-foot privacy fence. Ultimately, we conceded victory to Butch when it became evident that he would risk grave bodily injury to maintain access to the outside world. Eventually, we discovered that his daily escapes were due to a medium sized wheelbarrow with a bent tubular handle that hung from the fence. Butch may have only been 10—12” tall at the shoulders, but he could leap up to the back of that wheelbarrow for a boosted final jump which would send him over the fence without any sweat.

Foxy thought she had it made. Free food, clean water, climate-controlled environment, no responsibilities, no one teaching her tricks—just a dog living like a princess whose only interaction with the harsh realities of the outside world were requisite potty breaks each day. This dog’s idea of heaven would have been to be carried around all day by a woman in a shoulder bag living off of liver flavored treats and Perrier. As I said before, she was my dog in that I fed and watered her, but she wasn’t my kind of dog.

Butch had a sort of swagger about him. He was a “man about town”, a rogue, a rapscallion, and an all-around street hustler. Butch was gonna do what Butch was gonna do. He was his own man, so to speak.

Butch was a stray that I’d come across at my stepdad’s business. I was allowed to bring him home with the admonition that, “he’s your responsibility.” I was very excited because Foxy just wasn’t turning out to be much of a fifth grade boy’s idea of a companion. I wanted a dog that would be my buddy. I wanted an “Old Yeller” kind of boy/dog relationship. I really wanted a dog that was hell-bent on pleasing me—Butch was NOT that dog.

If I forgot to feed him, Butch would take a dump under my bed—Seriously. When I tried to control him via a leash or commands or grabbing him aggressively Butch would calmly and confidently lie down and refuse to acknowledge my presence or commands. In his mind, I needed the training—not him. And mostly he was right.

It took about a year for me to give up on the notion of training or altering Butch’s behavior in any meaningful way. Once I allowed him the room to establish the boundaries of our relationship things between Butch and I changed dramatically for the better. Butch had a lot to offer me as a 10 year old in need of a best friend, but first we had to establish a set of ground rules for the relationship based on respect instead of control. After that, we had the kind of storybook boy/dog connection that made “Old Yeller” pale in comparison.

Butch would walk me to school every day and then peel off to roam the neighborhood until recess when he’d reappear at a different door on the other side of the school to play with me and my friends no matter what we were doing. You would never have known who Butch belonged to because it was as if he belonged to all of us. When we went back inside he’d disappear again only to turn up at the first door in time for school to be out so that he could escort me home again.

Then we’d head over to Jimmy’s to play basketball or over to Richie’s for a neighborhood game of football in their lush yard or maybe down the alley behind Mr. Simmon’s yard to steal enormous purple plums that hung from the tree in his back yard over the fence. As long as we were being active or headed someplace on foot or on our bikes, Butch was there in the mix (I’m getting a strong Norman Rockwell image of a plate my grandmother used to have hanging on her wall right now).

However, if we weren’t in motion or actively engaging in some type of activity, Butch became quickly bored with us and would wander off. For instance, he’d tag along when we rode our bikes out to the lake, but he’d disappear if we started hunting under rocks in the stream for crawdads or fishing at the dock. Butch was a dude on the go!

Butch was an amazing animal that had no owner. He loved everybody equally (except the town dog catcher who became so defeated by Butch that he never ever got out of his truck when he spotted Butch running loose). Butch belonged to the neighborhood. Everyone played with him. Everyone left scraps out for him. Everyone playfully called to him as he crossed their yard. What I later realized was that Butch didn’t simply roam about aimlessly—he patrolled.

Actually, Butch was guarding me and my friends whenever we were out and about. If we were stationery and he knew we would be there for a while he’d continue on his patrol of the area within earshot of us so that whenever I whistled he’d come hustling back to escort us to our next location. And while we were in school or indoors, Butch was patrolling the neighborhood.

It was years and years later before I began to put the pieces together. There were no other stray dogs or cats in our neighborhood. The time that Mr. Simmons came out the back gate and decided to chase all of us away for eating his plums Butch stood his ground guarding over our escape and threatened to bite that old man (that was the only time I ever saw him bear his teeth at a person). One time I got in a fight at school during recess and instead of biting the other kid—which is what I was hoping he’d do—Butch stood about three feet away from us incessantly barking as loud as he could until we stopped from utter distraction.

He was always within whistling distance because he was standing guard and I never realized it at all.

Butch was a foreshadowing of my spiritual life.

He was teaching me something that would help me understand elements of my faith later in life.

Foxy was as tame as you can get. One day outside the yard and she’d have been road kill eaten by buzzards and pooped out on tree branches somewhere.

Butch wasn’t exactly domesticated. He insisted on a relationship which focused on mutual respect. And in return for your respect he gave you love and loyalty.

I grew up in a variety of denominational and non-denom churches that all taught me how to be a Foxy. Stay safe, eat your treats, roll over on your back submissively, and don’t ever take a dump under the bed.

I was a child. Of course I thought these folks knew what they were talking about. The church was my yard. The church was my home. The people in the church were my family. The teaching was all the nutrients I needed. Even the fence surrounding the yard was there as a loving safeguard to keep me from wandering into the street.

In the early parts of my adulthood I began to feel the Butch in me grow. I wanted to check out the neighborhood. I wanted to meet new people. I wanted to investigate some of those interesting smells that wafted through the air from time to time. I just wanted to see for myself why these folks went to such great lengths to train me not to leave this yard. I told myself that it must really be a dangerous and dirty place out there.

Guess what happened when I started jumping the fence and asking questions and peeking out of the closed blinds—I saw some pretty amazing stuff that my church family had never told me about. I guess they were trying to protect me and all, but this yard had become way too small for me. Yes, there were streets to cross and traffic to avoid. Conversely, there were children playing football and parades and people happy to leave table scraps out for you out of pure niceness.

None of this meant that I didn’t love my family anymore, but things became difficult at home. I was proving to be uncontrollable. I was becoming known as a rebel. I was being talked about and scorned for my “reckless” behavior. I was being ignored when I came home because I didn’t seem as much of a part of the family anymore when compared to the Foxies in our home.

Compliance becomes compulsory at the point that expectations of the home are valued more than the simple elegance of freedom. Once I realized that freedom would not and could not be tolerated, I bolted. Fuck you guys! I’d rather live as a feral dog than have to watch you rub Foxy’s belly one more time while staring at me with that look of disappointment. And, yes, that’s a new word I learned over on 4^th street. FUCK all y’all!

Check this out.

A ten year old black kid 8 blocks away saw me down the street one day and set out a bowl of water at the base of the front steps for me to drink. Another time a gay couple offered me some bread crust at the park. I even found that the local tavern set out a small portion of table scraps for me every day when they threw out the nightly leftovers.

Here’s what I learned—if you’re going to be spiritually healthy you’ve got to be true to who you are. If your idea of heaven is living in the confines of someone’s handbag then get after it. If not, then don’t let others determine how much backyard time you get each day. And if you’re like me, don’t EVER forget that Love Loyalty & Respect ALL go together. They do not exist separate from one another. What that means is that we’re all different types of dogs, but we all need the same things to be spiritually healthy and to grow into the fullness of who God wants us to become—Love Loyalty & Respect (LL&R). Without these, you will be spiritually retarded throughout your entire life.

There are a lot of edifying fascinating inspiring dynamic things going on outside of the fence. There are folks your families have never met that can offer insights and wisdom. There are other folks that don’t even have fences around their yards.

None of this means that we have to reject our families or their yard. But you need to be aware that the family may reject you. If your freedom to explore and live out a richly dynamic existence is valuable enough to you that you are willing to risk rejection by your family then you need to have the courage to be true to yourself. Being true to yourself in this kind of a situation is what a “calling” is all about.

It takes prayer. It takes an ear for God’s voice. It takes an awareness and understanding of your surroundings. And most importantly, it takes an understanding that an expectation to receive LL&R is just as important as the willingness to give LL&R.

Don’t be a fully domesticated pet to ANYONE in exchange for food and shelter without the demands of mutual LL&R. If you do then you have no value. If you do then you have no purpose. If you do then you will perpetuate the kind of home that keeps dogs on chains, gates locked, and animals living in kennels just because that’s the only life you’ve ever experienced yourself.

“Guess it comes down to a simple choice really. Get busy living or get busy dying.”

-The Shawshank Redemption

Ugly Brides make for Ugly Children

2012-01-27T11:12:00.000-06:00

Let me start off by saying that I am NOT a theologian nor do I want to be one. I am not one to argue biblical translations or inerrancy. I do NOT view Christian scripture as a contract whereby all parties must accept it as holy writ to be enacted as law or to rule over us. I firmly believe in a living God that is perfectly capable of communicating with humanity in diverse and creative ways IN ADDITION to the written and heavily translated words of the Holy Bible. Getting antsy yet?

I DO believe that the scripture I’ve studied and made a part of my life for the last 35 years (the Protestant Bible, usually NIV although I discovered The Message version several years ago and prefer it most of the time) has been a foundational piece to my development and existence. Having said that—I feel compelled to confess that I do NOT worship the Bible and am quite sure that without its existence I would be the same believer in God that I am today. To me, the Bible is not the cornerstone of my faith—Jesus is.

I mash up metaphors like a child squishing together different colors of play-doh. Sometime I mash them all up so brutally that the individual colors disappear and the result is a brown ball of logic which resembles a philosophical turd. I know this about myself. I will never be cured and have no hopes of growing out of this “phase”. It is part of what makes me impatient with predictable movies, transparent poetry, and redactive biblical teaching. If I’m an expert on anything, it is this—I know a mixed metaphor when I see one.

"If we can hit that bullseye then the rest of the dominoes will fall like a house of cards... Checkmate." – Futurama character Zapp Brannigan

God as Father = metaphor

Jesus as Son = metaphor

Church as Bride = metaphor

Christians as Children = metaphor

Each metaphor standing alone serves as a useful tool to express or explain a complex relationship. All of them mixed up into a single thread of logic become a philosophical, spiritual, and relational turd. With that said, I shift my attention to the Church as Bride of Christ metaphor because it seems to be the only one in this particular grouping that proves to be more counterproductive than the rest due, in part, to the fact that it is biblically inferred but never directly defined in scripture.[1]

The reason I’ve decided to reject the Bride of Christ metaphor is because of the way that it is used not because of the validity of the claim. The validity of the claim I will leave to the theologians.

As long as there is criticism of mainstream Christian religion there will be a cry of, “how dare you defame the Bride of Christ!” As long as there is criticism of institutional Christianity there will be shouts of, “we must protect the Bride of Christ at all costs!” And as long as there are challenges to the rules, expectations, loyalty, and grace of traditional modes of Christianity there will be placards that read, “Save the Bride—keep her pure!”

It’s a very useful slogan/belief when calling our brothers to arms in defense of values and beliefs that have traditionally served us well. It’s also very useful as a fence to keep sheep from straying into other pastures. Because as soon as we convince each other that the holy Bride of Christ is the most important thing in all of God’s creation and we put on our t-shirt that designates us as a member of the holy Bride of Christ then by way of deduction we define ourselves as God’s favored/chosen group. Once you’re a part of God’s chosen group then you don’t want to go rogue and challenge too much of the status quo. Otherwise, you might wind up on the “outside” looking in wondering all the while when the Child of God metaphor is going to kick in.

Wait! I though you said I was a Child of God which means God is my Father. Then you told me that accepting God’s Son (Jesus) as my Lord and Savior made me part of the Bride of Christ. Now you’re gonna tell me that we’re all supposed to marry the Son of our Father which should encourage us to remain pure (unmolested by culture)? Pure? It all sounds pretty incestuous to me—where’s the door?

If you’ve been around Christian teaching for more than a couple years you’re not bothered by the brown color which develops from mashing all of this up. As a matter of fact, you’re quite turned off by my flippant way of making a point above. But if you’re not use to drinking the doctrinal kool-aid like the rest of us, you tend to think that Christians are some of the most screwed up, demented, cognitively delusional people in the world. And I think that in many ways we are. But the delusion isn’t our God—it’s our perception of God and the funky little box that we package him in called religion.

If the very means by which we teach people about God creates a barrier between them and understanding or believing in God then don’t you think Screwtape props his feet up on his desk, places his hands behind his head, and takes a joyful little sigh of gratitude?

I think it’s time to rethink some of our beliefs. I think that laziness has led us to accept whatever the religious machine is producing. I think that thinking for ourselves and being intellectually honest by way of applying our individual life experiences and logic are ways of opening up a line of communication with God allowing us to experience the totality of a benevolent loving creator outside the confines of an institutionally sanctioned package.

I think it’s time to believe in God with our hearts and by doings so diminish the noise in our heads that leads us to create our own packages for our little Gods to live in. It’s called embracing our spirituality and trusting God’s presence (or Holy Spirit) in our hearts.

Risky—yes.

Scary—a bit.

Rewarding—beyond belief!

PAC - Parent Adult Child

2012-01-25T11:58:00.001-06:00

There’s something very important I’m beginning to understand about myself that defines my relationship with God and Christianity. It affects the way I relate to the world around me and the way that I visualize myself in that world. I would not say that it encompasses all of who I am or all of who I strive to be, but this new revelation about how I’m wired is beginning to answer a lot of questions that I’ve had for most of my life. My hope has always been that by understanding more of the WHY I am the way that I am I can understand the WHO I am as a husband, father, son, brother, and friend. Likewise, the thought is always that understanding the WHO I am will lead to a greater understanding of the WHAT I have to offer to those around me and the WHEN it all needs to take place.

Psychologically, I’ve been an “adult” since the age of about 11. Now, I’m not going to go into all the reasons behind why I think I missed out on much of my potential adolescence or childhood because I don’t think those reasons are the point of what I’m trying to get at. Besides, in some sectors of the world the expectations of 13 – 15 year old boys is to begin taking on the responsibilities of men and I’m not about to approach whether or not these types of cultural expectations of the universal male population are either good or bad—healthy or destructive.

At about 9 years old, my nurturing as a child figure in our household ceased and was replaced with the reality that I would soon begin to have to start taking care of myself more and more. Many of us, both men and women, have travelled this road. Again, the reasons why are varied, but the outcome is similar—we had to grow up way faster than many of those around us whether we wanted to or not. It just is what it is. It’s called survival.

Here’s the point—when you spend the first 9 years of your life being a child, the next 2 years of your life transitioning to adult, and everything thereafter as a functioning adult you DO NOT relate well to the Child ego state.

Child ("archaeopsyche"): a state in which people behave, feel and think similarly to how they did in childhood. For example, a person who receives a poor evaluation at work may respond by looking at the floor, and crying or pouting, as they used to when scolded as a child. Conversely, a person who receives a good evaluation may respond with a broad smile and a joyful gesture of thanks. The Child is the source of emotions, creation, recreation, spontaneity and intimacy.

Likewise, when you haven’t been parented (raised and nurtured) since you skipped into double digits you fail to possess a solidpoint of reference for the Parent ego state.

Parent ("exteropsyche"): a state in which people behave, feel, and think in response to an unconscious mimicking of how their parents (or other parental figures) acted, or how they interpreted their parent's actions. For example, a person may shout at someone out of frustration because they learned from an influential figure in childhood the lesson that this seemed to be a way of relating that worked.

When you spend 9 – 11 years as a child and the next 30 + as an adult you tend to understand only one of the three ego states well—the Adult one.

Adult ("neopsyche"): a state of the ego which is most like a computer processing information and making predictions absent of major emotions that could affect its operation. Learning to strengthen the Adult is a goal of Transactional Analysis. While a person is in the Adult ego state, he/she is directed towards an objective appraisal of reality.

Yeah, I know, it’s all a bunch of psycho-babble used to explain the ways we humans interact with one another. But something occurred to me recently—this type of analysis explains a great deal about how I relate to God and why I do not jive with contemporary forms of mainstream Christianity as expressed through organized religion. Simply put, a light bulb went on over my head and I continue to discover deeper explanations about what makes me function the way that I do.

Plain and simple, I relate to God as Adult to Adult. I view Jesus as a physical representation of God (Jn 14:7). Therefore, I relate to the concept, presence, and embodiment of my enigmatic creator as one adult to another adult just as his disciples related to Jesus. This explains a great deal about why the congregational brick and mortar design of “church” causes me to sit there in my pew or chair and stare without comprehension at someone teaching from a Parent ego to a group of people consensually receiving said teaching using their Child ego state. Likewise, the religious role of God as Father (presuming a Parent ego) to us as His children (presuming a Child ego) does nothing for my personal expression of Adult to Adult relationship with my enigmatic creator.

Look, I understand how the Parent ego works as I am a loving father. I understand how the Child ego works as I’ve spent many times flat on my face crying out to God for an escape or rescue. But I don’t live there. I have chosen not to consistently function outside of my very comfortable and well-established Adult ego for a multitude of reasons—one of which is that I don’t understand how I’m supposed to be Adult everywhere else in my life and, yet, participate as Child when I’m encountering God in a church-type setting. It doesn’t make any sense to me.

I’m an Adult that does not apologize for enjoying alcohol. I’m an Adult that does not apologize for using foul language when it is appropriate (and, yes, it IS appropriate from time to time). I’m an Adult who thoroughly loves the company of what most would consider “unbelievers” by the standards of religious Christianity over the company of church-fed Christians any day of the week and twice on Sundays. I’m an Adult that talks to God the same way that I talk to my Stepdad—like the true friend, confidant, mentor, and loyal brother that he is. No, my stepdad is not my biological brother—sheesh!

How do you think this type of relationship works when you walk into a congregational setting in a mainstream church of today? Let me tell you, unless you’re ready to flex a great deal and pretend to be someone else it not only creates a great deal of frustration for your pastors and others in the crowd but it ultimately leads to confusion, animosity, and a final rejection by the very people who profess to have your best interests at heart. It just doesn’t work.

So here is how this hypothesis works—I believe that many of us are rejecting the Parental role of religion in our lives because we don’t want to have to separate our spiritual self from our physical self anymore. I believe that the only way to effectively function within the religiously defined role of mainstream Christianity is to accept the role of Child and uphold the institutional “church” as the acting Parent in lieu of an absentee God—Creator—Father.

Next up, I get into the dynamics of God (Father) – Jesus (Son) – Church (Bride) – Us (God’s children) as it relates to rules, expectations, loyalty, and grace. Wow, I hope I’m up for that one.

How am I doing so far? Believe me, it gets deeper still. You might have to choose between the Red pill and the Blue pill if you travel this road with me much further. A proper pint or a glass of wine might be in order to wash that pill down.

Gas pump christianity

2012-01-20T10:34:00.002-06:00

I’d like to have a clear and concise explanation ready for friends and family that wonder why I don’t attend church any longer. I’d like to explain that it’s not all about being wounded by church-folk. I’d like to explain that it’s not about my rebellious streak. I’d like to explain that it’s not some kind of narcissistic bent toward self-fulfillment and a rejection of sacrifice. I’d like to explain that it’s not about rejecting the tenets of Christianity. I’d like to explain that it’s not about rejecting Jesus.

I’d like to explain that it IS about a rejection of idolatry.

The more I’ve prayed—studied—discussed the more I’ve come to understand that God is power, truth, and love. Power, Truth, and Love—where these things are present God is involved.

Maybe I’m always in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the vast majority of what I’ve experienced in 20 years of serving in a variety of Christian church congregations has been suspiciously absent of power, truth, or love. And when I’ve voiced this concern I’ve inevitably been written off and ignored by fellow Christians and labeled as one of “weak faith.”

Okay, so if my faith is weak, what faith are we talking about? My faith in the sovereignty of God is strong. My faith in the sacrifice and teaching of Jesus Christ is strong. My faith in the value of community is strong. My faith in the expression of love via service, kindness, respect, and loyalty is strong. However, I have no faith in the belief system we’ve constructed—zero—zilch—null—nada.

The set of beliefs and practices we’ve all come to know as Christianity are just that – a set of beliefs. Our belief systems are NOT God. They attempt to explain and promote God, but they are NOT God.

The Christianity that I reject is the one that worships the belief system. The Christianity that I embrace is the one that promotes a real relationship with an enigmatic creator as expressed through the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This real relationship is NOT expressed through church attendance, tithing, and/or Bible study. That is not to say that these things are bad or void of value, but they are NOT how I experience relationship with my enigmatic creator.

Idolatry—to honor or revere anything in place of God.

By my definition to honor or revere Christianity, scripture, values, beliefs, etc. constitutes idolatry the same as those nutty Jews that created a golden calf to worship while Moses was up top receiving the commandments from God. Is it really that far-fetched to consider the possibility that the absence of power and imminent decline of mainstream Christianity in America could be due to our worship of Christianity (religion) in place of a real relationship with God?

Congregational expressions of faith in a brick and mortar church building can be a gas pump where we fuel up. But what we’re after is the fuel—the power—the truth—the love. The problem is that the most ardent defenders of religious Christianity are those that honor and revere the pump instead of the fuel it delivers. I’ve found a pond of fuel in a field and I’ve sold everything I own in order to buy that field (Matt 13:44).

I’d like to have a clear and concise explanation ready for friends and family that wonder why I don’t attend church any longer. I’d like to be able to explain that I’ve sifted through my beliefs and pinpointed the things that show signs of power, truth, and love. I’d like to be able to explain that these are the only beliefs that I honor or revere, but I refuse to honor or revere them in place of an enigmatic creator. I’d like to be understood and accepted even though my perspective is challenging, dynamic, and fluid.

I’d like to be able to articulate what it means to me to follow Christ as opposed to selling Christianity. But I’ve become keenly aware that my inability to communicate these experiences via a nice neat package shows signs of the very enigmatic creator that I profess to follow.

I’ve discovered that gas pump Christians never travel far from their gas station even when the pump has run dry. I pity them. I truly do.

Wind of Change

2012-01-19T10:29:00.001-06:00

The atmosphere surrounding contemporary modes of Western Christianity is like a fogbank of uncertainty and criticism. We are antsy about the decline of mainstream Christianity. Tradition tells us that certain fundamentals are necessary to uphold the integrity of our beliefs. Fundamentalists champion the beliefs that they rely on as the “rock” upon which their house is built. In contrast, challengers of the fundamentals come off as relativists bearing homemade signs that read “OCCUPY THE CHURCH”. The lines have been drawn. Weapons have been chosen. The conflict is real.

Does any of it really matter? I don’t know—maybe not. But the sense that I get from meeting with laity and clergy ages 45 and under is that traditional means of Christianity are proving less and less relevant to their personal lives and to the world around us, in general. Is it fair to simply dismiss this perception as the lazy misguided apathy of an “occupy” generation anxious to engage life from a relativistic perspective? Can we afford to write off these folks who have become more and more accepting of homosexual lifestyles and impressed by secular movements of social change?

Righteous indignation—acting in accord with divine or moral law. What happens when each group professes contradictory divine or moral law? Does the advantage always go to the traditional sect of belief based on seniority?

Revolution—a fundamental change in power or organizational structures that takes place in a relatively short period of time. Is traditional Christianity in the throes of a revolution? I would suggest that the shift in power has already taken place. I think that deep in the heart of each Christian, whether we want to acknowledge it or not, is the sense that mainstream, mainline, main street Christianity is floundering about like a kite searching for wind. The power is gone. The power has shifted somewhere else. And if we’re completely honest with ourselves we have to acknowledge that our source of power is not bound by traditions, fundamentals, beliefs, or any of the comfortable ideas we’ve decorated our spiritual spaces with.

It’s all about conflict—conflict management—conflict negotiation—and ultimately conflict resolution—in turn followed by the next conflict. The challenge to my readers is to embrace the conflicts we’re faced with instead of isolating ourselves from them. Let us boldly embrace the ideas we are challenged by without fear of being infected by that which defies traditional fundamental values. Truth always wins out in the end. Because where there is truth there is power—and where there is power there will be wind to not only sustain the kite but enough wind to make the kite capable of yanking us into the heavens.

The Dude abides...

2011-12-08T10:37:00.001-06:00

Okay, this is gonna be a stretch, but I was really inspired by the book I read last night to my daughter at bedtime. She picked it out from the library. I bought her a copy for Christmas 15 minutes after I tucked her in and closed her door.

Storyline: The Princess loses 7 of her 8 prized ponies to a giant. Motorcycle Dude shows up with samurai sword and a Harley. Princess makes golden thread and uses it to pay Dude to protect her remaining pony. Dude fashions invisibility cloak out of golden thread. Princess pumps iron and becomes warrior princess. Both of them use the cloak to defeat the giant. They wind up getting married and having a kid. The end.

Storytellers: It’s a boy and a girl that have been teamed up as part of a class project to collaborate on developing a story together to present to the class.

The girl wants the story to be about the beautiful princess living in a castle with beautiful ponies and a staff of servants.

The boy wants the story to be about a cool mc dude wielding weapons and acting as a hired bodyguard. Also, the boy’s version of the giant was so grotesque that my daughter asked me to cover the giant on the page with my hand while reading from those few pages. You gotta love it!

There are so many ways I can go with this story that I had to write some of them down.

Two seemingly incompatible stories make a much more interesting and valuable collaborative tale.
What is valuable to one person isn’t always valuable to another. The Princess valued the ponies. The Dude valued the gold.
The Princess’ giant was just a large man able to pick up a horse in his hand. The Dude’s giant was a hulking monster with rotten smelly teeth and green skin. The boy needs to emphasize how truly terrible the Dude’s giant is in order to fully enhance the Dude’s courage and physical prowess.
Oftentimes, the point of the story is NOT to rescue the ponies, but to build alliances with those that have different skill sets. The ultimate success of the story depends on more than any one player can bring to the situation.
In the end, the success turns out to be something entirely unintentional…love.

I thought about me as the Dude and my wife as the Princess. I thought about the people I enjoy being around as the Dude and the people I associate with in Christian settings as the princess. I thought about the “world” as the Giant, the “Bride of Christ” as the Princess, and the victims of human depravity as the ponies. I thought about it all in light of my ongoing quest for the next frontier of Christian faith. But, at the end of the day, I decided that my over-analysis was stripping some of the importance from the story…the artwork.

I miss the art of life too often while dissecting the plot. I miss the value of the pictures. I miss the look on my daughter’s face as she listens to me read the words. I miss that this story is about love.

Anyway, it was a cool story. Especially for a dad that reads endless tales of fairies, princesses, unicorns, and mermaids to his daughter.

Maybe last night’s story could be about me as the Dude and my daughter as the Princess. And, in the end, we both win through the shared experience of a fun and exciting adventure. Yeah, I like that best. We defeated the giant and rescued the ponies! And we all lived happily ever after…or until tomorrow night’s story…

What kinds of things do you miss out on? Do you partner with others that may not share your goals? Which character do you want to be in the story?

Santa is bringing a Glock

2011-12-06T10:13:00.004-06:00

Well, I agree with everything Jen has to say HERE on principle, but I’d like to offer a dad’s perspective...maybe my coffee had an extra sprinkle of ornery in it today…may.be.

I’m pretty sure that Santa is real. Hold on a minute! I’m being serious. I’ve seen him lots of times. I’ve seen art, movies, TV programs, and all sorts of advertisements offering empirical proof of his existence. Besides, I WANT to believe there is a Santa with elves and reindeer and metrosexual fur-topped boots and super-high levels of aggression towards misbehaving children (lump of coal—that’s c.o.l.d.)

I’m just gonna throw this out there and then run from it like softball-pitching a grenade into a small closet—the Santa conspiracy might not have influenced Christianity as much as Christians have inspired it’s nuanced form of our faith. Take away the red jacket, sleigh, and ridiculously frigid base of operations and you have a gray (or is it grey, I can never decide) bearded deity with minions of angels seeking to reward or punish at one specific time based upon external behavioral criteria (which seems to be situational at best) and you have discovered the fundamental belief structure of your “average” mainstream Christian. Take that for what it’s worth…

I want to talk about my dismay and (sometimes) outrage when we Christians decide to dress Santa up with a robe and sandals so that we can understand God. I want to talk about how inconsequential these conspiracies are in light of a robust faith focused on a God that transcends behavior, politics, sexual persuasions, economic status, et al.

I know that Santa exists. He exists as our God analogue. He exists as our watered-down version of I AM.

My 6 year old daughter has been asking me almost every day whether or not Santa is real.

I’ve told her that it’s up to each person to decide whether or not Santa is real. That it’s okay for one person to believe and another to disbelieve. That we respect the believers as well as the unbelievers.

Before you start throwing Bibles and Hymnals let me just say that what I’ve done with Santa in this situation is lump him with the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy as a nonstarter. In effect, I’m encouraging her to test out her own beliefs and discover those that bear-out under scrutiny. My belief is that someday we’ll be able to discuss how Santa failed her while Jesus did not. My hope is that instead of Santa being her God analogue, as he was to me, that together we’ll be able to ponder all the ways that Santa is the antithesis of God—that sovereignty cannot be usurped by consumerism, greed, or behavior modification.

I believe in Santa. I’m trying not to, but I’ve been programmed to relate to God the same way that I relate to Santa. It’s in my Christian DNA. I’m gonna keep modeling benevolence, gratitude, respect, and forgiveness in order to “earn jewels for my crown” (can’t even type that without a grimace on my face). I’m gonna keep the discussion open with my daughter about all of the fairies, ghosts, unicorns, and magic of the world. I’m not ready yet to share with her all of the ways that culture is waiting to mug her and steal her innocence and sense of security.

I AM ready to guide her through this maze of BS we’ve inherited instead of squawking at her via a bullhorn from the observational perch.

Now…I know that Jen Hatmaker is absolutely right. None of what I’ve said here is a contradiction or challenge of her blog post. I’ve only recently met Jen, but to meet her is to know that she is a FIERCE momma. And not just with her own kiddos, but with anyone that crosses her path. I find confidence in knowing that a radical like Jen is out there cutting the path for those of us trying to discover our own radical voices.

Maybe I felt a little convicted by her post. I must have felt something because it stuck with me since yesterday.

Call it a contradiction if you want or even hypocrisy if you like, but I’m writing this while sitting 12” from our Christmas tree across the room from our ornately decorated fireplace mantel and listening to Rat Pack Christmas songs via Pandora.

My point? I may have lost it. No, there it is…

I’m far more fearful of trying to define truth for my daughter as she grows up and being found wrong than I am of acting as her consigliere vis-à-vis truth.

See, dads let the kid hammer nails into a board knowing that eventually there will be a thumb that gets in the way. We’re not evil. We’re just not Mom. And, “for Santa’s sake, don’t tell Mom I let you ride around the block on the back of the Harley or Christmas is cancelled this year and you’ll be WISHING you’d gotten a lump of coal.”

I’m hoping for additional cash this Christmas because I’ve been saving up for a new Glock. How do you even begin to explain THAT to a Jen Hatmaker? It’s impossible! I guess I’ll go back to being radical after the holidays. It’s been a rough year. Forgive me for letting my guard down at this time of year. I’m still trying to figure out why God looks like Santa in a robe to me with the voice of Dean Martin. It’s a very confusing and childlike time of year for me.

Oh, and I always visualize Indiana Jones as the “elf” sent to deliver the lumps of coal…what’s that about!!!

After The Event

2011-11-29T10:03:00.001-06:00

Some people move into our livesand quickly go.

Some people stay for a while andmove our souls to dance.

They awaken us to a newunderstanding, leaving their footprints in our hearts,

And we are never the same.

~Author Unknown

These words were printed on the back of our shirts. Ashelpers at the event, we all wore red short sleeve t-shirts with goldlettering. On the front of the shirts was a banner design with the words—SarahFest, Family, Friends, and the phrase “Fajita Cookoff, Benefit, and Bike Show.”

I was there as a guest of my sister. She’d asked me to comeup for the event to help enroll people in the bike show and be available forvarious “grunt work” that might need the expert handling of a “grunt workexpert.”

Since I’m a sucker for ~~anything my little Sis asks me todo~~ a charitable cause, I agreed and decided to ride the Harley up toLubbock for the event on Oct. 1, 2011.

I dig bike events. I’m a fajita connoisseur. And I’m alwaysup for a fundraiser when a worthy cause is involved—this cause seemed uniquely worthy.

At the time of the fundraiser Sarah was 28 years old. Shehad two babies, ages 4 years and 8 months.

Sarah had been diagnosed with cervical cancer 6 days aftermarrying John Perez on October 9, 2010. By the time of Sarah Fest the cancerhad moved to her right lung. Since that time it’s been found in her liver aswell. Pleaseread more here.

It doesn’t get anymore worthy than that!

What really made this event special to me was the level oftalent, dedication, planning, and respect that went into putting it together.This wasn’t an organized charitable organization with experienced volunteers.This wasn’t a local church rallying around the family. This wasn’t a group ofcivic leaders pulling together support from the community to honor these folks.This was an event initiated, sponsored, supported, and facilitated by an outlawbiker group known as The Bandidos.

However, Sarah Fest was specifically advertised as “opento all”. In other words, The Bandidos operated the event forSarah and her family without labeling it as theirevent. They graciously stepped aside and pushed the Perez family out front asan offering of honor and support.

There was a bike show (MyFXDL won first place in the “I Just Ride It” class). There was a dunkingbooth. There were grills cranking out delicious varieties of fajitas. There wasan auction. There was an outdoor stage for the band. There was a raffle.

The food was donated. The shirts were donated. The venue wasdonated. The golf cart to carry Sarah around from one end of the event to theother was donated. It was all top-shelf and carried out with the fervency andenthusiasm of people taking direct ownership of this event. Every person Iencountered working this event, cooking fajitas, being dunked in the booth, andoverseeing each area seemed vested in the success of Sarah Fest.

More than a dozen area mc’s (motorcycle clubs) from as far as 200 miles awayrode in to support Sarah and her family. Groups showed up with envelopes ofmoney collected from those that couldn’t attend. Unknown motorcycle riderstravelling down the highway nearby were waved in and asked to join thefestivities. Music pumped out of the PA system. Kids threw balls at the targettrying to dunk friends and family into the murky water of the big tank. Itemsdonated for the auction were scoured over and hasty mental notes made about howmuch was going to be bid for specific items.

Folks bought entry into the bike show and then paid for eachvote that they cast. Others paid money to name the person they wanted to havesit on the dunk tank seat while the targeted person was allowed to offer moneyto buy their way out of the tank. Raffle tickets were sold. Tickets for eachfajita plate were sold. Tickets for beverages were sold.

All day long men and women in red and gold shirts directedincomers to available parking, hustled supplies, ran messages back and forth,administered complex events, and poured themselves into the event we calledSarah Fest.

But not one volunteer that entire day exhibited anynoticeable tendency towards a selfish agenda. No one that I watched ever triedto share any of the spotlight. No one I was ever near seemed the least bitinterested in listing all the ways in which they were giving of themselves toensure the success of Sarah Fest. People just served—plain and simple—they justdid what had to be done and reflected any appreciation people tried to givethem toward Sarah and her family.

It was a day thatdefined BENEVOLENCE.

Respect, honor, loyalty, and love—you can say what you likeabout The Bandidos, but you cannot say that they don’t live these things out ata level outshining most of the folks who would never attend an event like SarahFest.

See, we get so caught up in the mechanics of the thing. Weworry about the perception of others that might associate us with “thosefolks.” We forget that the ends to the means is to provide more than justmoney…it’s to provide a fleck of hope to a dying woman and her family. It’s thekind of hope that assures a dying mom that her children will be loved by alarger community of folks than she’d ever dreamed possible. The hope that herbabies will grow up in an environment where the REAL things that matter will bemodeled for them and that they will grow up knowing that to love means to serveand to serve means to be willing to die in place of evenwhen the situation seems without any hope at all.

Through Sarah’s suffering she had given us all theopportunity to come together for a common cause. She has given us all one ofthose magically rare moments to experience each other’s appreciation for life,suffering, and resolute commitment. Sarah’s illness has given all of us theimpeccable glimpse beyond one another’s tats, patches, political convictions,and social biases. Sarah gives UShope that we are not all as selfish as we pretend to be most of the time. Sarahreminds US of our respect, honor,loyalty, and love for one another. Sarah needed to remind us of these thingsbecause we are being left as caretakers of her babies. Sarah needed to makesure that we have our shit together before she trusts us to look after herfamily once she is gone.

Thanks, Sarah.

We won’t let you down.

We’ll look after your family.

We’ll look after our own families.

We’ll remember that the dunk tank is NOT what life is about.

We’ll remember that the music, food, laughter, and love ofone another are what life is REALLYabout.

Some people move into our livesand quickly go.

Some people stay for a while andmove our souls to dance.

They awaken us to a newunderstanding, leaving their footprints in our hearts,

And we are never the same.

~Author Unknown

If you are interested in supporting the Sarah Perez Memorial Fund, please let me know and I can get you the necessary information.

I'm not trying to redefine anyone's definition of "MISSIONS" with this post. I just wanted to show what the flip-side of the coin looks like to me. One side is the Alaskan Funk--the other is After The Event. If this isn't an example of a successful STMission effort...I don't know what is.

What do you think?

The Alaskan Funk—Short Term Mission Gone…Meh…

2011-11-18T09:30:00.001-06:00

Last week I spent 5 days in Alaska on a mission trip. Ourgoal was to finish up a lengthy punch list of projects intended to get part ofthe hosting church’s building closer to an initial building inspection.Stairs/handrails brought up to code—electrical conduit run—drop ceilingsinstalled in kitchen areas—vent-a-hoods and exhaust fans installed—all thestuff that city inspectors and fire marshals require in order to operate anytype of commercial facility.

10 men ranging from ages 20 to mid-60’s from South Texasflew 4200 miles (one way) to donate our construction skills and time in aneffort to “advance the kingdom.”

I don’t really knowwhat “advance the kingdom” means, but it seems like a good fit.

So, we’re fed three hearty meals a day at the church. We’reseparated into groups of two or three to stay at different church member’shomes. And we’re only asked to do inside jobs because, let’s face it, we’re allfrom South Texas and this is Alaska in November…those things aren’t even close to the same.

The hospitality was fantastic. The food was delicious. Thehomes that we stayed in made us all feel like we were part of their families.

So, this is the part of the tale where we metaphoricallyland on the carrier and announce “mission accomplished.” This is where I’msupposed to talk about the bonds that we formed within the workgroup and what awonderful experience we had enjoying the magnanimous hospitality of thesewonderful Alaskans. This is where I’m supposed to thank God for the ability togo—serve—interact with folks that I might not have ever had the opportunity toshare life with had it not been for this short term missionary opportunity.

After 4 days of contemplation and analyzing this trip, Ifind myself increasingly disillusioned. I know we went there to meet a need. Iknow we went there to offer help. I know we went there to minister to the needsof this small congregation. I know that we went there with all the rightmotives. I know that the work needed to be done to further their project towardcompletion. I know that it was all seasoned with the best of intentions andthat we exceeded their expectations.

Why do I feel so funky about all of this?

Oh, wait! I know why I’m jacked up over this trip. It’sprobably because over $4000 was spent on airfare to get us all there and back.

It has something to do with the fact that the part of thebuilding we were doing work on was 12 years old and had never been occupiedbecause of a lack of completion.

I’m certain it has something to do with the observationsthat this all took place near downtown Anchorage (not out in the wilderness) wherethere were 5 churches within a 3 block radius.

And…you know…if I’d known that these folks were potentially competingwith the mission across the street instead of partnering with them…Oooo…let’snot go there.

Call me naïve, cynical, overtly zealous, or just plainstupid if you like, but here’s my analysis of the funk:

· You partner with other churches in the area,thereby, developing long-term relationships with your neighbors to collectivelymeet the unique needs of the community that you share.

o You DO NOT ask a group to front the bill forairfare in order to get free labor from men that you’ll never see again. It’sthe missional equivalent of a “one night stand” (the term missionary position should be worked in here, but I’m not thatclever).

· You analyze the needs of the community and weighout whether or not the facility you’re trying to complete has any tangiblevalue in relationship to those needs. If not, you leave it be (it’s set for 12years—couldn’t be that critical to the overall mission of this particularchurch).

o You DO NOT prioritize the completion of abuilding which has never been used simply because “we have to finish whatsomeone else started” or because someone in the congregation offers a large sumof money to facilitate the completion of a portion of the project.

· You determine what the direction of your churchis and how God intends to use it BEFORE you engage in costly renovations withoutany concrete ideas about what you’re going to do with this structure once it’scompleted.

o You DO NOT repeat the mantra, “someday God’sgonna give us some direction” or “once this is complete our mandate from Godwill become self-evident.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There was a crazy homeless guy that was around the placequite a bit. He was allowed to sleep in the church’s van and camp out insidethe building sometimes while we were there. He was obviously deranged andeasily agitated. He was tolerated, but never welcome. Most of the members ofthe church avoided eye contact and relied heavily on one or two people tocontrol / direct the crazy homeless guy.

No one engaged him.

No one made eye contact with him.

No one gave any indication that he was present.

Everyone tightened up a little with fear when he waspresent.

Would $4000 and the attention of 10 Texans have made ameaningful impact in this man’s life? Probably not.

Would an institution devoted to feeding homeless folks likethis man every week have benefitted from $4000 and the effort of 10 volunteersfor a week? Most definitely.

Will the money, effort, and time consigned to this Alaskanchurch’s building ever be justified through service to the community? Well, atlast check, no one seemed to have much of an idea.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Can we just cutthrough the BS?

Anchorage has a huge homeless population. Why in the hellare we riding the non-committal fence of “praying that God will lead us tounderstand what our unique mission is in this community?” FEED THE HUNGRY—notfeed the overweight Texans.

You’ve got 20,000 ft² that hasn’t been used foranything other than a 12 year draw for mission groups from the lower 48? LETTHE HOMELESS IN OUT OF THE COLD—not let the Texans avoid the cold withinside-only projects.

Anchorage seems to have as many churches as any small cityin the Bible Belt. Why aren’t these churches working together for any otherreason than to eliminate the $4000 captured by Delta and forgotten like it wasjust spare change found between the cushions of the pews? BE GOOD STEWARDS OFOUR BENEVOLENCE FUNDS—don’t waste it on frivolous self-affirming travelagendas.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

All the men and women involved with this endeavor were goodpeople. They had good intentions. They probably feel very good about how it allturned out and the means by which it was carried out. There were good thingsthat resulted from the trip.

But there are far greater needs in this world than thefixing of stairs and the running of conduit. It’s an appeal to the lowestcommon denominator. It’s a lazy way to serve and it’s an inefficient use oftime, energy, and money.

It’s leveraging a nice destination in order to gain freelabor. It’s fun, it’s somewhat beneficial, and it generates a good feelingamong the participants. We exceeded their expectations because theirexpectations were too low.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Final shot of Bruce Almighty is a gradual close-up ofa dirty homeless guy holding a sign. As the shot grows closer the man’s facebegins to morph into the face of Morgan Freeman (who plays God). The visualmessage is that God IS the least ofthese. God IS the crazy homeless guywith a short fuse and a mean disposition.

How dare we ignore the crazy homeless guy! How dare we avoideye contact with the dirty disenfranchised! How dare we heat a building for 12years while the homeless sleep on park benches throughout the Alaskan winterwhich lasts a really long time! How dare we complain about the length of theflight or the width of the seat on the plane or the lack of leg room as long asGod is hungry, cold, weak, and lonely!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Last week I spent 5days in Alaska on a “mission” trip. Our goal was to finish up a lengthy punchlist of projects intended to get part of the hosting church’s building closerto an initial inspection. Stairs/handrails brought up to code—electricalconduit run—drop ceilings installed in kitchen areas—vent-a-hoods and exhaustfans installed—all the stuff that city inspectors and fire marshals require inorder to operate any type of commercial facility."

I’m ashamed that I ignored the homeless guy in order to workon a building.

I’m ashamed that I ignored God.

I’m ashamed and confused about what to do next.

Are we really meeting needs or are we nurturing our self?

Where do we go from here?

The Walker

2011-11-17T09:29:00.001-06:00

The Walker: An Anonymous Blur on the Horizon

via Red Letter Christians

by Morf Morford

"Even though virtually all of us have seen him as he wanders relentlessly, day and night, across and beyond his home town, few know his name.

Those of us who know him call him the Walker. That’s what he does. He is well over fifty years old and has not had an established home for years.

His mail is delivered at the local rescue mission (where I used to work).

He walks."

[Full Article and Comments]

System Dynamics (4)

2011-11-05T11:30:00.001-05:00

Occupy Wall Street, the Church, and the Apocalypse

"It’s not so much that the 1st world church isn’t busy with the tasks before it, but rather, what is before it is its own personal care. The church has become chaplain to itself rather than chaplain to the world. And I mean, world, in the Christian sense. It’s nourishing itself rather than nourishing those who are outside its fold. It has ignored a missional call, exchanging it for self care.

We are taking care of those in the 1st world church who are unhappy in spite of wealth, stuck at jobs where they feel like a cog, suffering from diseases that are the result of a fast-paced lifestyle filled with unhealthy foods, stress, and environmental toxins, with minds crippled by the parade of consumer goods and unrealistic lives we watch on television to calm ourselves after a day that leaves us strangely unsatisfied.

And are we nourished? Are we yet strong enough to act in nonviolence as the hands and feet of Christ in this world? Or are our muscles atrophied from disuse?"

Full Article

System Dynamics (3)

2011-11-05T11:19:00.001-05:00

Is Spaceship Earth Close to Environmental Collapse?

"According to the United Nations, the world population will reach 7 billion people this week. No one really knows the exact date, but the announcement has sparked a round of commentary, most of it pessimistic. The doubling of the world’s population over the past 50 years is the most rapid in history. Demographers expect another 3 billion at least before global population finally peaks early in the next century and begins a gradual decline. Can we make it until then? Or will our overburdened spaceship earth suffer environmental collapse?"

Full Article

System Dynamics (2)

2011-11-05T11:15:00.001-05:00

Greek crisis, other global financial woes crash the G-20 party in Cannes

"As the Group of 20 convenes its annual summit on Thursday, the rhetoric will — as usual — focus on the benefits of cooperation and the strides nations are making to further it. But in terms of concrete action, this might be the meeting where an organization meant to nudge the global economy in a more efficient direction recognizes its limits."

Complete Article

System Dynamics (1)

2011-11-05T11:10:00.001-05:00

World Population: 7 Billion

"On October 31, 2011, the United Nations is expected to announce a projected world population figure of 7 billion. This global milestone presents both an opportunity and a challenge for the planet. While more people are living longer and healthier lives, says the U.N., gaps between rich and poor are widening and more people than ever are vulnerable to food insecurity and water shortages. Because censuses are infrequent and incomplete, no one knows the precise date that we will hit the 7 billion mark - the Census Bureau puts it somewhere next March. In the last 50 years, humanity has more than doubled. What could the next decade mean for our numbers and the planet? In this post, we focus on births, but we'll be back with population-related content including it's affect on the environment and our food supply. -- Paula Nelson (47 photos total)"

Photos

System Dynamics

2011-11-03T13:55:00.001-05:00

Economically, Environmentally, and Spiritually everyoneseems to be engaging the question of, “where are we headed and what will itlook like when we get there?”

Economists continue to hope for 2.5% annual growth in thefirst world countries.

Environmentalists tell us that globally we are alreadyoperating at 140% capacity of the planet.

Christian church leaders continue to blame the mass exodusof younger generations on a secularization of Christian nations.

Is it possible that we’ve finally hit that mark in time whensustainability has been eclipsed? Is it possible that we reached the apex ofthe sustainability graph decades ago and are now witnessing what the downhill slidefeels like?

I’m not necessarily talking “doomsday” scenarios here. Ibelieve that we, as a people, have proven throughout the ages that collectivelywe possess a phenomenal amount of drive, ingenuity, and resolve to change andadapt. However, these changes are NEVER initiated during the warning phase. Asa society, we never start applying pressure to the brake when we see the yellowlight. If anything, we speed up when we see the yellow light. We do not applythe brakes until we see RED. This has the profound effect of creating violentand jarring change all in a very short period of time.

Heaven forbid we begin to slow down when the yellow light islit by scientists projecting the death of entire fisheries in the next severalyears. Why would anyone think to remove the foot from the accelerator wheneconomists are forecasting continued decline internationally on a rapidlyincreasing pace? And why in the world would the Christian churches everconsider the possibility that “business-as-usual” is dead.

Everything is changing in ways that defy analysis of pastperiods and events. Energy, Financials, Population Growth, and EnvironmentalChanges are all part of a new and never before experienced Ecology. With thisrealization comes a graphically changing environment of spirituality which HASTO transcend the current modes of educational Christianity. Gone are the daysof discussing, studying, and teaching behavior modification in the comfysettings of a brick and mortar building referred to by many as “the church.”Say hello to the future of a Church designed to serve, support, and rescue on aglobal scale so far outside the thinking of most of us that it’s impossible tofathom this early in the game.

We’re not talking here about proposed changes best suited toaddress the changes coming in the next 20 years anymore. These changes are hereright now and they DEMAND change. There is no choice in the matter. It’salready happening. We have to understand the visceral unrest inherent in theOCCUPY folks. We have to open our ears to the criticism of all those folks we,as Christians, have rejected and labeled as “unholy” and “unworthy.” We have toopen our eyes to the humanitarian disasters happening all over the world. It’snot enough to discuss human trafficking, starvation, genocide, and hate. Wehave to engage these things full throttle.

My best guess is a Christian Church void of brick and mortaroperating collectively regardless of theological divisiveness. Maybe more likea Greenpeace type of NGO. AnNGO with real political clout focused on spotlighting the human tragedies and atrocitiesaround the world even when those tragedies do not affect the economic bottomline.

The point being that if we think we are seeing human sufferingon a global scale now, what do we think it will look like if theenvironmentalists, scientists, and economists are right about witnessing aglobal awakening of unsustainability RIGHT NOW?

The worldwide Christian community stands in the uniqueposition to step up and partner with others to serve, heal, and rescue. It’stime to feed the lepers. It’s time to rescue the children. It’s time to give ashit about more than personal growth. The planet is dying. The global financialsystem is breaking apart. The global population is increasing exponentially.Resources are finite. Energy is the drug that we all crave.

The light is red RIGHT FUCKING NOW! Let’s engage with thatresilience, ingenuity, and resolve we’re capable of weilding. Let’s defineourselves by what we agree upon instead of by what we disagree about. It’s allinterconnected. It’s all interdependent. The climate, the fisheries, the GNP’s,the humanitarian efforts, the Church…they’re all tied together.

But what do I know? Several paragraphs ago I wrote somethingabout varying Christian organizations partnering with each other as well asother religions behind the effort of a global humanitarian effort forcingaction where only talk has prevailed. We are ACTUALLY closer to eliminating abject poverty on the planet than we are to achieving cohesiveness and cooperation among multi-denominational sects within the Christian community. So, obviously, I’m insane…

Populations thick and thin

World Population = 7 Billion

G20 Woes

Spaceship Earth in Trouble?

Occupy Church (Red Letter Christians)

Occupy the Planet is REAL!

2011-10-18T08:37:00.000-05:00

Things like this global Occupy movement don't happen unless there's a real problem. This is happening!

Occupy Wall Street global protests

http://goo.gl/t3hs4

via The Big Picture

Mainline churches on their next to last leg?

2011-10-17T10:36:00.000-05:00

Report says tithing, church spending hit record low

via The Washington Post

“Churches on the whole are continuing to spend more on current members and less on the larger mission of the church and cutting back on missionaries,” said Ronsvalle.

Ronsvalle even goes so far as to suggest “if a church is turning inward and valuing the happiness of its members” over service to others, “it is moving on a spectrum toward pagan values.”

The bottom line: U.S. churches seem to be more concerned with their own needs and their own desires over the needs of others.

http://goo.gl/pRD8L

Jesus - outlaw biker

2011-10-07T13:27:00.000-05:00

No one hugs more than a biker.
No one uses the term "brother" more than a biker and means it.
No one says, "I love you," more than a biker and means it.
No one loves their family (club, group, organization) more than a biker.
No one is committed to the rules of the club more than a biker.
No one is more reliable than a biker brother.

A biker never turns his back on a brother.
A biker values respect above all else.
A biker doesn't tolerate exhibitions of disrespect.
A biker celebrates the good fortune of his brothers.
A biker suffers the misfortune of his brothers.
A biker understands "community" and selflessness better than the rest of society.

I like to think of Jesus as an outlaw biker. I like to think of his beard as an 8 inch long braid and his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. The loud pipes are trumpets announcing his arrival and the pack that he leads makes everyone stop and stare.

His tats are the names of his family members. We are his family. We are no longer prospects. We are full-patch members. It's our job to protect the weak, value the good, and punish those that disrespect others.

In this outlaw society of ours, the posers are purged, the compassionate are valued, and the hardcore are exalted.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I’ve seen some biker brothers fall leaving behind a family and club that mourn like no other group I’ve ever seen. About a year ago, a biker I knew was wiped out on his commute to work. The outpouring of support for the family was what I’d come to expect from this culture of people. I’ve become so accustomed to the magnanimous ways in which these people show love to one another that I tend to take certain things for granted.

I drove a family member of the fallen brother out to a party that the club had been planning for several months. It was the usual affair of gnarly bikes, scantily clad women, lots of food, and plenty of alcohol. As I walked across the street with the family member at my side, I whistled to one of my brothers standing outside having a smoke. He looked up and saw me bringing the family member, swiftly flicked his cig to the street, and turned abruptly to run back into the building. By the time we’d taken 15 more steps to reach the curb in front of the establishment a group of 40 or 50 had formed to greet us.

We didn’t make it into the party for 45 minutes. We didn’t make it 4 steps up onto the curb. We didn’t make it 3 steps up onto the curb. We made it 2 steps…

Every member of that club and their accompanying family members began to gather as if we were there to hand out cash. They surrounded us cutting off one lane of traffic. They were solemn. They were gracious. They were sincere.

Every single member of that club—every single spouse or significant other of a member of that club—Every “hang around”, prospect, friend-of-the-club patiently took their turn to give a hug, express their sincere regret, and offer ANYTHING they could do for this grieving family member.

For the first time as I stood watching strength and power grow through shared grief, I asked myself one question—“Why don’t Christians do this?” We think we do this, but we don’t…not like what I get to see among my biker brothers. I realized something fascinating that day. I realized what Jesus meant by “blessed are the ones that mourn, for they will be comforted.” He didn’t say they will be fixed. He said they will be comforted.

I love the MC world because they are always struggling with the balance between masculinity, responsibility, respect, and love. It’s not something you simply figure out or legislate. It has to be wrestled with and rediscovered on a consistent basis. Is it any wonder that the weekly meeting of every MC in the U.S. is called “church”? The difference is that when the biker goes to “church” it’s to handle business, resolve conflict, and enjoy brotherhood. When the Western Christian goes to “church” it tends to be about superficiality, worship of religion, and the pursuit of God’s favor.

Masculinity has to be plugged into reverence, respect, compassion, sincerity, and courage. If it’s not plugged into these things then it is called bullying. It’s the same as the connection between Christianity and love. Unplug the two and you wind up with a clanging gong that’s about as useful as a motorcycle with no chain.

Get out the vote!

2011-09-28T14:19:00.001-05:00

Taking a vote:

(Disagree) 1-2-3-4-5 (Agree)

1. ANYTHING that isolates us from relationships with people that do not believe in Jesus Christ is the “offending hand” (Matt. 5:30).

2. Even if the timesuck that isolates you is church attendance?

3. Even if the timesuck that isolates you is bible study?

4. Even if the timesuck that isolates you is 16 hours a day of prayer?

5. Even if the result of the timesuck is volumes of biblical knowledge?

6. Even if the timesuck that isolates results in hearty, rich relationships with those that already believe in Christ?

7. Even if the effort, time, self-discipline all result in a pious, religious, sacrosanct life?

8. Even if your intentions are good and you commiserate with aplomb?

Just wondering…

Marriage is a rubber band--deal with it

2011-09-12T13:33:00.001-05:00

Marriage is a rubber band—there—I said it.

And not in a “suffering the welt of a pop” kind of way.

Thisis not meant to be a deep discussion of marriage. It’s born out of my own day-to-dayexperience as well as the experiences of interacting in several dozen marriagesof friends and family. Some of these observations have been of ongoing successes.Some of them have been of failures.

Ok,I’m already treading on dangerous territory because you might infer from mystatement of “some have been failures” that I’m about to leap into a twistedrant about the eViLs of divorce and the uNhOliNeSs of giving up on a spouse.

Thatis NOT my direction. Far be it for me to determine what is best for allmarriages under all sets of circumstances. The only marriage I can speak withany kind of authority on is my own. And even that analysis is one-sided. Mywife invariably sees things from a different perspective than I do.

Ok,I’m tiring of the disclaimers. Infer what you want. Marriage is still a rubberband—deal with it.

The rubber band binds us together. It is flexible (thankGod) and it smells like rubber (which is completely irrelevant).

The tension of the rubber band is caused by 1 of 3 differentscenarios:

Spousesare moving in opposite directions.
Onespouse is moving away while the other stays anchored.
Athird force (work, kids, inappropriate relationship, finances, etc.) pulls atthe band.

We are dealing with the forces of tension daily. It’s one ofthe reasons that sex is such a critical part of managing the rubber band.Whether it’s romantic and exciting or routine and boring, when we are sexuallyactive with our spouse it’s the only time that we put the rubber band aside fora moment and come together. Everyone needs that tension release whether it’sfor 5 minutes or 45. If it takes you morethan 45 minutes then you aren’t doing it right.

Also, let’s define “sexually active” just for kicks. Someonethat engages in physical activity only twice a month is not, under anycircumstances, considered physically active. Similarly, if sex with yourpartner occurs about as frequently as a full moon then you, my friend, are NOTsexually ACTIVE. Get with the program!

Also, if you or your spouse always seems to be waiting forthe tension of the rubber band tosubside in order to value or enjoy the sex, you’re missing the point. You’vegot the cart in front of the horse. Again, get with the program!

Spouses Moving inOpposite Directions:

What’s your example?

Mine is when my wife says, “I’d really like to have myentire family here for Thanksgiving.” My response ~~could~~ should be, “Okay,honey, let’s talk about what that would look like.”

More than likely my response is more like a scene from themove “300”—“Let them come! For in the end, we all must die just as we have lived!On that day, I will either hold my shield or be carried upon it!”

I am a very transparent individual. You always know whereyou stand with me. I don’t often hold back. I can put severe tension on thatrubber band very very quickly. I suck…

One Spouse Moving—OtherSpouse Anchored:

Maybe the anchoring isn’t a choice. Kids can anchor onespouse while the other moves freely. Work can anchor. Finances can anchor.Extended family can anchor. Lots of things (both good and bad) can anchor. Someanchoring can be healthy. Some anchoring can be unhealthy.

Either way, the tension of the rubber band can be managed aslong as the freely moving spouse doesn’t pull too far away from the other. Somepull away might be good, but stretching it to its limits for prolonged periodsof time weakens the band.

Remember, one spouse doesn’t want to maintain appropriateroutine for the kids while the other is running all over the place or doing nothing at all. Thissituation can play itself out in a myriad of ways. Use your imagination…thisaffects both men and women and is NOT a primarily male disposition. We all dothis in one way or another.

My example? First year of marriage my wife and I workeddifferent hours. I was a 9 to 5’er. She was 2 to 10. So, what? I’m supposed tocome home and wait on her for 5 hours pining away the minutes until my darlingwife returned home to my loving arms? Uh, no… I would hit the pool hall,baseball game (we lived 2 miles from a MLB park), or favorite watering holewith my buddies. I was always home by 10. On a good night, I was mildly buzzed.On a not-so-good night, well……

Again, I sucked. I pulled tension on that rubber band 5 daysa week and expected our time together on the weekends to be blissful andjoyous. This was going to be great if I could just get the wife to get on boardwith my plan of pretty much doing whatever the hell I wanted to all week long.Thankfully, she never even head-faked at understanding that plan. She’sdefinitely got some Spartan in her too.

Third Finger at theBand:

This one seems to be a choice thing even when we don’trealize we’ve made the choice or that there was ever a choice to be made.

Work pulls and pulls and pulls and financial obligation makes us accept this ever increasing pull. What I’d like to say here is that money isn’t everything and neither is workso quit letting these things add tension to your rubber band. However, what I will say is that these things are areality we all have to deal with in the real world and the tension must becompensated for by closing ranks with your spouse. As tension increases anduntil tension can be diminished, two points of the triangle must come togetherto avoid breakage.

The same thing applies to kids, outside activities,organizational involvements, and other activities.

Inappropriate relationships are an entirely different animalaltogether. The devastating effect of inappropriate relationships as an influentialforce on the rubber band is exacerbated by the inability of spouses to drawcloser to one another as long as one spouse allows the outside relationship tocontinue. These types of relationships aren’t always sexual affairs. They canmanifest themselves in a myriad of ways.

My example is pretty vanilla so don’t get all excited. Giveme some breathing room here.

///Deep Breath…….andbreath out///

I had an affair with Skoal for the first 9 years of ourmarriage. Now, in all fairness Skoal had been with me for 9 years before we gotmarried. What?! It was a matter of seniority. She knew I dipped when she met meand I never promised to quit before we got married.

Let me explain why this was an inappropriate relationshipfor me. It wasn’t as much that I was a tobacco user. It was that dipping was ataboo subject for my wife.

“I promise to love,honor, and cherish you all the days of my life, but don’t even think abouttalking about my dipping tobacco because that’s all mine. You stay the hellaway from that!”

“You know I’d throwmyself in front of a bus to save you, baby, but I do not discuss my Skoal withyou, remember.”

“I would read to youfrom our notebook every day if you suffered from Alzheimer’s just so I couldspend those special days with you when you remembered who I was and our lifetogether, but if you speak of my Skoal again I will throw a walleyed fit justlike I did last time.”

{Inappropriate relationship}

Of course, if you find yourself engaging in a betterfriendship with someone other than your spouse on a regular basis (emotionalcheating) or you are boinking someone other than your spouse, that would workas an example too.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Managing the RubberBand:

No secrets here. Find a way to shift when the tensionbuilds. Don’t try to see how far the band can stretch before it snaps. Managethe band. Don’t let it cut off your circulation. It’s not the band's fault that your finger is purple. Manage the band. When 18 fingers are all pulling at theband from different directions and the two of you are situated as close to oneanother as you can get, that’s a good thing. That is oneness.

If your spouse is anchored for no other reason than stubbornness—unwillingto converse and adjust and compromise—then kick them in the ass. No, I’mserious (not physically unless you’re my wife). I mean get up in their grilland force the issue. “You’re being a stubborn jackass and I won’t have it. Compromiseis not a one way street, dumbass.”

If your kids are pulling at the band for no other reasonthan to get their way then kick their ass too while you’re in the ass-kickingmood. Partner with your spouse and do some metaphorical ass-kicking. It can beyour new hobby that you share with one another. “If you want to take on Momthen you gotta get through me first. I brought you into this world, and I’lltake you OUT.” This is called “going Cosby on the kids.”

If the both of you are moving in different directions as ifyou are independent souls enjoying full autonomy from one another, then juststop it. No, I mean it. Resentment is ruthless. It will sneak in and it willjack you up.

Remember that person you said you loved with all your heart?You can wind up sitting with friends a few years later talking all about what apiece of shit they are. The weird thing is that you might love them til thevery last moment and then, suddenly, when the divorce papers are filed and youlook over their demands with your attorney all the filters inside your heartwill flick off revealing what a truly horrible person they were. But you’dgrown accustomed to the immense tension on the rubber band so much so that yourfinger grew callouses.

What’s the Freakin’Goal?

I think the goal is NOT just to adjust to the tension on therubber band generated by life. Likewise, I do NOT think the goal is to avoidall tension on the band. I think the goal is to work as a unit to manage theband through all different seasons of tension with an eye toward the 65 yearswe should all intend to manage this very same band.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the rubber band ismuch more flexible or stretchy in the first 10 years of marriage. I think that’sa design feature. It flexes well and snaps back to its original size. It isresilient even when we don’t think it’s all that resilient.

Don’t treat your rubber band as if you intend on replacingit in 10 years even if you do. Likewise, don’t accept long term extremes oftension on your band if there’s something you can do about it.

Marriage is a rubber band—there—I said it.

"Perfect" Jesus

2011-09-09T10:00:00.003-05:00

One of the things that I believe is incongruent to a fundamental understanding of Jesus is this notion of perfection. There is no question in my mind that the idea that Jesus was perfect in every way shape and form psychologically hinders us from interacting with him in anything more than a ceremonial manner.

I live in Austin, TX. Sandra Bullock, Matthew McConaughey, and Lance Armstrong live in Austin, too. I am 100 % positive that if I spotted these three folks sitting together at a table in my favorite restaurant I would NOT pull up a chair and introduce myself. I would snap a picture to post on Facebook, but I wouldn’t get very close or be caught staring for fear of coming off like a creep. These guys aren’t perfect, but they’re celebrities. Most of us are sensitive to the fact that there is way too much “cool” happening at this table for us to handle. If we sit with these three we might think that we are trolls by comparison. What could we possibly add to their conversation that would justify our presence?

Same thing happenswith “perfect” Jesus.

I’m not questioning the “sinless” Jesus. I’m saying that “sinless” may not denote perfection.

Here’s my personal mentalimage:

Jesus is a celebrity and his disciples begin to take on the role of a buffer between him and the crowds he draws. He’s speaking to a group of MOPS over here and, obviously, surrounded by a contingency of pre-school kiddos. It’s kind of hard to hear what Jesus is saying over the chatter and play of the kids.

As self-appointed buffers, the disciples begin to shoo the kids away so that Jesus can continue without interruption. But Jesus rebuffs them saying, “Dude, don’t mess with those kids. They are as important as the rest of us.” (Matt 19, Mark 10, Luke 18).

So he kneels down to speak with the kids and tousle their hair when he sees a turtle close by. He grabs the turtle by the shell and holds it up at eye level with the children just to show them how cool it is. While Jesus has this turtle in his hand, it abruptly sticks its head and legs out of the shell and flails around a bit in an attempt to escape. In doing so, the turtle scratches Jesus’s finger with its claw, thereby, causing Jesus to drop the turtle to the ground and jerk his hand back reflexively from the sudden surprise.

Here’s my question: Canyou imagine Jesus jerking his hand back like that or dropping a turtle or beingstartled from sleep by a loud noise that made him sit straight up and lookaround wildly? Or was he way too cool for that?

And if Jesus ever was startled or surprised or flinched as abee flew right past his ear does that mess with your “perfect” image of him?

When we think of Jesus as this beatific, haloed, or perfectbeing we stop thinking of Jesus as a person—a person just like you and me—aperson that any of us would join at the table by walking up and introducingourselves.

What a shame it would be if our “perfect” mental façade of Jesus prevented us from ever feeling comfortable enough to approach his table.

What a shame it would be if our “perfect” mental façade of Jesus kept us from allowing others to get to know him as well.

What a shame it would be if our “perfect” mental façade of Jesus caused us to act as his buffer instead of sitting at the table with him and waving other people over to join us.

What a shame that would be…

Sisyphus Revisited

2011-09-09T08:23:00.003-05:00

Nakedpastor.com says, "There is a force at work that would exalt the church. There is a force at work that would humble it. It is necessary to discern this."

So, yeah - What if all the scripted defensiveness of congregational "church" were a deception? At some point, someone should respectfully ask the simple question: could it be that we are worshiping the organization and the belief system which exalts it in defiance of God's will?