Gas pump christianity

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

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...

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

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

Some people move into our lives and quickly go.

Some people stay for a while and move our souls to dance.

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

And we are never the same.

~ Author Unknown

These words were printed on the back of our shirts. As helpers at the event, we all wore red short sleeve t-shirts with gold lettering. On the front of the shirts was a banner design with the words—Sarah Fest, 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 come up for the event to help enroll people in the bike show and be available for various “grunt work” that might need the expert handling of a “grunt work expert.”

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

I dig bike events. I’m a fajita connoisseur. And I’m always up 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. She had two babies, ages 4 years and 8 months.

Sarah had been diagnosed with cervical cancer 6 days after marrying John Perez on October 9, 2010. By the time of Sarah Fest the cancer had moved to her right lung. Since that time it’s been found in her liver as well. Please read more here.

It doesn’t get any more worthy than that!

What really made this event special to me was the level of talent, 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 of civic leaders pulling together support from the community to honor these folks. This was an event initiated, sponsored, supported, and facilitated by an outlaw biker group known as The Bandidos.

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

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

The food was donated. The shirts were donated. The venue was donated. The golf cart to carry Sarah around from one end of the event to the other was donated. It was all top-shelf and carried out with the fervency and enthusiasm of people taking direct ownership of this event. Every person I encountered working this event, cooking fajitas, being dunked in the booth, and overseeing 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 away rode in to support Sarah and her family. Groups showed up with envelopes of money collected from those that couldn’t attend. Unknown motorcycle riders travelling down the highway nearby were waved in and asked to join the festivities. Music pumped out of the PA system. Kids threw balls at the target trying to dunk friends and family into the murky water of the big tank. Items donated for the auction were scoured over and hasty mental notes made about how much was going to be bid for specific items.

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

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

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

It was a day that defined BENEVOLENCE.

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

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

Through Sarah’s suffering she had given us all the opportunity to come together for a common cause. She has given us all one of those magically rare moments to experience each other’s appreciation for life, suffering, and resolute commitment. Sarah’s illness has given all of us the impeccable glimpse beyond one another’s tats, patches, political convictions, and social biases. Sarah gives US hope that we are not all as selfish as we pretend to be most of the time. Sarah reminds US of our respect, honor, loyalty, and love for one another. Sarah needed to remind us of these things because we are being left as caretakers of her babies. Sarah needed to make sure that we have our shit together before she trusts us to look after her family 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 of one another are what life is REALLY about.

---

Some people move into our lives and quickly go.

Some people stay for a while and move our souls to dance.

They awaken us to a new understanding, 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?