We are so often concerned with form. It is easy to worry about the appearance or outward show of people’s faith as the measurement of how they are doing. If they are following the normal customs, forms, disciplines and traditions of the faith, then we tend to assume that they are fine.
Last September I had an extraordinary experience. I had the rare opportunity to see my brother Mark. I am the oldest of five children. He’s the second oldest, two years my younger. When he was sixteen he abruptly left our home and moved out west and has been there ever since. I might’ve seen him a total of a few days in over 30 years. We’ve talked on the phone, but that just doesn’t do it for me. When he left, he turned his back on the church, the faith, and our conservative lifestyle. IN September, when I got off the plane and he met me in the terminal, we immediately bonded and enjoyed each other’s company for a whole week.
He’s a great cook, drinker, smoker, swearer, fighter, among other things. He lives totally off the grid, without any I.D. or any documents at all. He doesn’t officially exist! I laughed harder than I’d laughed in a long time. He was an encouragement to me. Please understand: he doesn’t know the language of faith, the proprieties of religion, the ethos of Christianity. He has nothing but faint childhood Pentecostal memories. One night we were sitting at his kitchen table while his homemade cannellonis (manicottis) baked in the oven. We were drinking a fine syrah, smoking and talking. As he was rambling on, carrying me through a series of emotions from laughter to rage, I was struck by the deep spiritual qualities of my black-sheep brother. I couldn’t help but feel, in spite of his roughness, toughness, lack of the right knowledge, absence from all things religious, and wild and dangerous lifestyle, that he was precious to God. Throughout the week, he exemplified, for me, the spirit of Jesus… without the name, the forms, the customs, the baggage, and the symbols… but the spirit of Jesus just the same. I was humiliated by my arrogant exclusive stupidity the church is reluctant to challenge.
He talked about coming out to see me. I said I would love that and want my family and friends to get to know him. He was taken aback because he figures he has no place around anybody religious or even spiritually minded. He assumes that there’s no place for him for two reasons: one, he wouldn’t be accepted as he is; and two, he thinks that he would have to become squeaky clean to be admitted. As much as I tried to explain the nature of our community and how I think my friends would love him, he couldn’t believe it.
That whole week event reminded me of this story, “Three Monks on An Island” by Leo Tolstoy:
Three Russian monks lived on a distant island. Nobody ever went there, but one day their bishop decided to visit them. When he arrived, he discovered that the monks didn’t even know the Lord’s Prayer. So he spent all of his time teaching them the prayer and then left, pleased that he’d done his pastoral work. But when his ship had left the island and was back in the open sea, he suddenly noticed the three hermits walking on the water — in fact, they were running after the ship! When they reached it, they cried, ‘Bishop, we have forgotten the prayer you taught us.’
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Good stories. Your brother sounds like an interesting person. Hope he decides to visit.
I loved your line, “carrying me through a series of emotions from laughter to rage”. Makes me long for that place, where we tell and are told all of our stories, where we weep and laugh and rant. Smoking seems very appropriate there.
Have you read Messy Spirituality by Mike Yaconelli? I think you would like it if you haven’t. Your story reminds me of something Mike would have written. Here is one of my favorite quotes from that book:
The truly holy people I’ve met in my life are really interesting people. They’re a mix of the most incredible godliness and at the same time, the most unbelievable earthiness. I know a woman who curses like a sailor, but she’s the most holy woman I know. She is! I’m not kidding. We’ve created this image of what holiness looks like that’s just nonsense. Good holy people probably drink too much some times, and have colorful language, and there’s plenty of room in the Bible to see people like that. We have to see life for what it is, entirely more complicated then simple. Spirituality is not simple; it’s complicated. It gets messy sometimes.
LOVED. THIS. POST.
I wish for less churchiness and more sprituality.
Hmmm
*Wanders off deep in thought*
I was just talking to a dear friend today about some people who don’t (or no longer) attend a formal church. We also mentioned some people who do attend, but for whatever reasons, are not well received in the mainstream of the congregation. My thoughts were in line with what your brother told you – because I used to be that guy.
I always see three groups who are welcome in our churches. One, the attenders. I tell them – I don’t care what you eat, smoke, drink, or with whom you spent last night, you are always welcome. Two, the members. These are the people who have adopted, or at least acknowledged, the basic tenets of the church. Three, the leadership. These are the people who have gone above and beyond mere verbal acknowledgment. They don’t just talk the talk, but they walk the walk.
As you can guess, this is a bell curve. And, unfortunately, those in group one are not always welcomed as they should – and those in group three are quite rare. Oh how I wish that we would be more receiving of those in group one!
I praise God I pastor a group of folks who embrace group one.
fishon
Thanks for sharing your story – it is inspirational and challenging. As Christians [whatever brand we are] who wear the name of Jesus, it is always important to remember that we do not have an exclusive claim – grace trumps.
I have to say after a week of having to lay off wonderful, wonderful people from their jobs, I wish I could be your brother for a few days. Enjoy your time with him!
I figure God is wherever you see him. Reggie McNeal reminded me that the Bible does not say, “For God so loved the church.” Its funny how God shows up in weird non-churchy places and how the devil shows up in church. The encouraging thing is that his kingdom is much bigger than Christendom and he is at work in amazing ways in the lives of unlikely people. Reminds me of the New Testament.
According to the story Jesus lived off the grid.
Your brother sounds like a fascinating guy David. I am thrilled you guys had a chance to reconnect and I am sure he thinks as highly of you as you do of him.
thanks greg.
david, as someone who left the church and really doesn’t have a desire to return, i must admit that you do give me pause. your blog is always refreshing to read. thanks for sharing your thoughts/life in such a public way…
This is lovely NP. I’m so glad you had such a good visit with your brother, and that you found common ground after all that time. I really hope he comes to visit you and your family and friends. He sounds like a special guy – no surprise, it runs in the family I reckon!
Thanks for sharing this. I think I get what you mean. I’ve really been challenged lately about how tolerant and accepting I am of difference, other lifestyles, all sorts of things. I may not make the same choices, but who am I to judge? Jesus loves them and me just the same. For while WE were still sinners… He died for US! I realise what an intolerant person I was when I was younger – such a sheltered life, such narrowness of experience and horizon. I haven’t lived a perfect life (even since commitment to Christ),and while I don’t glory in my sin, my awareness of it keeps my feet on the ground. Thank God He forgives me, and He’s ready to forgive everyone.
God is cool.
Are you feeling better from your flu?
When we live with our eyes open we begin to see and cherish the image of God in every one of us. Shane Claiborne tells the story of his time spent in Calcutta working alongside Mother Teresa. He talks about his weeks spent in a leper colony, a community of love where over 150 families live, teaching each other the phrase “thank you.” Shane explains that they teach the phrase “thank you” to each other because they don’t really have a word for it, and as outcasts there is rarely a time to speak such a phrase. Shane did learn, however, a power and mystical word that these people would whisper to one another over and over, “namaste”. The people came to explain it as a word that means, “I honor the Holy One who lives in you,” the image of God that is in us and surrounds us. One day when Shane had finished bandaging a mans wounds he whispered this sacred word to him.
Shane writes, “I smiled with tears in my eyes and whispered, Jesus. He saw Jesus in me. And I saw Jesus in him. I remember thinking back to the stained-glass window my United Methodist church bought for over $100,000. I saw a clearer glimpse of Jesus in this leper’s eyes than any stained-glass window could ever give me. I knew that I had not just looked into the eyes of some pitiful leper in Calcutta but that I had gazed into the eyes of Jesus, and that he had not seem just some rich, do-gooder white kid from America but that he had seen the image of God in me.”
“…he doesn’t know the language of faith, the proprieties of religion, the ethos of Christianity…”
“Throughout the week, he exemplified, for me, the spirit of Jesus…”
I can’t help but notice a contrast.
I have to guess NP, that your brother, because of his isolation from most things religious, does not see Jesus in you, but sees a friend, a brother, a loving and compassionate man, and a man he cares for.
So, I guess, if it were not for your years of exposure to your religion, you would not see him through religious eyes either, but just the eyes of a fellow human.
Thanks – i really enjoyed this post.