I meet pastors for coffee. Every one of them says something like this to me: “I got an email this week from somebody who says they’re leaving my church.” I’m like, “Welcome to my club. At least you got an email.”
We have the right to change churches. We have the right to quit being a part of one altogether. We even have the right to leave the faith. But there’s something I notice in charismatic type churches, or churches who have been connected in any way with the renewal movement: we are more transient. We’re looking for something. And if the church loses it or doesn’t provide it, we’ll be faithful for as long as we can, but eventually we’ll move on. When I was a minister in the Presbyterian Church in Canada, I never saw anything like this. There are many churches in this area that people move around in. Like certain birds, we tend to migrate around to wherever it’s hottest and most agreeable. Renewal and charismata does something to us. And it ain’t all good. It plants a discontent deep within us that can never be satisfied, at least for long. I know what I’m talking about because I fight this restlessness all the time. As messed up as it was, Corinth, the conference capital of the Roman world, would’ve been my drug.
Yes, I’m infected. I have the charismatic renewal virus. But I also realize that what I value most is relationship. I am worshiping, praying and learning with my friends. To go after my drug would mean to abandon them.* I don’t want that. I love them. They love me. My God, all we’ve been through together! And, as disappointing as church can be sometimes, when it comes down to it, the greatest of everything and anything is love.
*I realize that some people leave my church because they believe I am not preaching the gospel, or the whole gospel, or something other than the gospel. But that’s another story.
Contributions to nakedpastor are greatly appreciated.
When people question what you read; when people question what you say; when people question what you write; when people question what you believe; when people question with whom you hang out with; when people question your church; when people question your value; when people question your motives; when people question your intelligence; when people question your morals; when people question your loyalties; when people question your sense of humor; when people question your faith; when people question you; first, answer with humility; then, answer with perseverance.
Contributions to nakedpastor are greatly appreciated.
I’ve been doing a little bit of reading on the controversial Bishop Pike of California (1913-1969). I had done some research, then found an old copy of William Stringfellow and Anthony Towne, The Death and Life of Bishop Pike, a strange journey through Pike’s marriages, his struggles with the Anglican Church, his heresy trials, his preoccupation with the origins of Christianity and the historical Jesus, the suicide of his son James and his subsequent obsession with the occult as he tried to communicate with his deceased son. His life ended tragically when he got lost and perished in the brutal wilderness of Israel, approximately where it is believed Jesus suffered his temptations.
I want to share with you two quotes from Stringfellow and Towne’s book that caught my attention. The first one is a motto that Pike crafted:
“Less beliefs; more belief!”
The other one is:
The sermon itself was a moving recapitulation of his quest for that which could be conscientiously believed by twentieth-century Christians.
There is much today in modern Christianity which simply cannot be believed by many twenty-first century people. Science alone legitimately challenges many preciously held notions. Recently I spoke with a good friend who has left the church and Christianity because he was reading science, agreed with some conclusions, and automatically felt alienated from his beliefs. He felt, and often this is true, that he had a choice: science or faith. Or rather, he felt the church was forcing this choice upon him. Although it would be fair to say that much of the science community might force the same choice. Lately I find myself examining much of what I believe. Or am I wanting to mature in my thinking? In many quarters this would be considered dangerous and potentially detrimental. But if I am to keep my conscience clear, I must proceed! Which leads me to want to say:
- I will explore, think, and arrive at my own conclusions with a free and clear conscience.
- I will encourage others to do the same.
- I will provide a community within which this can occur.
The photo is one I took early yesterday morning on my way into the hospital to be with Jesse. It is taken with my iPhone. The solitary cloud, probably the result of a smoke stack spew from the Irving Oil Refinery, looked like something from a science fiction. It was ominous, foreboding and sinister. Even the cloud ceiling has an apocalyptic touch to it. The sun trying to break through eventually won to make for a clear day. But another storm descends upon us tomorrow.
Contributions to nakedpastor are greatly appreciated.
I’ve been thinking about what holds us together as a community. This has been on my mind because of the many people I hear from, almost daily, who are hungering for true community but can’t find it. I see this especially in the young, who have no interest in what used to define community. They are looking for something else.
It has become obvious to me that, for instance, it isn’t the marriage license, the certificate, the paper, that holds a marriage together. It has also become increasingly obvious to me that neither do the vows, the promises, or the wedding ceremony, hold a marriage together. I’ve also become aware that compatibility, having things in common, sharing a common goal or vision, is not the cohesive glue in a relationship either.
Translate this analogy of marriage into community life, you have the same thing. Being a member does not hold a community together. Being a part of a church doesn’t keep it. Neither do the sacraments or vows or promises. Neither does theological unity or common goals or a shared vision hold it together.
It can only be love, mutual love, that holds a relationship or a community together. What I am trying to say is that we have to get to the place where we realize that we just can’t expect people to remain committed to each other because it is expected, or promises were made, or there is uniformity in whatever area, or that there is a common goal we’ve set for them. People, especially younger people, aren’t interested in uniformity, conformity, or forms of any kind. There must be genuine acceptance, honesty, authenticity, freedom, and love for community to work. This requires intense energy from each person, and nothing outside of themselves can be called upon to ensure the relationship will work… no authority, document, ruler, goal, vision, practice, or tradition.
This is why I don’t strive for theological uniformity, homogeneity in life-style, protocol, authority, submission, legal agreement, or anything of the sort. These no longer matter. It comes down to love, its practice. That is, the way of love.
Contributions to nakedpastor are greatly appreciated.
I think we really don’t know what freedom is. We talk about it. We claim to experience it. But do we really know what it is? I’ve become aware of the fact that we can claim to be free when it is very obvious we are not. We might think we are free. We might feel like we are free. But we don’t realize that we are in fact in some kind of bondage. We are not free, and we don’t have the discernment to understand the insidious nature of our bondage, and we don’t have the language to articulate this bondage.
Fear often blinds us. I’ve often said that fear is a gift to prevent us from harm. Fear is good sometimes. If I’m walking along a path in my wife’s home state of Alabama and I see a snake a few feet away, my immediate reaction is to leap backwards. Fear can prevent physical harm in such situations. But I also think fear applies to our primitive reluctance to walk into freedom. We know, intuitively, the cost of such freedom. We know that it means leaving some comforts and securities behind. It means walking into a pathless land beyond theology, doctrine, rituals, tradition, norms and custom.
Which explains why we can be so wrapped up in our theologies, etc., and think and feel like we are free. It is because they provide a warm security against the truth of reality which seems brutal, cold and fearful to us. The truth is, the beauty of Truth and Love lies beyond our fears. It takes courage, insight and honesty to move into this place beyond fear.
Contributions to nakedpastor are greatly appreciated.
I read somewhere recently that Shackleton, when he was making preparations for his horrifying excursion into the Antartic, posted a recruitment ad. This is how it read:
MEN WANTED FOR HAZARDOUS JOURNEY. SMALL WAGES. BITTER COLD. SAFE RETURN DOUBTFUL.
Over 5,000 men applied. He chose 27. When I read the book South and then came across this recruitment ad, I am reminded of my own sense of what I’m to do. I don’t feel called to go over familiar ground. I don’t feel any excitement in maintaining discovered territory. I have no interest in culturing our found country. I hear a beckoning to unknown frontiers. I feel an irresistible tug towards undiscovered lands. I don’t want to go alone, but I will. I realize the dangers. I’m aware of the pay. I know the unfriendly conditions. I know I might venture out beyond safe return. But I just know there’s something out there. And I want to find it.
Contributions to nakedpastor are greatly appreciated.
David Hayward is a pastor artistically stripping to the essential.
