www.blog.therefugeonline.org

The following is a common tale in ecclesiastical imperialism (ok, church planting):

A young man (I said “man” on purpose, funny huh?), let’s call him Pastor #1, announces that God has called him to plant a church in ____________ (most commonly a white suburban or cool urban area) and thus he will need your prayers (money). Let’s say the church begins to growand becomes self sufficient. Pastor # 1 is an average speaker, average counselor, and average administrator, but the world rests on his shoulders because he is the one who was built the church. Everything is as it should be, until one day along comes an exceptional young man who becomes part of this growing community. Over time, he begins to sense a calling from God to step into more leadership in this community, maybe even to do some of what Pastor #1 is “called” to do. And, as it turns out, Pastor #2 is actually an above average speaker, above average counselor, and above average administrator. Oh my, what will happen? Since the inception of the church, Pastor #1 has said how much he loves the church and all the sacrifices he has made to make it happen. However, when the rubber meets the road, he is the one in charge.

It is really no mystery, Pastor #2 will have to go to live out his calling, after all, only one person can be the leader, right?…

Wouldn’t it be amazing to see something different in this world of church? Why is Pastor #1 the one to stay? Not because of God, but because he got to the neighborhood first! It is like the spiritual version of “called it” that my brother and I played.

I think about these things a lot because I hear stories all the time, I seem to continue to see churches replicate the same old systems of power and self-centeredness and dishonesty.

I have compiled a few other scenarios that I am still waiting to experience: (not that I really want these things, but I prefer the truth to always blaming God for our crappy decisions)

• i am anxious to hear a Christian artist (author, singer) to say “I have completed this last work, not so much because I was inspired by God, but I really need the money.
• “this is Pastor Cindy and her administrative assistant Joe”
• “we are entering a million dollar building campaign, I think Jesus would rather we give the money to starving people in Africa, but I am tired of my ass hurting and I want nicer seats.”
• “if you have struggled with the same besetting issue for more than 6 months, or have no money, please leave or at least quit asking us for help because we are tired of hearing from you.”
• “no you cannot sing a special at church, you are not very pretty.”

Perhaps my greatest disappointment with church is the fact we can feed our egos, soften our seats, and marginalize the poor simply by using God language, throwing in a little “for the sake of the Kingdom” language here and there. I would prefer we just be a bit more honest and admit, power, money & egos are huge motivators for decisions churches make. And let’s face it, in systems like these, the “least of these” will continue to be last.

this past weekend we hosted in the denver area our friends jim henderson and matt casper for a series of conversations. jim is a committed christian (small “c” on purpose, his preference) and matt is an atheist. together they collaborated on a book project, Jim and Casper Go to Church, and in the process they became friends. what a concept.

participating in these conversations over the weekend, i felt something familiar to me, that instinct when someone does not see the brilliance of our position and how we tend to react. it really does not matter if it is an atheist, republican, democrat, or most commonly just my poor, sweet wife–my instinct when someone disgrees tends to be the same.

here’s what i consider the anatomy of a fight:

1. i present the undeniable facts or truth
2. april does not respond by acknowledging my superior intellect
3. i assume she did not hear me. if she heard me, she would just say “thanks, you are so smart”
4. so i end up saying the same thing, but a bit louder
5. april makes it clear that she can hear me, but she disagrees with me.
6. i repeat the volume step (#4), but with more volume
7. april now seems to be not repenting out of spite
8. i assume that if i ridicule her, then she will somehow see how smart my idea is.

you can see how this will end. i am hoarse and april is no closer to my reality. it happened each day this weekend as matt and jim listened to what was supposed to be questions from the audience. every time, someone could not believe that matt or jim saw life or the bible or faith differently, and of course all they need is more volume. or perhaps if we ridicule the atheist or progressive christian, then they will change. of course, this was played amongst many wonderful, thoughtful & sincere other questions as well, but the volume ones really struck a chord.

i loved the weekend, the conversation. i am trying so hard to turn down the volume so I can actually hear what those who see life differently have to say. what do you sy? what are some of your perspectives on the conversation?

I am certain over the past ten years I have logged a couple of hundred hours watching someone else prepare fabulous food. I am familiar with many cooking styles and techniques, from Cajun to continental, braising to broiling. It is possible that somewhere in the dark regions of my brain I have the ability to create exotic dishes, I know I have watched hundreds being prepared, but invariably I stare into the fridge and fix the same 5 dishes every time.

I have just taken a break to eat breakfast, I am in the mountains so some survival instinct is triggered and I consume 6 times the necessary calories in case of flood or blizzard or something, and fixed pancakes. I know I have seen multiple episodes on the proper balance of flour, salt, soda, etc. I know the dangers of over stimulating the glutens and producing tough pancakes. I know this, but still I reach for the box that requires nothing more than water. If you can pour water, you can make these pancakes.

Here is my observation: I am fixed on watching someone else prepare food using ingredients I cannot find , with pots, knifes and gadgets I could never afford, in a kitchen that is larger than most of the entire homes I have ever lived in. Does watching someone else do what I feel inadequate to do, count as doing it? Am I chef because I like to watch chefs?

You may draw your own analogies, but I think there is something eerily similar to what we call being a Christian. As a faith culture we tend to primarily watch. I think if you were to analyze the most frequent activity of people wanting to be Christian, it would be watching. Watching someone else, who seems to have tools and spiritual gadgets I have never heard of, tell me how to live. How is it that in spite of all Jesus said about giving, loving, feeding, clothing, visiting, that we squandered the vast amount of our money on buildings? And have you noticed the buildings are not becoming smaller or more simple? Why? Because it allows us the best opportunity to do what we have come to believe will make us Christian–watching. We watch singing and call it worship, but that is just the set up, the appetizer, to the main dish, preaching. (I realize this is more descriptive of the evangelical church, especially those that emphasize Bible teaching versus liturgy). Ok, find me a time when Jesus said that listening to sermons was the most important thing you could do, and therefore justify the billions of dollars to accommodate that?

Watching cooking shows does not make you a chef, watching church does not make you Christian. What are your thoughts?

At The Refuge we have a high sensitivity to people who struggle with addiction. Not in the typical church sense, where the recovering alcoholic is paraded around like some trophy that shows how cool and “grace- filled” you are, and it is made clear the addict is the other person, the one you want to help. At The Refuge we have this sense we are all in the same boat, and addict or dabbler, we are all the same. But recently I have noticed that at The Refuge we have left out a silent and growing mass of addicts, and I have realized we have nothing for them.

I like to call it inspiration addiction. Like any addiction, this drug needs to be consumed in ever larger doses to maintain the high. We have created a faith culture that has confused adrenaline with the Holy Spirit. It is fairly easy to identify the addiction–“amazing” will be applied to all the movements of the service/show. For example, the worship, speaker, fog machine, light show, are amazing. I was once stuck in the lobby of a large church behind closed doors, when I wondered to someone in charge why we could not go in. He replied that making everyone wait builds anticipation and excitement. Anticipation of what? We can say God, but color me suspicious, I think it is the adrenaline rush of music that makes me sway, speaking that makes me feel, and fog lights create a sense of being part of something “incredible.” I am not saying God isn’t present in these moments, but I submit it is the fix, the high that is being promoted and everyone behind the scenes knows exactly how to feed the junkies.

I am sad today, but it will only last a few hours. I am sad because I feel I can not compete with “amazing”. I have long believed that the only proper answer to “why do you belong to that faith community?” must be something along the lines of “ I love to be with those people, who need me and whom I need, and together we are experiencing Jesus, giving Him away and growing, and becoming more loving human beings.” Whenever the answer is “I go to this or that church because of the amazing ________” (fill in the blank with anything you wish) we have become enablers to the inspirationally addicted. But at The Refuge, we have nothing amazing. No great teaching–often the most profound thing said is from some audience member. No slick program–we use for worship most weeks those friends who want to do it, not those who auditioned and have met some man-made bar of music excellence. The truth is we don’t even offer certainty, another favorite drug of inspiration addicts. At The Refuge I am realizing the only thing we can really offer is hope and long term journeying, listening more than telling, and a faithfulness to live the principles Jesus shared in every way we know how. As much as I sometimes still long for the old high, too, I am finding my inspiration sobriety is teaching me the hard but real way what it means to live an unplugged, unhyped, authentic life.

I am math illiterate. It is really with quite a bit of shame I admit it. I can do arithmetic and nothing else. To this day, I do not understand why, when in an obvious math situation, an “x” or “y” can suddenly appear? The reverse is not permissible, and I can not when grasping for the proper word get frustrated and slap a 7 in its’ place, can I?

What I remember about my math journey in school was that the other kids got it. Each class the teacher would add just a bit to the previous day’s knowledge, each student nodding their understanding. I would look alert, straining to recognize something, but it was always the same thing: as soon as the alphabet showed up I was lost. I tried, I spent time with the teacher after school, and in his presence I seemed to finally understand, but as soon as I was alone in my room, numbers and letters were mortal enemies.

I had a flash back last Friday night. I attended what we call at our faith community a House of Refuge, and this was the first night of a 3 month series on healthy relationships. I am not new to this sort of thing, I know how this is going to go, and pretty soon I will be completely lost. After 46 years is it time to admit I can not do math or healthy relationships?

I know that pretty soon the algebraic concepts of relationships will emerge, ideas such as saying what you need, expressing anger in healthy ways, boundaries and co-dependence. And I will be completely lost. I see my friends, and they seem to get it, somehow this makes sense to them. I can not grasp it. I do other things well, just as in school I appeared to be a bright student. I loaded my schedule with history and language arts, I compensated. I am good at getting people to like me, think I am smart about God and life, I have loaded my schedule with helping people. But actually being a friend? An intimate partner for my wife?

That looks like x=yx %z +\+=

An A in this class is impossible, out of reach at this stage. I am without too many of the basic concepts. But I can learn, can’t I? I am sure to fail tests and be at a complete and utter loss over and over again, but I guess this time I am leaving a little hope that maybe, just maybe, the lights might come on and something might just begin to make sense this time. A D is better than an F, right?