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Radically Normal: An Interview with Josh Kelley

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radically normalJosh Kelley and I have a lot in common. We both live in Washington state, we both have a background in the same denomination, we’re both pastors. One area we differ is that he’s a published author with Harvest House Publishers, and I’m not.

If I didn’t know how much we had in common before starting Radically NormalI would’ve figured it out pretty quick. The characters and experiences he describes gave me a profound sense of deja vu. My background is awash with hyper-spiritual, holier-than-thou types (many of which have since shipwrecked).

In Radically Normal, Kelley uses these stories as a jumping off point to remind us that many super Christians aren’t, and that the most profound thing we can do is live a radically normal life of simple obedience.

I talked to him about his book today:

In Radically Normal, you communicate the value of not hyper-spiritualizing Christianity. One example you use is late-seventies Christian artist Keith Green who was known for browbeating Christians with a militant “WHY AREN’T YOU GUYS ACTING LIKE REAL CHRISTIANS!?” message. How hard was it for you to get off the emotional treadmill created by those kinds of Christian voices?

I would describe getting off that treadmill as slow but non-traumatic. I was raised in a home that encouraged questions, so I was able to safely doubt the standard lines. After high school, I had friends asking some the same questions. Then I worked for a senior pastor who was actively doubting radical Christianity and we kind of fed off of each other.

Even still it took almost 25 years from my first question (“Is Radically Randy really God’s ideal?”) to when I finally felt completely free (that evening sweeping the Starbucks floor and realizing that hard work, in and of itself, honors God).

You describe your initial reaction to needing to get a job at Starbucks while pastoring as a bit of an emotional struggle. Obviously, it wasn’t the trajectory you imagined, but God used that time powerfully. How do you feel situations like this look differently to “radical Christians” as opposed to someone with a healthier spirituality?

Josh KelleyI think a hyper-spiritual Christian (and many of us are at least a little hyper-spiritual) would have two reactions, one real and the other a façade over it.

The real reaction is disappointment, feeling like you’ve failed God and he’s failed you. But because no one wants to feel like a failure (and we’re all afraid to accuse God of failure), we’ll give it a spiritual-sounding spin to cover the real response: “God gave me a mission to preach to all the customers who are waiting for their coffee.” If they’re especially hyper-spiritual, they might start writing “John 3:16” on the bottom of coffee cups. Obviously wanting to share the gospel is a good thing, but the problem lies in only valuing things if they sound spiritual.

I believe the healthier response would then be: “God, this is not what I had in mind and I’m struggling with disappointment. Please help me to trust you to work this out for your glory and my good. Help me work hard and glorify you in all I do, even when I don’t understand.”

What do you think drives the behavior of a “Radical Randy?” 

Good question. I am sure there are many different possibilities, including an honest, yet tortured, desire to please God. But to truly be a Radical Randy, I think one would have to be motivated by spiritual pride—the need to feel like a better Christian than everyone else. For some reason, most of us struggle with “just” being a Christian. We need to add something to it: Christian + speaking in tongues, Christian + missionary, Christian + perfect theology. Any of those things are fine, until we use them to feel like a better Christian than others.

Was there a section or concept in Radically Normal you struggled to get right?

The entire book was a struggle to find balance as I addressed both obsessive Christianity and complacent Christianity. There was a real fear of God on me lest I excuse sin as I attacked legalism. The chapters “Between Legalism and Worldliness, Parts 1 & 2” were especially tricky to write for that reason and a lot prayer went into them. I hope that by clarifying the difference between “the world” and “worldliness” I’ll make it easier for believers to be holy without being legalistic.

If the 1999 version of Josh Kelley read Radically Normal, what would have resonated with him?

Strange as it sounds, what I would’ve needed the most was simply the books’ conversational tone and self-deprecating stories. You see, in 1999 I was a brand new assistant pastor, fresh out of college, and trying very hard to make sure everyone knew how smart I was. If that Josh would have written Radically Normal, it would’ve been an impressive tome, filled with big words and complicated exegesis. In other words, boring.

But I don’t think simply reading Radically Normal would’ve been enough—God first had to work deeply in my life to help me understand that my value and identity are in him, not being a “Christian + Bible expert.” Once I got that, I could start seeking to serve others instead of wanting being served by them.

Writing a book to like you’re smart and have your act together serves author; doing whatever it takes to communicate serves the reader (even if it’s telling a story about peeing your pants).

Sometimes you read a book that challenges and compels you to action, and sometimes you read a book that says, “Hey, take a breath and relax. You’re okay.” For me, this book fell in the latter category. That’s not a criticism—more often than not, I need to be reminded that Christ’s yoke is easy and his burden is light.

If this is a message you need to hear too, pick up your copy of Radically NormalI’d give you mine, but I’m going to read it again.



Talking Feminism with Stephanie Drury

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I’d be hard pressed to choose a word that best describes Stephanie Drury. Polarizing? Embattled? Fearless? I don’t know. If you asked 100 people, you’d get 100 different answers.

Stephanie runs Stuff Christian Culture Likes (@StuffCCLikes), a Facebook page for people who’ve been hurt by evangelical culture (and there are a lot). She also runs @FakeDriscoll, a Twitter account that satirizes evangelicalism’s own pugnacious poster boy, Mark Driscoll.

Sure, she’s irreverent, sardonic, and mercurial. But I’ve also found her to be thoughtful, wise, and, at rare moments when she reveals her cards, incredibly sensitive—maybe too sensitive for the kind of battles she’s constantly embroiled in.

There’s at least one watchdog group out there cataloging her sins (and it’s not the group of evangelicals you would assume). The truth is that you don’t put irrelevant people under that kind of scrutiny.

One thing I find particularly interesting about Steph is her mirror-like quality; you look at her work and you see reflections of yourself. That’s why atheists tend to think she belongs to them and evangelicals believe her to be a Christian and call her online efforts a “ministry.” This speaks to a very special talent of hers (the kind that you might find in . . . say . . . The Simpsons) to liberally spread out her scorn. It’s not all aimed in one direction; she practices an equal opportunity form of impertinence.

Right or wrong, she’s not afraid of playing the modern Hester Prynne if the situation calls for it—and that’s the kind of courageousness we all need more of.

Drury on Feminism

She recently responded to guy who was asking a fairly good question about how men should comment on feminist concerns (even when they support them). When it comes to feminism should men be quiet? Do our opinions matter? I thought her response was reasonable, and it got me thinking about the ways that I’m a chauvinist jerk without realizing it.

I decided to go ask Steph myself. Here’s how that went:

At the end of your Tumblr response, you suggested two postures men could take that would help them recognize how they’re contributing to patriarchal culture. The first was to make space to consider ways that they have marginalized women without being aware of it, and the second was a willingness to be wrong.

What’s interesting to me in those examples is that they’re so passive—and maybe that’s what makes them so important. How do you feel when you see men self-identifing as “feminists” and trying and take up the mantle on your behalf?  

I appreciate men who want to take up the mantle for equality. I think they truly want to help and they’re doing what they know to do, which is be proactive. The tricky thing is, as necessary as proactivity is, it isn’t always what will help marginalized voices be heard. Because we live in a patriarchy, men (and women) will give more weight to men’s words than to women’s, and so many times what I say is not heard by men until another man comes and tells them the same thing. I can’t tell you how often this has happened since I started actively noticing it. I can only imagine how much it’s happened over my lifetime before I became aware of it.

So to answer your question, proactivity is (ironically) necessary to help men realize the need for passivity in regards to civil rights. And becoming aware of the need introduces the paradox of men’s need for passivity, which comes down to being aware of how the people around them are experiencing things.

I’m thinking through a million business, church, and even family meetings for times where I’ve dismissed or ignored a female voice. Although I’m positive it’s happened, I’m not sure I recognize it in retrospect. In your experience, what does it look like when it happens? I would imagine that it’s covered with layers of patronizing behavior, but what can I look for in gatherings to help me recognize it more. Are there tell-tale comments, gestures, or postures?
prizefighter

Right? It’s so ingrained it is that it’s hard to identify, and that’s also what makes it so insidious. And the gross irony is that when men talk about giving women a platform they often have a self-referential posture of “look how progressive I am being.” I see that so often in progressive Christendom. The true tell is seeing how they interact with women as opposed to how they interact with men. Just be aware of how you see it playing out in others (men and women) and in yourself. Look and see who talks more and the posture and tone they take when they speak. Women are often quieter and more hesitant and men are much more comfortable and entitled with taking the floor. Men tend to assume everyone is interested in their opinions, and it’s fascinating to see this in action once you look for it. It makes you feel like you’re living in a ridiculous parody, which is really entertaining and also really sad.

I was talking with someone about this yesterday, and he said “So what I’m hearing is, as a guy, I just shouldn’t talk.” But I would not say to “just don’t talk” at all. What I would say is to be aware of who you are with and of what others could be experiencing, and to be aware of the fact that you are already in the default position (not by any fault of your own, you were just born a straight white dude) of your voice carrying much more weight than those you are with who are not also white males.

And if you call yourself a Christian, be cognizant of the fact that Jesus modeled heartache-driven compassion in his acts of feminism. Keep that as your focus. Don’t focus on a specific mandate as “just don’t talk.” That will just make you feel like a martyr and will distract you from the true purpose of feminism, which is wholeness and equality.

I’m always blown away by the defensiveness that bubbles to the surface when men hear the word feminism. Most men wouldn’t say, “Yep, I’m a chauvinist,” yet chauvinism is everywhere. If I want to be more self aware, where do I start? How do I begin to take a personal inventory to honestly discern just how sexist I truly am?

Yeah, the patriarchy created that reaction. The empire doesn’t like being called on its bullshit so it instilled fear of overthrow for the people in power. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s really not. The patriarchy is quite Orwellian in how it’s gained ground—its deepest harm is in its subtlety.

To take inventory of our own sexism, pay attention to how you interact with women as opposed to how you interact with men. How would you respond if a woman spoke to you in the same way as that man just spoke to you? How do you feel knowing that bad driver is a man and not a woman? Are you inclined to think he’s got somewhere important to go and is in a hurry? Do you think that women is just zoning out or otherwise ditzy? That sort of thing. Pay attention to each interaction you have and observe your gut responses to people, then switch genders.

There’s a real movement (from both men and some women) to dismiss or shut feminism down. I sometimes feel that’s based on a misunderstanding of who feminists are and what feminists really want. I don’t want to put you in the untenable position of defining such a broad movement, but what is feminism to Stephanie Drury?

It’s about being truly equal. That’s all.

There you have it. A big thanks to St. Drury for entertaining my questions.

If you would like to chime in with your $.02, I’d love to hear it.


Taking Responsibility for Inherited Prejudice

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disgustIt was an incredibly hot day and I was selling Jesus junk at a Christian bookstore when she came in. She had on a pretty, eggshell-colored sleeveless summer dress and she was asking about a Donald Miller book.

And from under her arms burst more armpit hair than I had ever seen anywhere. I don’t want to be overly dramatic, but it looked like she had a 1986-era Jon Bon Jovi in a headlock.

It quite literally made me nauseous.

Let’s be honest

Hopefully I am not going to reveal any secrets or give away any genetic spoilers relating to gender here, but her ability to grow underarm hair is just as natural as mine. Right!?

So why would I expect her to present herself differently?

As far as we can tell it wasn’t until the earliest twentieth century that American women started shaving under their arms. You’d be hard pressed to find many photographs of shaven women in the U.S. prior to 1915. Some credit Canadian-born filmmaker Mack Sennett to encouraging women to shave for swimming scenes in his films.

For whatever reason, it became the norm. I’m not sure why. Is it because men like to imagine that women exist in a constant state of prepubescence? I honestly wouldn’t be surprised. Many fashionable trends seem to perpetuate a male fantasy of feminine timelessness.

How culture shapes us

It’s obvious how culture would encourage us to choose one thing over another—even something that’s completely unnatural.

If you see something enough, you begin to presume that it’s natural—and begin to question things that are completely normal. It wasn’t just the fact that I was turned off by this woman’s underarm hair that surprised me, it’s the fact that I had an actual visceral, physical reaction to it.

This is how culturally conditioned I was. (This was nearly two decades ago. I’m much more sophisticated now—I hope.)

The problem with church culture

I see this same phenomenon constantly in Christians. The environment we grow up in dramatically colors the way we respond to things, but we don’t necessarily see how much we’re conditioned.

We assume that our responses to things are informed by our faithfulness to Scripture, but it’s often shaped just as much (if not more) by our background.

When many Christians approach poverty culture, homosexuality, feminism, racial issues, or any number of topics, their internal/physical/defensive/combative reaction is often colored by marinating in a self-perpetuating stew of prejudice.

It’s not your fault that your culture of origin colors your ability to be objective. But eventually it becomes your responsibility to be self-aware enough to question it. One way you do this is by becoming a student of your physical/emotional reaction. When your response is more dramatic than simple intellectual opposition, it’s time to ask yourself why.

Why am I having such a strong response to this issue, idea, or person? Why do I feel this fight or flight response welling up in me? You’re going to find that you’re perspective is colored by cultural group-think.

Have you ever found this to be true of you? Are there areas where you’ve discovered that your strongly held feelings were more inherited than earned? Leave me a comment and tell me about it.


21 Signs You Might Be a Terrible Christian

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helpoppressedqz2I had a discussion with someone today who told smugly told me how much he loved when Mormons came to his door, so he could put them in their place. I said, “Aren’t those usually young kids just trying to fulfill their required mission?”

“Yep,” he said. “And they need to learn something about messing with a true Christian.”

It was on the way home I was thinking about this list.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely no one’s shining example of Christianity. But I still think there are some cultural examples of faith that actually hurt our cause (some would argue that blogs like this are one!). For the most part, I will admit that this is a list of things I find terribly annoying with a wonderful click-bait title (blogging wannabes take note).

You might be a terrible Christian if:

  1. You love to put Mormons/Jehovah’s Witnesses in their place when they come knocking
  2. You think the original language of the Bible was King James
  3. You’re a one-issue voter
  4. You think a banana is atheist kryptonite
  5. You have ever said, “We should just turn that place into a parking lot (or glass).”
  6. You demand that the culture caters to your holiday preferences
  7. You think Jesus is a proponent of unregulated, free-market capitalism
  8. You blame women when men lust
  9. You have a foreign policy which gives Israel an unconditional free pass
  10. You believe success and wealth are a sign of God’s approval
  11. You have an “it’s all going to burn anyway” mindset about the environment
  12. You don’t believe you have to leave a tip because you tithe (or else you leave a tract)
  13. You think you’re a scientist because you read some Ken Ham books
  14. You think your theology makes you an expert on sociology, psychiatry, sociology, anthropology, etc.
  15. You think you’re being persecuted because someone disagrees with you
  16. You think you can separate your business practice from your Christian convictions
  17. You think you’re a really good example of Christianity
  18. You think you’re exempted from Christ’s call to love your enemies
  19. You want to end abortion and welfare
  20. You laughed when Sarah Palin said, “Waterboarding is how we baptize terrorists.”
  21. You think atheists just don’t believe in God because they’re mad at him

What did I miss? Leave me a comment. Feel free to also leave comments like, “Who do you think you are Mr. Judgmental!?”, “Humility demands that I say that I’m a terrible Christian”, “When you criticize the church,” and “No one’s good except the Lord. Therefore, we’re all equally terrible.”


Rescuing Theology from White European Males

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Do a Google Image Search for the word “theologian,” and you’ll scroll through page after page of white men (punctuated by the occasional non-white Orthodox icon or otherwise out-of-place image). When we think of many of history’s greatest theologians they tend to be white European males. I don’t know why so many of my white male counterparts get so defensive when I bring it up, but they do.

I find it incredibly strange that the Bible, written in large part by marginalized, and often oppressed people would be almost entirely interpreted by their sociological opposites. One has to wonder if South African and India would have had to put up with British Imperialism for so long if there were more Africans and Indians being read by Christians.

Would the abolition of slavery have taken so long if we weren’t waiting on white guys to be the church’s conscience? Would women have voted in America sooner if the church had courted the opinions of women on social issues? How could more culturally diverse theological voices helped fill the ideological vacuums filled by Maos, Castros, and Stalins?

What could we be missing?

How would our theology be different if there were more voices being represented. Could we be missing out on important ideas and perspectives?

Just think about the metaphors we use to describe Christ’s work. The Bible does use so legal word pictures, but our dominant European theological system has commandeered those metaphors (because we’re comfortable with them—whether or not the western equivalent of those metaphors might obscure the original point) and fashioned substitutionary atonement (particularly penal-substitution).

Is that wrong? Not necessarily—but I wonder what images, metaphors, and similes we’re missing out on with this one perspective? To many in the church, to question substitutionary atonement is to question the gospel itself, but it’s really one perspective we’ve received by theological gatekeepers.

I’m convinced there are worlds of understanding we miss because we’ve limited theological voices.

Are you kidding me!?

I had a pastor tell me once that liberation theology was heresy. But come on, those are the words of one white guy to another white guy about a theology they have no need to understand.

Now when I read theologians like Gustavo Gutiérrez, I feel like I am reading the words of someone so much closer to the ache of first-century New Testament readers.

When I think about how my wife and I can experience the exact same biblical passage and walk away with such vastly disparate perspectives, it speaks volumes to me about how important all voices are to the biblical narrative. To assume that the gospel is complete when taken from one frame of reference seems entirely illogical and completely dismissive of most of the world.

But much of evangelicalism is so steeped in white European male theology that often the perspectives of others (back to liberation theology for instance) is instantly seen as suspect. Theologians from other people groups or genders are seen as having an extra-biblical agenda. Never mind the extra-biblical agenda and status quo that we’re trying to protect.

I know it’s not intentional

Part of the reason people get so defensive when you talk about this issue is because they think you’re accusing someone of intentionally marginalizing others. I don’t think it’s intentional—at least, I don’t think it’s willful. But at the point where there’s an obvious discrepancy that we’re not trying to remedy, there’s a problem.

When you look around worldwide, who has the best access to schools that will teach them theology? Who typically buys theology? Who runs most of the theological publishing houses? If you’re honest, the game is rigged. Whether we mean to or not, others are marginalized. We need to be intentional about giving others a voice.

We need to seek out other theologies. We need to let publishing houses know that we’re interested in other’s approach to the Scriptures. We need to encourage, enable, and empower a wider understanding of theology.

My interest is not just in aiding them—I know I need it.

I need voices like:

. . . and so do you.


Coming Out of the Evangelical Closet

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I’m sorry; I just forget.

I run in some pretty large circles with free thinkers and I forget what a lot of you are going through in your churches. But the recent, ridiculous Gungor flap has brought it all back home to me.

For those who don’t know, Dove-award winning Christian artists Michael and Lisa Gungor made the mistake of sharing their inability to take all the Bible’s stories literally—and they’re paying the price. The instant backlash has been deafening and vehement; venues and promoters have been dropping their concerts like they’ve converted to Islam.

I forgot about the high cost associated with transparency and honesty—even though I just wrote about this issue less than eight months ago in a post titled Christianity and the Spiral of Silence.

The evangelical closet is enormous, deep, and full of people struggling with biblical inerrancy and various doctrinal issues—but a lot of them are afraid to say anything. Too often there is a litmus test that isn’t about loving God or loving others, but it’s about views on creation, gay marriage, how literally you take the story of Noah’s Ark, etc. Because honesty often equals isolation, these closeted individuals are afraid to be open about their struggles.

What’s incredibly heartbreaking is that they have no idea that they’re not alone. This dark closet is packed with family and friends who feel the same way.

I just wanted to write a message to those who struggle and to the fundamentalists.

To the fundamentalist

I have no desire to argue with you about what is or is not true. I love you and spent many years, just like you, believing and encouraging others to believe that the Bible was 100% literally true. I’ve been where you are, and I get it.

So this isn’t about changing your beliefs. I don’t know any struggling with biblical inerrancy who are trying to convert others. They’re too busy sorting out what they believe.

Please make community a safe place for people to work through what they believe. And I don’t mean to just back off and give them a certain amount of time come around and tow the party line. I mean support them, even when you don’t understand them.

I talk to the people in your churches all the time, and trust me . . . you have no idea how many people are struggling. They won’t tell you because they don’t trust you.

Think about it like this: A husband may be able to intimidate his wife into agreeing with him, but he hasn’t won her heart. Unbeknownst to him, she has developed a secret internal life that he knows nothing about—and she resents him. He may win the battle by forcing her to tacitly and quietly agree, but he is losing the war, and quite possible her.

Because you draw a straight line from believing in a six-day creation to believing the Bible at all, you are forcing an all-or-nothing, zero-sum game. Do you understand what I’m saying?

It’s your rigidity that’s costing people their faith because you have created a game of biblical Jenga where the whole of a person’s faith hinges on the correct placement of every piece.

This doesn’t have to be a slippery slope argument. I understand that it may be for you, but you don’t have to project that upon others.

Please, I beg you, please lighten up. It’s pretty likely that someone can believe in, be redeemed by, and follow Jesus without believing in the Tower of Babel.

To those who struggle

I know it’s hard. I remember sharing with my wife that I just couldn’t believe certain things anymore, and it was incredibly difficult. At the time, she saw it as a betrayal of my marriage vows.

But this could be your spouse, kids, co-workers, pastor, people in your small group . . . admitting that your system of belief is evolving is hard and it can feel like you’re taking a beating every time you share your deepest feelings with others.

I have seen Christians cut off friends and family for the most benign admission of doubt.

Whatever you do, don’t go along to get along. I know it’s hard, but don’t fake it to fit. Life’s too short to walk around feeling like a phony. And I know to many people who have started down that road and walked away from the church entirely because it gets too hard to fake.

The other people in the closet need your courage. They need to see that there is transcendent life on the other side of their disbelief. Model transparency at all costs.

You’ll be surprised how many will understand where you’re coming from. And I can promise you, there is a more exciting and fulfilling experience of Christ when you entertain your doubts and give them a voice.

For the sake of those who have struggled like you do, please leave a comment and share some encouragement!

Cheers

 


Divorce: When the Church Adds Insult to Injury

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I was talking church with a friend over coffee, and he alluded to some difficulties in his congregation.

“Uh oh, what’s up?” I asked

He said they’d discovered that one of their elders, years before attending the church, had been divorced. He and his current wife had been members at the church for a number of years now and he was an elder in good standing, but they didn’t know if their bylaws would allow him to continue serving in that capacity. I was shocked.

I asked, “What if you had found out he had murdered someone instead?”

“Oh, then there’d be no problem.” He replied.

We both laughed, but we both knew his response was no joke.

Divorce is hard enough as it is

As most who have experienced it will tell you, divorce is a living hell. Even the ones that aren’t acrimonious are full of crippling sadness, hurt, frustration, anger, and remorse. It’s like death with no finality: death of a family, death of a dream, death of a relationship, and death of a lifestyle. It’s one of the most painful things some will ever experience.

On top of this terrible injury, the church often heaps agonizing insult:

Fault-finding—One of the first things someone going through a divorce has to deal with is the hunt for a guilty party. Jesus tells the Pharisees, “anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another woman commits adultery.” Therefore, a divorce has to include infidelity for it to be legitimate. People feel absolutely comfortable prying into the painful particulars of someone’s marriage to figure out who this unfaithful person might be, or to convince you that you have no acceptable grounds for divorce.

Ostracism—For the most part, churches don’t often come right out and say, “Maybe you shouldn’t attend here anymore.” What often happens instead is people stop calling. They stop reaching out. Once people think they have fault figured out, they’ll begin to isolate and marginalize that person. If they can’t figure it out (or occasionally even if they can), they’ll disassociate themselves from both. At your most vulnerable moment, your community disappears.

Lectures—With the best of intentions, people will give you marriage books, fill you in on snippets of sermons they’ve heard, or just give you their $.02 about what you should or shouldn’t be doing—despite their limited knowledge of the particulars.

Discharge—As is the case with the story at the beginning of this post, it’s not unheard of to have responsibilities taken from you when you’re going through a divorce. It’s not always done to ease the stress of the divorcée; instead it often feels punitive. In many of those churches, you won’t get those responsibilities back—ever.

Gossip—This may be one of the most difficult things to endure. You come to church for sanctuary and you can feel that it’s no longer safe. Everyone’s trying to figure out what’s going on and spreading stories that are mixtures of truth and fantasy. It is the most excruciating game of telephone.

Insensitivity—When you’re divorced in the church, you’re constantly privy to people talking about the divorced as second-class citizens. After Seattle won the 2014 Super Bowl, Quarterback Russell Wilson and his wife announced they were getting a divorce. Instantly, he went from Christian poster boy to Christian pariah.

Try being a divorced person in the same room where someone is talking about someone like Russell Wilson getting a divorce. Every time you hear, “Well, there goes Russell’s credibility,” you’re reminded of your status as a bad Christian.

Some of my favorites I’ve heard over the years are have been gems like:

“You’re surprisingly spiritually sensitive for someone who’s divorced.”

“I don’t judge you; I just know the value of keeping my promises.”

Can we just be reasonable?

The church values marriage. It’s not only a covenant between two individuals; it’s a picture of Christ’s relationship to the church. The church needs to build strong, healthy marriages. But there has to be a way to way to value something without resenting or hurting those who fail.

I have no question that God hates divorce. But couldn’t it be that God hates it for what it does to people? Doesn’t he hate it for the pain it causes? Couldn’t his feelings be hatred for the painfully destructive nature of a divorce and not, as we tend to assume, just indignation for people who would have the audacity to break their vows?

One thing I don’t see in Jesus is scorn for people who hurt, and people who fail. The whole reason the cross exists is because we are all, on some level, infidels and failures.

I think we can build and encourage strong marriages without heaping condemnation on people who, for whatever reason, find themselves dashed against the rocks.

This isn’t a justification for divorce

When push comes to shove, we know nothing about someone else’s marriage. I think you could go so far as say that only God understands all of the complexities that influences whether a couple succeeds: upbringing, family of origin, culture, communication styles, personalities, spiritual considerations. You can do your best to prepare a man and woman to marry, but there are innumerable ways for them to fail each other.

We need to make church a safe place to have a bad marriage. Maybe part of the problem of divorce in the church is the heights to which we idealize and standardize perfect Christian marriages. There are so many couples desperately bailing water while struggling to navigate their troubled marriages—scared to tell anyone they’re sinking.

This doesn’t make divorce acceptable by any means. It is always a tragedy. It’s ironic that many of the divorced among us are the church’s biggest advocates for the value of good marriages. They’ve seen the other side. They understand the horrors of divorce more than anyone else possibly could.

Divorce is terrible, ugly business. It’s a heart-wrenching failure.  But it’s not an irredeemable situation that falls outside the cross’ reach.

Showing the divorced compassionate empathy and tender care does not mean you condone failed marriages. 

Marriage is an important promise. Sometimes people fail. I believe we can champion the first truth while showing grace for the second.


Criticism, Conflict, and Beauty in the Midst of Pain (by Michael Palmer)

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Michael Palmer is one of the many great friends I’ve made on Twitter. If you’ve never had a chance to check out MichaelPalmer.com, you should. It’s pretty awesome. I was teasing him yesterday because his bio highlighted the fact that he loves coffee (which I constantly see in online bios). In response, he changed it being a lover of food. Totally awesome! I love him, and hope you do too. 

good-morning-vietnamWhile Robin Williams has always been an actor I admire for his work in Dead Poets Society, Patch Adams, Mrs. Doubtfire, Good Will Hunting, and What Dreams May Come, I recently discovered another of his classics: Good Morning, Vietnam.

For those who haven’t seen Good Morning, Vietnam, this film is based around a popular radio personality, Adrian Cronauer (played by Williams), as he’s brought into the Vietnam conflict in order to boost troop morale. Irreverant and unorthodox in his style, Cronauer soon makes enemies with his superiors (Hauk and Dickerson), and conflict over his creative style quickly follows.

We watch as a disapproving (and deeply insecure) Hauk consistently clashes with, and criticizes Cronauer because of his comedy and his delivery. The underlying theme of the conflict being Hauk’s belief that he alone knows what true comedy is, which in turn leads Hauk to believe Cronauer is bastardizing the art of comedy.

Wrapped up in his quest for approval, respect, and unflinching defense of comedy, Hauk attempts at all costs to silence the popular Cronauer by any means necessary.

Criticism is inevitable

Whether we take on a new project at work, accept a new leadership position, or take on an artistic or creative risk, the very act of standing out opens us up to criticism; criticism which often feels harsh and/or unfair.

This criticism can create within us doubt and death where freedom and boldness once grew. In these moments we are tempted to give up. However, criticism, be it fair or unfair, is a opportunity for personal and creative growth.

Growth we all need.

It starts with us

We have all been the critic, haven’t we? Be it criticism of a movie, song, album, painting, essay, book, article or (Fill in the blank here), we have all been the one harshly projecting our own wisdom and truth into another’s art and experience.

Recently, I visited a local modern art gallery, and as I walked through the rows of paintings, I caught myself saying things like, “It’s not art if I can do it!” or “Why would anyone spend money on this?”

My criticism dismissive of the hours and effort which went into each piece of art.

On the flip side, I remember when I published my first essay in a magazine. Like any person who creates, this essay wasn’t just a collection of words on paper- it was a personal confession. This essay was a living, breathing part of me.

I remember the hurt I felt as people criticized my handling of the topic, telling me I was wrong, cold and accused me of hypocrisy.

Criticism reminds us of the impact our own words have on others. We’re reminded, what feels like plain spoken truth to us, can often be received as harsh and cold to others. It was through these painful moments I was drawn back to the ways I unfairly criticized the work of others.

When we are criticized, especially when harshly or unfairly so, it reminds us to offer future words of critique gently and with relentless kindness. Without a doubt, in the creative life there is a need for critique and correction, however we must remember to do so with love (read: patience, kindness, humility, selfless, calmness, and with unwavering support).

When we experience the pain of criticism, it forces us to re-evaluate the ways in which we criticize. Empathy overcomes the need to be correct.

Hurting people hurt people

While not easy to see in the moment, when we are hurt by others, we forget the offending party is probably operating within their own pain. They criticize another’s art because they are ashamed of their own. They criticize another’s words because someone silenced theirs. They criticize another’s accomplishments because their ability was never publicly accepted or acknowledged.

In their brokenness, they repeat the cycle of destruction.

As a young pastor in my first staff assignment, I was asked to lead a “20-somethings” small group. In my youthful naivety, I decided that since it was an election year (2008), a discussion about the relationship between politics and the church would be appropriate for this class. (I mean, how could a religious discussion involving politics ever go wrong??)

It took exactly one session for me to be the recipient of a verbal flogging by a visitor. I was accused of many things (none of which were good, though, some of which were unfortunately true), and was told that, because of pastors like me, this person no longer attended church.

I remember, in that moment, my youthful, naivety about ministry and my personal ability came crashing down around me.

However, in the minutes, days and months that followed, I slowly learned what it means to forgive when I am the one who bears the brunt of others pain. I learned to hear the truth behind the words, while ignoring the vitriol. To take it, learn from it, and help lead the critic towards healing in their own wounds.

May criticism lead us towards beauty

Am I perfect in this? Not even close. I still unfairly criticize, and from my pain I still tear others down. However, I deeply believe that it’s a sacred task to fight this spiral of destruction. I must refuse to let my own pain dictate how I respond to the creativity of others.

As people who create, may we refuse to throw stones. May we rebel against destruction, and instead invite others into our pain. Instead, as we journey through this pain, may we offer space for life and beauty to form once more.

* * * * *

MichaelBIO:Michael Palmer is a husband, father, pastor and occasional writer. He is a Cardinals fan living in Giants country, and a lover of cultures and food.You can find him on Twitter and Facebook, and he writes at michaelrpalmer.com.



Is Christian Community a Fairy Tale?

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Sweet_hug_by_wojteq2It’s no secret that people have been hurt by the church. After all, the church is made entirely of faulty, broken people. There’s no way that it can’t be doing some damage.

But there are areas where the offense runs contrary to everything we say Christianity is about  and seems entirely inexcusable .

When talking to people about their nightmare church stories, I keep running into versions of the same story. The common denominator running through these stories is, “when I needed them, they weren’t there for me.”

The tale always revolves around different issues:

  • Loss of a loved one
  • Illness
  • Unemployment
  • Wayward children
  • Bankruptcy
  • Divorce

But the outcome’s always the same, “I was walking through hell, and no one cared.”

Shiny happy people

I wrote a post on worship a while back where I talked about how the church needs to value honesty a little more. After you’ve been around a while, you begin to hear the same verses and ideas over and over.

“This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.”—Psalm 118:24
“Be anxious for nothing . . .”—Phil 4:6

These are important verses to be sure, but they’re offset throughout Scripture with stories and verses of lament and trial. When we elevate one scriptural perspective at the expense of another, it’s easy to get off balance.

We inadvertently communicate that maintaining a trouble-free, happy demeanor in any situation is the ideal. So people going through struggles don’t necessarily communicate them, and no one else knows what to do when they do.

There’s no question that most people aren’t vocal enough when they’re struggling. Many clergy will tell you that they tend to find out too late about the difficulties that people are going through.

But we have to admit that this is the culture we’re creating—or at least perpetuating.

The snake oil of Christian community

Like an old-timey profiteer, it seems like the church is selling a tonic that will cure all your ailments, but is merely a placebo. And we keep buying into the idea of community because we’re so hungry for it.

But the truth is, we don’t want to be troubled with the expectations that community places on us. We want to belong. We want to be accepted. We want to be loved . . . but we don’t want to be bothered. We want to be able to make withdrawals from community without making deposits.

Many of us go to church on the weekend and, beyond maybe a mid-week Bible study, don’t see anyone else until the next service. It’s such a different picture than the one the New Testament gives us (Acts 2:44–47).

I have been part of many congregations who organize meals or take special offerings for those in need, and although that’s extremely important, community is truly about presence.

The greatest offense

Few things are so difficult to bear than fair-weather relationships. When you build a relationship that means a lot to you and watch it dematerialize when you need its support, it’s painful—lemon juice in a flesh wound.

It’s easy to forgive many insults and injuries, but suffering through the silence and inattentiveness of those close to you (especially if they’re constantly going on about the virtues of community) can be hard to endure—and forgive.

How to be there for someone who is hurting

1. Show up.

I can’t stress this more strongly, 90% of community is about showing up. You don’t have to have any great skills. You don’t have to possess any great biblical knowledge. You just need to make yourself available.

And you’ll probably have to “show up” often. Many of us live in cultures of distrust and alienation. We’re expected to do for ourselves and not show weakness, and we don’t know how to show vulnerability to others. So making an offer to get together with someone isn’t enough.

One of the problems contributing to a growing sense of isolation in the church is that we all say, “Hey, we should get together some time” without any real desire to. You need to be forceful and intentional about being present.

Don’t assume that someone else has it covered. Take responsibility for making sure that they have people around them and caring for them—the more the merrier.

And keep showing up. Don’t give someone a timetable to get their act together. Don’t assume a “one and done” mindset about presence. The two main components of community are presence and investment, so stay present and invested. It matters.

2. Shut up.

I don’t know why this is so hard, but it is. You don’t have to fix anything—just be there.

Listen to their laments. Let them release all the hurt and crap. You don’t need to give them platitudes, you don’t to give them magic verses, and you certainly don’t need to correct them. When someone’s hurting, they often just need a safe place to get the poison out of their system.

You don’t need to contribute to it, but that doesn’t mean you need to fix it or shut it down.

Presence is magic

I can not stress this enough: there is something medicinal about your presence.

Just having others around, having them check-up on you, knowing they value you enough to lavish their time (the world’s most valuable commodity) on you, can make all the difference in the world.

Lord, I believe in community; help my unbelief.

Win a Signed Copy of God Every Day!

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God-Every-day-picI have the same problem with devotionals that I have with gum. I’ll put a piece of gum in my mouth, chew it until the flavor disappears, and then repeat the process until the entire pack’s gone in one afternoon.

With devotionals, I’ll sit down and read them straight through instead of getting myself into the intended daily rhythm.

I had the same problem with Mike Lutz’s God Every Day: 365 Life Application DevotionsI received a promotional copy at the end of July and (after stealing it back from my wife) had read a good portion of it in a couple of days. After a while, I had to slow down because the content was so condensed I was missing the reflection this devotional really encourages.

I have found myself smiling, nodding, and highlighting it more than a few times.

If you’re looking for a good Scripture-centric devotional, these daily readings focus on getting into the Word and, more importantly, getting the Word into you.

Win a signed copy! Simply follow the directions in the giveaway, and I’ll choose a winner on Friday, September 19. If this goes to someone who lives close enough that I can hand deliver it, I’ll buy you coffee, too.

Or order your own copy today!

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Gossip: Why We Do It and How We Can Stop

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No_chatIt’s amazing how often and how forcefully the Bible discusses the issue of gossip. But, like greed, we tend to shrug off its importance to focus on more sensational and salacious sins.

But you begin to see how serious it is when you consider passages like:

“He who goes about as a slanderer reveals secrets, therefore do not associate with a gossip.”—Prov. 20:19
“. . . malign no one, to be peaceable, gentle, showing every consideration for all men.”—Titus 3:2
“But I tell you that every careless word that people speak, they shall give an accounting for it in the day of judgment.”—Matt. 12:36
“Whoever secretly slanders his neighbor, him I will destroy; No one who has a haughty look and an arrogant heart will I endure”—Psalm 101:5
“They were filled with all manner of unrighteousness, evil, covetousness, malice. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, maliciousness. They are gossips . . .”—Rom. 1:29

This is only a handful of the many verses that discuss, with great severity, the issue of gossip. What’s particularly interesting to me is that the Romans 1:29 passage falls within the same passage Christians regularly used to condemn homosexuality. In fact, in 1 Corinthians 6’s list of people who will not inherit the kingdom of God, you find “revilers” listed next to homosexuals, adulterers, and fornicators. Other translations translate “revilers” as slanderers (NIV) or verbally abusive people (HCSB).

Along with sensuality, immorality, and carousing in Paul’s Galatians 5’s list of fleshly fruits, he includes the direct byproducts of gossip: enmities, strife, jealousies, dissensions, disputes, envy, and factions. (Gal. 5:19–21)

I don’t say this to diminish whatever topic you’re fiery about, but to elevate gossip as the important topic Scripture reveals it to be. To constantly take issue with behaviors that we don’t struggle with, while ignoring detrimental conduct we’re all guilty of, says we’re not that serious about pleasing God.

What is gossip?

Gossip is the intentional and malicious destruction of a person or group’s reputation through indirect conversation. When we share information (true or not) that degrades, devalues, or diminishes someone with people who can do nothing to improve the situation, we’re gossiping.

You know you’re gossiping when you don’t want the receiving party to tell others how they came upon the information. It’s the sort of discussion you have about others that you’d never want someone having about you.

And when we do it online, it’s still gossip.

Now, there may be times when, for the safety of others, you need to publicly criticize someone. As long as it’s public and the person has a chance to respond, I don’t necessarily see this as gossip.

Why we do it and how to stop

1. Gossiping builds community

We all know this to be true. When we want a quick and easy way to build camaraderie with those around us, gossip is the key. Social bonds are easier to create out of things we collectively dislike rather than things we enjoy. I wish it wasn’t the case, but it is.

If you can give people a common enemy (or at least a common object of scorn), it helps them to get along so much easier.

How you can stop: The difficult thing about this issue is that it’s just so easy. Once you do it a couple of times, it’s easy to fall back on. It’s the perfect salve for social awkwardness, and you’ll notice before too long that the same people tend to come up whenever you’re around certain friends.

The best way to stop is just make a commitment to not let it start. First of all, it’s not real. Community built on a common contempt for someone is paper thin. Instead, build community around genuine interest in the lives of people present—that’s community that matters, and lasts.

And remember, if any group that can bond around a common disdain can just as easily bond around contempt for you.

2. We want our opinions reinforced

Some people are irritating. There’s no question about it. Sometimes we just want to hear that others are as fed up with their B.S. as we are. Once we do that, we’re back to building community on the shared bonds of negativity.

The problem is that the more you discuss the weaknesses of others with those around you the more you:

  • poison people against them
  • solidify your prejudices
  • attribute motives and meaning to their actions
  • make it harder to live at peace with that person

How you can stop: We’re encouraged to be at peace with everyone (as much as it’s up to us). So we shouldn’t go out of our way to have others confirm our reasons for not getting along with someone, as if it gives us an excuse.
Face it; there are just people you won’t get along with. That’s okay. Learning to live harmoniously with people you don’t particularly like displays an important level of spiritual and emotional maturity.

3. It’s a way we reinforce social rules

This is one of the biggest reasons there’s gossip in the church.

When we gossip about the sins of others, we’re using shame to communicate to others what is, and is not, socially acceptable. It’s how we teach tribal rules to newcomers and reinforce them with everyone else. Once you see people speaking in hushed, scorn-filled tones about someone, you’re going to think twice about committing those same infractions.

How you can stop: First of all, we need to recognize that this is completely contrary to the gospel. It’s love and acceptance that creates life-changing community. Whispered shame is a terrible motivator and a destructive habit. You want to reinforce tribal behavior? Talk up people’s strengths and encourage them when they do well.

If someone’s involved with really detrimental and dangerous behavior, bring it up to them or someone who can genuinely help remedy the situation. If they can’t, you’re just gossiping.

4. It helps us succeed socially

Gossip’s a helpful way to make yourself look good at the expense of others. If you don’t have the confidence to promote yourself based on your own skill set, it’s pretty easy to do it by tearing down your adversaries. The problem is (besides the fact that this makes you a huge loser) that you’re training yourself to look for and relish the misfortune of others.

How you can stop: Figure out what your strengths are and capitalize on them. If you can’t climb up the social ladder based on what makes you uniquely awesome, find a different ladder.

Let’s start taking this seriously

I consider myself to be a pretty big gossip, but I am committed to working on it. It’s lazy, unproductive, and I think we’re capable of more. And before you start railing against the sins of others, maybe it’s time to start taking things like greed and gossip seriously.

Do you have a story about the destructive nature of gossip—either at your hands or about you—you’re willing to share? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

Activism ADD: Moving Beyond Cause Tourism

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social media revolutionFor a couple of weeks in 2011, you couldn’t get away from the Kony 2012 campaign on Facebook. The campaign, started by the group Invisible Children, was intended to raise awareness to the Lord’s Resistance Army and its leader, Joseph Kony. There’s no question that this was a worthy cause. Kony is a notorious Ugandan mass murderer, rapist, child kidnapper, and warlord.

The goal was to create awareness through a viral video campaign (as well as t-shirts, bracelets and more) which would make finding and capturing (or killing) him an international priority.

But 2012 came and went and Kony was never caught—justice was never served.

Cause Tourism: the real problem

What I find astounding is that two years later, we never hear about it. When I think about the impassioned pleas from the hundreds of Facebook friends who plastered it all over social media, I’m surprised that I haven’t heard one of them follow up. Not one.

In fact, the campaign died on social media as swiftly as it started and just . . . disappeared.

It’s not the only issue of its kind. Remember the #bringbackourgirls movement after Boko Haram kidnapped nearly 300 schoolgirls from a Nigerian boarding school last Spring?

It’s been five months and there has been no resolution there, and much of the Western passion and interest has waned.

We, in the West, have a preoccupation with the causes and issues in exotic countries but we lack long-term focus. It’s like the West is best represented by Downton Abbey’s Crawley family talking in concerned voices about the less fortunate, while really only showing interest in what’s going to affect the Abbey and their social hierarchy.

The rise of slacktivism

Social media has empowered slacktivism, the perfect term to describe the tendency toward activities that make us feel like we’re having an impact but without offering any real, practical help. When I passionately share an update, contribute to a hashtag, or sign an online petition, I’m simply engaging in slacktivism. I am telling myself and the world, “Right this second, I am really passionate about this issue,” but it’s often a case of convincing myself (and others) that I am socially aware and compassionate. Heaven forbid that there’s a trending cause where I haven’t participated.

But here’s the problem:

If my concern only burns brightly as long as current social interest dictates, what am I really contributing? If I I throw money at a cause that’s captured my attention because of a viral campaign (the Kony campaign raised over $30 million without following through on the main objective) and then I never think about it again, how involved am I?

There are still child soldiers in Uganda and missing schoolgirls in Nigeria and it seems incredibly sad to think that for a couple of days we really cared about their ungodly plight, but then we just sort of forgot.

It’s like any other form of tourism—I was really invested when it was right in front of me, but since then I’ve moved on.

Are we saving the starfish?

I think social media provides a powerful platform for communicating and raising awareness for many of the world’s issues. I don’t fault the Kony 2012 campaign in the slightest. But is there a chance that we’re just training ourselves to hyper-emotionally respond to causes without the intent to care about them tomorrow?

There’s that old story about the beach full of dying starfish who can’t make it to the surf and the child who is running around, picking them up, and throwing them into the life-saving water. “Why bother,” asks an old man, “you’ll never save them all.”
“Well,” says the boy throwing another into the salty water, “it matters to this one.”

That’s an enduring story for a reason. Every little bit helps and doing what we can is important.

But the cause tourism version of this story goes something like this:

There was a beach full of dying starfish who could not make it to the water that would save them. A little boy saw their plight and was so moved that he began running up and down the beach yelling, “Everyone! The starfish are dying. To arms! To arms! We have to save these starfish!”
The people were so moved by the child’s passion that they, too, began to run up and down the beach yelling, “Save the starfish! We need to save the starfish!”
And then they all went to lunch and never thought about the starfish again.

The problems isn’t that we’ve tried to save the starfish and failed. It isn’t that we helped some of the starfish and were not able to help them all. It’s that we made such a show about saving them and then simply moved on with no resolution whatsoever.

So what’s the answer?

How can we respond to the cause du jour in a way that honors it?

First of all, maybe we shouldn’t base our response on the popularity of a campaign or even our emotional response. Maybe we should we should find ways to communicate about things we’re generally invested in for the long term.

Perhaps we should ask ourselves before we share a cause or issue, am I going to be invested in and concerned about this story in a month from now—even if no one else is? We could even schedule a calendar reminder for a couple months out to check back into that story and see how it’s progressing.

I honestly don’t know how we find the right balance, but I am afraid that our current level of commitment to these issues is not doing them justice.

I do know that the children and countries these causes represent deserve more than empty flash-in-the-pan activism.

I’m Grieving God? A Response to Halee Gray Scott

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jaysonheadshotI just finished reading post on Christianity Today by Halee Gray Scott entitled Slammed in the SpiritIt was a response to the tenor of the Christian blogosphere and what she sees as its negativity and cynicism.

As a writer of some of the topics she used as examples, I thought it fitting to respond to some of her questions, points, and criticisms. And from here on out, I will address them to her directly.

A response to Slammed in the Spirit

Dr. Scott,

I was super excited that you started with a nod to Mr. Rogers. I have a very soft spot in my heart toward him. In fact, I wrote a post regarding how his spirit had recently convicted and realigned me. . . but I continue to write some critical pieces about the church and her behavior.

Should we be hiding our dysfunction?

You talked about the grieving heart of God in regards to some of the criticism in the Christian blogosphere.

I totally agree that there needs to be a balance regarding the good, sensitive, and wonderful works the church is doing. It probably is unbalanced. There are wonderful Christians doing good all over the globe.

But if there is negative, hurtful behavior in the church, is God really grieved when we unveil it? Does God really want a dysfunctional family who tells the outside world, “Oh, I got this black eye from walking into a door. I’m so clumsy.”

I recoil at the thought that God is scandalized at us discussing the issues in his body.  If there are bigoted or abusive Christian behaviors, don’t they deserve to have the spotlight pointed at them.

What are we telling the rest of the world?

You wrote:

“What are we saying to unbelievers with all our mud-flinging, with the careless words we toss out to faceless Internet audiences? I’m afraid it may be something like this: ‘Yes, Jesus is wonderful! Come and join us so you can be as miserable as us, so you can have a community you can count on to bicker with and eventually stab you in the back.’”

I would respond by saying that my readership is full of church expatriates, atheists,  and people who would mark “none” on a “which religious faith do you identify with” questionnaire.

You would not believe the number of them who write me heartbreaking emails or send me powerful testimonies about how they’ve been drawn back to the church through my writing or the writing of others like me.

The fact that there are those within the church who have had the same experiences and seen the same dysfunction as they have experienced but continue to stay plugged-in and connected to her ministers and speaks to them

I think that there are those “unbelievers” who read what we have to say and hear, “The church has foibles and problems (some of them terrible), but there are those of us who aren’t afraid of those problems and we invite you to join us. You don’t have to be silent to belong.”

I think within this paragraph of yours is the idea that these “unbelievers” don’t already have ideas or opinions about the church. Trust me, they’re not out there looking at the church with complete objectivity and charity. To have someone on the inside confirm that their experiences are real, tragic, and not the Christian ideal says a lot more to them than simply using misdirection, “Hey forget that, look at the work these Christians are doing over here.”

Our terrible discourse

I am completely on your side about the level of discourse among Christian bloggers. The mean-spirited and cutting attacks can be a bit much. This is an area that I try and steer away from and have spoken out against. If we can’t critique without attack we’re forgetting that how we communicate is just as, if not more important than, what we communicate.

As someone who feels that spiritual formation is at the heart of the Christian experience, I think this is an issue that we should definitely address—and often. So I applaud and give you kudos.

And the heart of God is grieved

I think that this line about the heart of God is the one that I struggle with the most in your post. I, and many of my colleagues, are doing our best to communicate in a way that is in keeping with how we are wired and what we feel we see because of our proximity to God.

Part of the problem I see from everyone on both sides in these discussions is about when they speak on God’s behalf—God thinks this, God feels this, God hates that.

In the end, I’m doing my best to pursue God in the way that makes the most sense in the way I see and process the world. It would be terribly unfortunate for people to take a huge gospel brush and paint over the good that comes out of the Christian blogosphere—right? Other areas of the church are just as open and ripe for critique as the Christian blogosphere.

God isn’t grieved when we struggle and wrestle with the truth, who he is, and our place in the world. I think it is the working out of these issues which humanizes the church and ultimately glorifies him.

I am totally in step with the spirit of your post. Totally. Except maybe in the assumption that I’m miserable or in the discounting and marginalizing of the work I do . . . in which I feel God takes pleasure.

Peace to you!
Jayson

The post I’m Grieving God? A Response to Halee Gray Scott appeared first on Jayson D. Bradley.

My 10 Favorite Quotes from Christian Piatt’s postChristian

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postchristianI picked up Christian Piatt’s new book postChristian with a great deal of enthusiasm, and just put it down with the same feeling I get when I’ve finished a good meal, “Oh man, it’s over? I ate it too fast!”

Piatt’s introduction begins with the warning that “This book will piss you off . . .” But if you’re not afraid to ask difficult question and look unflinchingly into the abyss of American Christianity, you’ll find more comfort than frustration. Comfort because, if you’re anything like me, this book’s a stroll with a friend down roads you’ve probably traveled before.

That said, you’re going to find yourself wandering off the beaten path to see your journey in a whole new light. I found the “thy kingdom come” thread running through this book especially inspiring, and I’m looking forward to seeing how my posts evolve in light of it.

I marked up some of my favorite passages as I read it. Here are my favorite ten postChristian quotes:

1. “When we seek to avoid suffering, we end up spreading it around.”

2. “If our mercy stops at charity, we fail to address the root causes that imprisoned these people or sent them into poverty. We have to imagine a better world, in which such systematic violence and oppression cannot stand, and then we have to work tirelessly to realize that vision.”

christianpiatt3. “Much of the material wealth and power the Church has enjoyed was gained through unsavory—arguably sinful—means, and Jesus was clear about what such greed does to us.”

4. “The world doesn’t need another Christian in the sense that we’ve come to understand the word; it needs people who are seeking vehemently, individually and in relationship, what it means to be more Christ-like.”

5. “Jesus’ model of strength is to stand strong in the face of violence, to redirect the energy aimed to harm you, and to hold out hope, even in the most hopeless situation, that healing is possible.”

6. “Meanwhile, the world has gradually turned its back on a faith that claims compassion without limit and love without exception, but lives out these claims in ways that are anything but compassionate and loving.”

7. “It is not realistic to assume that the systematic corruption surrounding us can be corrected until we first correct our own corruption.”

8. “We can’t imagine what the Christian faith might look like a thousand years from now. We are too concerned with being right right now, and about propping up teetering power structures, to even reflect on something so much greater and more enduring than our own lives and churches.”

9. “We seek God within our doctrines, laws, and institutional structures, but the God revealed by Christ was in the boundary-smashing margins, in unanswerable questions, in enigmatic parables, in sighs too deep for words.”

10. “To engage your oppressor not just with the goal of nonviolent disarmament, but also with the aim of making the division between you disappear, is revolutionary.”

The thing I enjoyed about postChristian was that much of it smacked of the kind of conversation Piatt and I might have over a Guinness or two (I like to imagine every writer enjoys the same beer I do). There was more than one occasion I responded to a passage with a “well, what about . . .” but it turns out I was sitting on my couch by myself.

My daughter’s in her second year at Reed College in Portland, maybe we’ll be able to continue this conversation in next time I go visit her. What do you say, Christian?

If you’re looking for something provocative and thought provoking, postChristian might be exactly what you’re looking for.

Interested in learning more about Christian Piatt? Check out his blog, and then follow him on Twitter.

 

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Solving the 72 Hour Problem—Filling Foster Care with Hope

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happyhomepagewhiteboyToday’s guest post is by my friend and former colleague, Ray Deck III. He’s an electric and dynamic personality, and one of the few people in my life I’d call an ideapreneur (all the creativity and drive of an entrepreneur—just without the money).

I remember taking a walk with him one afternoon while he laid out this idea germinating in his heart, which has grown into Skookum Kids. I’m excited to see it coming to fruition and to give Ray an opportunity to share it with you.

Before I do, however, I want to encourage all of you to have the Ray’s tenacity to recognize a problem, consider a solution, and doggedly pursue it to completion. It’s these kinds of works which make the world a better place to inhabit. 

Confronting the foster care crisis

We have an orphan crisis.
I don’t mean in far away places.
I mean right here, we have an orphan crisis.

In my home of Washington State, there are currently 9,326 children in foster care with more entering care every day. That’s a crisis if I ever heard one.

And these kids are wounded, not just by the event that sent them into care, but by the foster system itself. Foster children display symptoms of PTSD at twice the rate as soldiers returning from overseas combat.

The time has come for some thoughtful, sustainable solution to this problem.

The 72 Hour Problem

One of the things that makes foster care so traumatic is a service gap that I call, “the 72 hour problem.”

When children enter foster care, social workers have 72 hours—3 working days—before they must appear before a judge with a plan about where the children will live. Where do the children go in the interim? There’s currently no plan.

Sometimes social workers place them in an already over-capacity foster home.
Sometimes the children are transported to the other side of the state.
Sometimes they sit in the hallway outside the social worker’s office while they work.

So just hours removed from trauma, these children are in a very vulnerable emotional state, and the foster care system has no plan for them.

It’s a huge service gap.
And I want to close it.

Skookum Kids

I’m working with a team of people to create a receiving care facility that would look after children in their first 3 days of foster care. We’re calling ourselves Skookum Kids (cool name, right?).

When kids enter foster care, rather than scrambling to buy time by piecing together imperfect solutions, social workers will just call us. Under the care of Skookum Kids children will receive new clothes, new toys, nutritious meals, transportation to a medical check-up, and probably most importantly, a safe place to rest and relax under the watchful care of trained volunteers.

With this approach, everybody wins.

If we reduce the trauma a child experiences in their first 3 days, we can set them quickly on the road to recovery.
If we give social workers the time they need to review find the right home, we can keep sibling groups together.
If we give potential foster parents more information about the children they are accepting, we can reduce the number of placement failures.

God cares about orphans

It’s clear from verses like Deuteronomy 10:18, Psalm 68:5, Isaiah 1:17, God has a soft spot in his heart for orphans. They are a priority to him. And the power of God is always applied to the priorities of God.

God is eager to work through his people to care for those 9,326 children. Everywhere I look, I see groups of believers rising up to care for foster kids in different ways.  And the best news of all . . .

You can help!

Skookum Kids is brand new. That means we have lots to do and we need lots of help. If, like me, you’ve long wanted to be involved in foster care but haven’t know how–here’s your chance.

There are 2 primary ways that you can help Skookum Kids in its mission to care for foster children.

Give

Based on the operating costs of other similar facilities, we estimate it will cost $100 for every child who spends a night in the care of Skookum Kids. The state of Washington only pays $30 per child per night. So the race is on now for us to raise the difference.

We’ve got a crowdfunding campaign up with lots of great perks available to our earliest supporters.

Volunteer

If you live in Washington State and you’ve ever though about becoming a foster parent, but hesitated because of all the red tape, consider becoming a Skookum Kids volunteer.

The training process is much faster and less invasive. And you can give anywhere from 2 to 24 hours a week based on your own availability.

Advocate

There are a lot of people out there who would also love to be involved if only they were aware of what we are doing. Help us spread the word so that everyone who wants to be involved has that chance.

For convenience, you can use the links below.
Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter

Thanks in advance! I can’t wait to see what we build together.

 

RD3Bio: Ray Deck III and his wife Keely make their home in Bellingham, Washington. When they are not looking for ways to care for orphans, you can find them gallivanting around the Cascade Mountains. You can learn more about Skookum Kids at SkookumKids.org.

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No One Asked You to Sheriff Social Media

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barneyfifeWe really shouldn’t be talking about community if we’re not advocates for reckless transparency—and we shouldn’t be imagining that’s what we are if people need to be on eggshells around us.

The community that the church is always expounding upon doesn’t exist as long as people aren’t given permission to be themselves.

The hazards of holiness

I am currently leading worship in a Nazarene church. If you’re not familiar with the Nazarenes, they’re a denomination birthed out of the holiness movement of the 1800s. They strongly emphasize sanctification and therefore have a history of stringent, and often legalistic behavioral expectations. A good Nazarene never drank, played cards, danced, went to movies, or any other activity prohibited in their congregation.

The people in these churches often were divided into sheriffs or scofflaws—and occasionally combinations of the two. The sheriffs were responsible for finding and penalizing infractions , and the scofflaws were focused on doing them without being caught.

I have quite a few friends who remember driving with their family to watch a movie two towns away. Not only could they not admit to their “community” that they enjoyed an occasional movie, they reinforced to their kids that you got along with others by keeping areas of your life a secret. I don’t have to tell you that, no matter what you say, that’s the antithesis of community.

Thankfully, the Nazarene movement has come a long way. But, like the rest of Christendom, not far enough.

Our fractured community

In many congregations, transparency is a non-issue. Lots of Christians don’t share the kind regular interaction that makes openness an issue. They come to church on Sunday and maybe attend a Bible study during the week, so there’s really no reason for them to hide anything. As long as they don’t light up or drop an F-bomb in the middle of the Women’s ministry, they should be okay.

This fractured lack of cohesiveness is precisely the reason the church goes on and on about community, and rightly so. We need to be connected more closely. But if the church wants people to realize that community is the missing piece in their lives, they can’t penalize them for being themselves.

How social media bridges the community gap

Despite its flaws, social media is bringing community back to the church. Now instead of heading home on Sundays and being entirely invisible to each other, we have been given this portal to gaze into each other’s lives. It might not be perfect, but I do know a lot more about people in my congregation than I might know otherwise.

It’s been a great way for me to find common ground and interesting fodder for conversation when I see them at church. I’m a little anxious in social situations, and having natural segues into conversations like, “How’s that new job?” or “Your new porch looks really great,” has made it easier to connect with people when I see them.

But I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen the sheriffs threatening even this entry-level form of community.

Are you sure it’s God who disapproves?

As anyone on Facebook can will tell you, you don’t agree with your friends about everything. But while you can disagree with friends without risking relationship, it doesn’t often feel that way with other Christians on Facebook.

Somehow adding the God-factor into the equation, ups the ante. Now it seems there’s always a risk of offending someone’s deeply held convictions. I have quite a few friends who are very particular about the people from their church who they’ll friend on Facebook because it’s created too many hassles. They just get tired of dealing with:

  • Uninvited criticism
  • Updates that get blown out of proportion
  • Gossip circulating about something seen on their wall
  • Comments like, “How can you call yourself a (pastor, worship leader, youth leader, Sunday school teacher, etc) and say/post/like that!?”
  • And more

(Mind you, I don’t really blame others for blowing someone’s passive-aggressive posts out of proportion. Some people need to learn that covertly airing their dirty laundry on social media is inappropriate and relationship damaging.)

For me, the biggest issue here is that we think we need comment on or correct everything we don’t like or disagree with. There’s maturity in not feeling the need to fix everyone around you. Your convictions aren’t invalidated about things like politics, music, swearing, alcohol, or religion, just because others don’t share them (and they’re not really legitimized when you bully someone into agreeing with them, either).

If we’re going to be serious about community, we need to be doubly serious about accepting people where they are. This doesn’t mean that everything that you see on social media is good, right, or acceptable, it means that you have not been deputized to fix it.

Here’s the problem: if I post a picture of a friend and I out having a beer and you get upset about it, you might get me to stop posting those pictures—but you haven’t reformed my behavior. All you have done is damage community.

Maybe I shouldn’t be drinking, but you have set yourself back in fostering the kind of relationship that would allow you to tell me so. I assure you, the acceptance of a friend request is not a license for judgement; it’s a willingness to get to know you better and a gracious offer to let you see who I am and what I am passionate about.

Addressing the caveats

There are two voices that I can hear in my head as I write this, and I want to quickly address them:

1. Aren’t we supposed to speak the truth in love?

Yes, but a lot of the time the “truth in love” we’re exposed to is neither truth or love. It’s personal conviction delivered in a way that tells me that my value is contingent upon getting with your program. So if you’re going to jeopardize our relationship because you feel the need to speak the truth to me, please make sure it’s the truth and not just your strong opinions on the matter.

Your ability to speak the truth in love hinges upon relationship and tactfulness. The closer we are and the more you’re able to approach me in a way that’s not threatening, the more impact you’re going to have. Don’t waste your one shot by typing some dumb, terse comment on a status update.

2. But what if you’re causing others to stumble?

1 Corinthians 8:13 is one of the most misused Scriptures in the New Testament. Due to the length of this post, I’m going to have to assume some familiarity with the verse, or at least the idea.

The problem is that this becomes verse becomes a noose when it’s applied to every situation. While we shouldn’t flaunt our freedoms, we shouldn’t be expected to give them all up because someone somewhere has a problem with it. I can’t refuse to let my daughter wear sandals because you never know who might have a foot fetish. That is not liberty.

So please don’t use this verse as an opportunity to insinuate yourself into the business of others.

The social media revolution is an incredible opportunity to relearn how to love each other and enter into community. Don’t squander this opportunity for the church by feeling the need to police it. If you find you just can’t do it, you can unfollow them without unfriending them. When you feel a little better about letting people be themselves, you can give it another shot and, hey, no harm done.

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When Jesus Freaks Are Control Freaks

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puppeteerThere’s just no way around it. If you’ve been part of a small church, you’ve likely experienced those individuals or families who just can’t help themselves—they have to control things.

They might not be in leadership—in fact, they’re often not—but they still seem to steer the organization.

Most of the time they have the best of intentions. Sometimes the influence they wield moves the church in positive directions, but most of the people I’ve talked to have experienced more than one major upheaval or church split based on the impact of these people.

Survey on Church Controllers

Curious about how universal my experiences were, I did a quick survey for others who have experienced this phenomenon. I only received about 50 responses, so it’s definitely not scientific. But I thought the feedback was still pretty interesting.

Here are the questions and the responses:

In the church where you’ve experienced a family(s) or individual(s) jockeying for control or position, what would you say was the approximate average attendance?

  • 70–100: 29%
  • 100–200: 29%
  • 200–400: 21%
  • 400–800: 15%
  • 800–1,000: 0
  • 1,000+: 6%

This was not surprising to me—except for the people who had experienced this in the 1,000+ member church. It only makes sense that the smaller the church is, the more influence a person or small group is going to have.

It would seem that the power would be defused in a larger community. I’m curious about how this would manifest itself in a larger congregation. Control in small groups? The swaying of leadership?
If you’re one of the people who answered 1,000+, I’d love to hear about your experience!

What kind of history did this group or individual have with the church?

One thing I was curious about was the correlation between time spent at a church and control. It makes sense that if a person invests years somewhere, they’re definitely going to feel a sense of responsibility in the decisions that are made.

It also makes sense that people would naturally defer to someone who has a history in their church.

  • 20+ years: 52%
  • 15–20 years: 18%
  • 10–15 years: 6%
  • 5–10 years: 15%
  • 1–5 years: 9%

This is exactly what I expected. Control is often in the hands of the people with the longest history.

When you think of this group/person, you tend to think they:

  • Were intentionally manipulative and power hungry: 56%
  • Had the best of intentions and a good heart(s): 32%
  • Had no idea how much influence they wielded. 12%

This one actually surprised me. I tend to think that even the worst stuff is done by people who believe they’re doing the best thing. The large number of people who see this behavior as manipulative and power hungry is important to recognize.

It really doesn’t matter how righteous and well-intentioned you are—in the end, people might not be giving you the benefit of the doubt. When someone’s agenda is continually getting railroaded through, people start feeling wary and resentful.

What gives this group/individual their influence?

When it comes to church, people generally have the influence that others give them. So what is it about these individuals that makes others acquiesce?

  • Their history with the church: 36%
  • The size of their financial contribution: 12%
  • Their relationship with leadership: 21%
  • Their charm: 0%
  • Their forceful personality: 31%

The longer someone is with a church, the more others tend to bestow on them the role of patriarch. This is an easy thing to manipulate and take advantage of. People will defer to the patriarch when he/she tells them, “This will never work because . . .¨ Often the patriarch can carry more influence than the clergy.

Another third of the people surveyed said that controllers tend to use their forceful personality to get their way—I’ve seen this many times. Nice people tend to show their throat pretty quickly to the strong-willed, outspoken, and forceful individual. Most of the time it feels like it’s just not worth the trouble to stand your ground, and face it, aggressive people can be intimidating.

What kind of fallout did your church experience because of this group/individual?

This was the only question I allowed people to give multiple answers to.

  • People were strong-armed into ministries and giving: 35%
  • Staff or leadership were forced out: 41%
  • People left: 85%
  • The influential person/people left: 8%
  • Ministries, purchases, or tasks were railroaded through: 47%
  • Church split: 15%

Nearly every person surveyed had experienced people leaving their church because of these controlling individuals, but in only 8% of the churches did the controller leave. It’s a a sad truth that I can confirm from my own experience. People will rollover pretty easily for a forceful personality, but they won’t stick around for it. An aggressive person might get their way in the short term, but the long term damage to the organization hurts.

Also, it’s interesting that nearly half of those surveyed experienced the leadership being forced out. This seems to be one of the major church power plays.

True or false: Gossip played a huge part in how this person/group centralized power.

  • True: 44%
  • False: 29%
  • Unsure: 26%

I’d be surprised if most of the “unsures” and a few of the “false” answers weren’t actually “true.” From my experience a lot of these situations look like this:

Something irks the controller, and he/she comes home and confides in their spouse. This goes on for a while and builds in intensity until the day when they’re having a BBQ and let it slip with a family member or friend at the church . . . and then another . . .and then another.

The exact moment they’re doing wrong is kind of opaque. Is it wrong to talk to your husband or wife about your frustrations? Is it wrong to share it with someone close to you? Eventually the controllers have people campaigning for their opinions or desires. Centralized power in churches often begins with whispers.

Some closing thoughts

Obviously this little survey is more about the perceptions people had about their experiences more than it is about cold, hard facts. But it’s still important to consider. I know a lot of people who’d be considered controllers, and they have really good hearts. It’s their passion that will make them go through the church directory and phone every. single. person to ensure that their program succeeds.

And every controller would probably read this and think of someone else it applies to.

If you’re a controller, you might want to think through how your behavior is perceived. A lot of people leave and churches split because how they perceive behavior rather than the intention behind it.

I’ve seen some of the biggest servants I know get labeled with the “control freak” tag simply because they were always the first person to offer to help.

It’s important for patriarchs and servants to hang back and enable others to step up, even when no one will. The more you step up, the more you train others to hang back and let you—at the same time they’re resenting you.

Lastly, I would say that it doesn’t do anyone any good to let forceful, aggressive people get their way all the time. They probably don’t realize they’re being pushy, and even if they do, reigning that aspect of their personality in might be a struggle for them.

Sometimes it’s our desire to avoid conflict that enables controllers to fill the vacuum. We need to be more committed to each other and more willing to go to the mattresses over some issues.

Now I want to hear your thoughts. Have you experienced the control freaks? Are you one? Tell me your stories!

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10 Christian Examples of Classic Logical Fallacies

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Daniel_Huntington_Philosophy_and_Christian_ArtYou can’t seriously tell me that you’re interested in pursuing the truth without being open to the idea that there are areas where you’re wrong. Sharpening your beliefs against the beliefs of others is a powerful way to put your own precepts on trial.

It takes discipline to not to believe everything you hear, while being pliable enough not to simply dismiss others’ ideas.  This is why healthy debate can be a valuable thing. Again, that’s if you’re willing to entertain the idea that you’re the one off the mark.

I touched on this in a post entitled, What Would It Take to Admit You’re Wrong?

Healthy Debate: The Lost Art

Unfortunately, I don’t see a lot of healthy debate—in myself or others. When it comes to what we believe, we tend to be pretty defensive. Our fear of looking foolish often trumps our sincere desire to wrestle with ideas. You seldom hear (or read) comments like:

  • “Oh wow, that’s an interesting point. I’m going to have to think about that.”
  • “That statistic really adds another element to this discussion.”
  • “You know what? I really don’t have a response.”
  • “I can totally see how you came to that conclusion.”
  • “You might be right.”

I think there are some factions of Christianity that make reasonable debate nearly impossible. Because eternity rides on every argument, there’s not a lot of room for concessions. I’ve used the term before, but I really think that theological Jenga makes an honest give-or-take debate difficult. Every belief hinges on another, and there’s a fear that pulling the wrong block could topple the whole an entire system of belief.

I don’t know how often I have had someone say, “Well, if I can’t believe that [principle, interpretation, theology], I can’t put my faith in any of it.”

Christian Logical Fallacies

In many discussions (online or otherwise), I will see people of this persuasion aggressively trying to corner people on arguments I not only recognize, I’ve used. Many of them fall under classical logical weaknesses. Here are a few of them.

If these are your go-to arguments, you should consider cutting them out. Not just because they’re weak, but because they’re stopping you from hearing ideas that might actually be true.

1. Ad hominem:

This is an attempt to discredit someone by attacking their character or unrelated beliefs instead of the argument at hand. This is a classic bait and switch where you never even have to argue your position. If you can discredit the source, the argument falls, right?

But think about that a second? For an ad hominem argument to work, you have to be flawless yourself. You can’t have areas of fault in your character. You can’t have any other beliefs that are wrong or misguided.

Example: “You know that guy you quoted believes in evolution—don’t you? I can’t believe you’d entertain the ideas of someone who obviously doesn’t care about the truth.”

2. Argumentum ex silentio:

This is the good, old-fashioned argument from silence. It basically appeals to ignorance as evidence. The thing that makes it annoying is that it pretty much works for both sides in a religious debate.

Example: “Well . . . you can’t prove that God doesn’t exist.”
“Well . . . you can’t prove that he does.”

3. Appeal to faith:

I want to be very careful here because faith is important to me. A great majority of my spiritual beliefs are ideas I hold by faith. That said, to appeal to my subjective faith to make an objective claim is really a no win situation.

When I tell someone that they can only understand where I am coming from if they have faith—no matter how much I believe it—sounds to them like, “Hey, it totally makes sense if you pretend it’s true.”

Example: “You really don’t understand that my argument is true because you don’t have the faith to see it.”

4. Argument from authority:

I don’t think anyone will be surprised to hear that Christians base a lot of their arguments on the basis of biblical authority. I completely understand. The Bible has great authority in my life, too.

But to appeal to biblical authority with people who don’t accept the Bible as authoritative is silly. It is the worst sort of circular logic, and it usually makes the person you’re debating with dismiss you.

I’ve also seen this used to little avail in debates between Christians where the authority they appeal to is a celebrity Christian, denominational stance, or personal interpretation. I got to say, while you and I may agree about the authority of the Scriptures, we can disagree about an interpretation. So it’s best not to default to your interpretation as the authority.

I recently saw this in an epic Facebook debate where the antagonist was claiming to give the protagonist the “full counsel of Scripture.” This meant that her interpretation was authoritative and faultless.

We can discuss your interpretation, but don’t assume that because you say that you’re speaking for God that I’m going to agree.

Example: “Of course God preordained who would be saved, it’s in the Bible. You can disagree with me, but you’re also disagreeing with Scripture.”

5. Argumentum ad baculum:

The Latin here literally means, “argument to the cudgel” or appeal of the stick. It’s the argument you see pulled out when you want to overwhelm your opponent with what could happen if they don’t agree with you. We could call it the Left Behind argument, “If I’m right, we’re all going to disappear in the blink of an eye and then the tribulation starts. You don’t want scorpions to feast on your face, do you?”

Example: “You know, a real smart mathematician named Pascal explained it this way, ‘If I’m right, you could die and go to hell. So you might as well believe. Because if I’m right, you won’t have to go to hell, but if I’m wrong, no harm done.”

6. Confirmation Bias:

This is the appeal to information that confirms what you already believe while ignoring what doesn’t. We all do this. There isn’t a person among us that doesn’t cherry pick information  we agree with and appeal to statistics and narratives that confirm our already set ideologies.

This is a hard one to prove in an argument because usually it’s behind the scenes coloring the conversation in ways that we can’t necessarily see. But occasionally you’ll run into online debates that have devolved into crazy cut-and-paste parties. When you check their sources you begin to see that their just googling their argument and stealing the more compelling arguments of people who agree with them.

*Yawn*

Example: “You know this statistic proves that . . .”

7. No true Scotsman:

Anthony Flew came up with this phrase in an analogy that went something like this: a Scotsman’s reading a story about sex crimes in England and his response is “No Scotsman would ever do such a thing.” When confronted with even worse crimes actually being committed by a Scotsman, he responds, “Well, no true Scotsman would ever do that.”

It’s the classic attempt to distance yourself from the behavior of someone in your group by excluding them from it.

Example: “Yes, I know all about the Crusades, but no real Christian would ever do anything like that.”

8. Red herring:

During fox hunts smoked herring was used to distract the dogs from the scent of their prey. A “red herring” is used any time we take a debate into a whole new, unrelated direction.

This happens all the time when proof texts are dropped into an argument. It doesn’t take too long before the conversation rabbit trails into a discussion about the context or interpretation of that verse and away from the actual topic being discussed.

Example: “. . . that’s not what God thinks about abortion . . .” *excuses self and sets bathroom on fire*

9. Slippery slope:

This is my least favorite form of debate sorcery. It’s when an argument is discounted because of an appeal to imagined consequences.

Example: “If we allow marriage equality then the next thing you know people will be marrying their sisters and pets.”

10. Straw man:

This is one of the most common fallacies used in any debate. It basically comes from the idea of creating an easily destroyed caricature of your opponents beliefs—and everyone does it.

When I read Dawkin’s The God Delusion, it was constructed almost entirely of straw men.

But we do it too. God’s Not Dead based its whole premise on the straw man of the atheist who really just hates God.

Example: “You don’t believe in God? So you obviously think that everything happens by random chance and we just evolved from tadpoles?”

What are some debate examples you could stand to hear (or use) less? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!

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5 Reasons Pastors Need to Refer to Counselors Faster

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helpThere are very few pastors who are trained to be counselors (and I don’t count the “biblical counseling” classes you took at seminary). I can tell you from my own experience, counseling is tricky business and, as much as possible, should be entrusted with people who have been trained to do it.

Here are a five reasons I think it behooves pastors to more quickly refer people under their spiritual care to actual counselors:

1. Counseling can be a huge ego stroke for a pastor

As often as we’ll tell you how difficult it is to be at everyone’s beck and call all the time, it can be incredibly flattering to feel needed. In a job that often feels so inexplicably tied to making mind-numbing and super-nonspiritual decisions, it’s nice to feel like your insight and input is important.

This is what you got into ministry for, right? To be intimately involved in the lives of the people in your care? To give them the benefit of your spiritual understanding and wisdom? These questions might sound facetious and sarcastic, but I assure you they’re not.

For a pastor, sometimes that one-on-one time with an individual can make you feel valued, important, and validated.

The problem is that these feelings can often mask the fact that we’re getting nowhere, and we end up on a treadmill that’s just as unhealthy for us as it is for the people we’re “helping.”

When you consider the fact that this counseling relationship is often meeting a felt need in the other individual to have someone listen to and take them seriously, you can see that you have the perfect recipe for a long, fruitless relationship—or worse.

These drawn-out unhealthy “counseling” relationships, because they’re meeting both parties emotional needs, can often spiral into spiritual abuse, emotional or physical affairs, messiah complexes, eventual blow ups, or more.

2. Pastors aren’t often prepared to diagnose legitimate mental health issues

Ask your average pastor what their rubric is for referring a congregate to an actual counselor, and most will stammer out a made-up response. Because most of us, if we’re honest, haven’t defined the actual point that it’s best to get someone together with a real-live therapist.

Because of this, the unhealthy relationship drags on and on.

Church staff need to have an accepted pastoral formula for dealing with counseling. Maybe a pastor meets with someone a couple times just to hear them out, pray with them, and give them spiritual direction—but after that, they’re referred to a professional.

You might feel like you’ll know how to spot issues that need professional intervention, but I assure you, a large majority of pastors are not equipped to see the larger iceberg under the surface of whatever issues are being discussed. And they’re not equipped to ask the right kinds of questions to draw it out.

It’s not a failure on your part to refer to a professional—in fact, it might be the most compassionate thing you can do.

Please note, it’s very important for churches have a way to help people get the help they need in a way that isn’t going to break their bank. I think it would be compassionate if churches passed on some of the lifestyle purchases we’re known for and put money away to help people afford the professional help they might not be able to get on their own.

3. In-house counseling can be incredibly draining

One thing psychologists, psychiatrists, and counselors can do that pastors aren’t equip to is set firm boundaries. A lot of pastors (especially those in smaller churches), are run ragged by the needs of just a couple of individuals.

They’re the “nuzzle the shepherd” pastors  whose time is poured out on the sheep that keep butting at them for attention. We’ll complain about the 3 a.m. phone calls at the same time we congratulate ourselves for being so important—and available.

Most counselors don’t have this problem. They are trained to set boundaries and know that the health of those in their care is often tied to the setting of those boundaries. Your constant availability is hurting you and the person you think you’re helping—not to mention the damage you’re doing to the important but less “urgent” areas that aren’t getting your attention.

Whenever I watch the classic Bill Murray/Richard Dreyfus movie What About Bob, I see a situation I have lived in countless different ways as a pastor—most of them ending just as disastrously.

4. Biblical counseling can do more damage than good

Not only are pastors ill prepared to diagnose mental health issues, the “training” they have received has often come from the Christian version of pop-psychology, self-help books.

I remember going to a pastor for marital counseling and most of the insight came from various Dobson and Rainey marriage resources. I mean, they came directly from those books. From the pastors mouth I heard direct, unattributed quotes from these resources.

The issues here isn’t that those resources aren’t bad, per se, it’s that they were applied to my marriage like band aids. The difference between being trained in counseling and reading books about counseling is that the counselor incarnates the training he/she receives while the reader of counseling books learns aphorisms and theories—which may, or may not, be tried and true.

In the 90s, you couldn’t get away from Neil Anderson books like Victory Over the Darkness and The Bondage Breaker.  These books caused so much damage as pastors began applying their principles to people under their care for any and every malady. It didn’t matter what the problem was, it could be fixed by discovering who you are in Christ and standing against the demonization you were clearly experiencing.

Don’t get me wrong, there can be a lot of good done by applying spiritual truths to issues like anxiety and depression, but they often need to be a supplement to other mental health care. Scripture is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness (2 Tim. 3:16), but it’s not a salve for people who are bipolar or suffer from depression, pedophilia, dissociative disorders, etc.

If you’ve spent any time in pastoral care, you’re familiar with books that give you Scriptures to read to people based on the issues they’re having. This is an extremely unhealthy, fast-food approach to pastoral care that leads me to my next point:

5. People need spiritual direction

One thing that would help with this issue that evangelical clergy could do so much better is to major in spiritual direction. What people are needing is not so much biblical verses applied to current events, ways to expand their territory à la Jabez, or as a roadmap to discover their best life now; they need to learn and recognize the voice and presence of Christ in their lives.

Too often we see the job of clergy to be that of the Holy Spirit: fixing, convicting, challenging, pushing, and prodding. Seldom are we equipping to people to read Scripture and see their own lives through the lens of “where is Jesus here?”

To help people focus on discerning the individualistic movement of God in their lives and develop a path to spiritual formation, gives them tools that won’t run contrary to getting mentally healthy in other ways.

We need to be careful not to see pastoral care as a one-size-fits-all care that makes the abundant life look the same for everyone. The law may be easy to apply to everyone, but it leads to death. Jesus sends the Holy Spirit to have a very specific, and creatively dynamic relationship with each individual under our care. They benefit so much more from having us come along side to help them recognize the Spirit’s voice than to apply Scripture in haphazard and pre-prescribed ways.

If we’re serious about the soul care of the people in our churches, we will be quicker to help them find the help they need and not be afraid to recommend them to get that help. It’s not a sign of our failure to be helpful, it’s proof that we’re serious about the mental, physical, and spiritual health of the people Jesus loves.

The post 5 Reasons Pastors Need to Refer to Counselors Faster appeared first on Jayson D. Bradley.

What If I Don’t Have a Dramatic Testimony!?

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We sure love an exciting conversion story. We may be able to bicker about the existence of God or the Bible’s validity all day, but it’s hard to counter a dramatic story of deliverance and newly discovered freedom. A powerful testimony cuts right to the heart of the Gospel.

But I don’t have an exciting conversion story?

conversionThere are a lot of people whose stories are about becoming Christians as children through parents, Sunday school teachers, or youth programs. They didn’t have to overcome obstacles, sins, or addictions.

Many Christians wish their tale was full of more sensational episodes and juicier bits. I shared my ideas for this post on Facebook and one friend told me, “I actually made up my testimony once. I felt inferior for having a boring story.”

Your testimony is not a handicap

Sometimes God does sensational things.

In the ninth chapter of Acts, a murderous Pharisee named Saul is on his way to Damascus to persecute some Christians. God knocks him to the ground, blinding him. This Pharisee becomes a Christian and ends up writing a majority of the New Testament. We know him as the apostle Paul.

Stories like this energize us, but they’re not the only stories.

Consider how Paul describes Timothy’s faith:

“I remember your genuine faith, for you share the faith that first filled your grandmother Lois and your mother, Eunice. And I know that same faith continues strong in you.—2 Tim. 1:51

If you asked Timothy about his testimony, he probably would have shrugged. His story wasn’t a huge, dramatic event . . . he was a child raised in a faithful family. And the church desperately needs those stories, too.

The church needs drama and faithfulness

The church’s job is to introduce people to Jesus, and equip people how to follow him. This means that we need both kinds of stories. We need thrilling stories of lives transformed and we need to see the outcome of faithful lives.

The healthier our churches, the more these sorts of stories will be in balance. Today’s dramatic conversion story will become tomorrow’s testimony of families who have faithfully followed Jesus. Faithful believers then introduce others to Jesus.

It should be a naturally occurring, organic cycle.

The story you tell, and the story you write

Don’t be self-conscious about meeting and following Jesus as a child. What feels like a lackluster story to you, is an actual testimony to someone else who was faithful. Someone cared enough to model and share Jesus with you as a kid—that’s important.

The church needs to experience the everyday reminder that obedience matters. This makes your story so important.

Besides, your biography doesn’t end when you get saved. It’s only the beginning. If the most dramatic story you have to tell about your faith is how you discovered it, you need to get busy.

We should be living so courageously that we have tons of stories about how Jesus came through for us. There’s plenty of room for every one of is to have a powerful and dramatic tale about how God saved or directed us.

So, tell your story with pride, and follow Christ with reckless abandon. You might not have a dramatic conversion story to tell, but you just may be essential to someone else’s.

The post What If I Don’t Have a Dramatic Testimony!? appeared first on Jayson D. Bradley.

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