I have been exposed to a steady stream of partial information, mis-information, skewed information, facts and factoids, and a boatload of filtered and fabricated mythology about a country torn apart, divided, dis-integrated, and living in distress.  Families separated two generations ago that to this day cannot be reunited without unbelievable sacrifice and hardship.  My ignorance of the situation is much greater than my perceived knowledge.  I mean, I know the Koreas are still “at war” — armistice is a far cry from peace, and a peace accord has never materialized, ending the Korean War.  The need for a peace treaty is critical.  And our current sanctions against North Korea are hurting all the wrong people.  The sanctions are the most unChristian acts of a supposedly Christian country.  None of these opinions have been impacted by this conference — other than to pump up the sense of urgency.  No what I take away from this time is a clearer understanding of all the ways it has not been in our interests to end this conflict — we are making WAY too much money to actually work for peace.  The demonizing and vilification of North Korea as a media coup is even more sickening than I expected.  “Axis of Evil” anyone?  Bad judgment and ignorance gets painted as insanity and evil — a much more compelling vision that keeps the misinformed flock glued to the news channels.

Our current “foreign policy” destroys as much as it builds, and it is motivated by greed, power and control — not ethics, morals, or peace-making/mercy-loving values.  But, see, here’s the rub.  In a situation of geo-political strife and division there is no such thing as a “simple solution.”  Repeatedly, the question was raised at this conference, “why are we making this so hard?”  Well, we are and we aren’t.  The bulk of the Christian coalition gathered here to confer on peace assume a base-line of peace, patience, love, compassion, mercy, justice, kindness, healing, and foundational civility and respect.  Bad assumption.  We cannot even agree on these values within the Christian community — who are we to impose them on others?  Is there such a thing as an “imposed peace?”  If one side gets to set the terms and define the parameters, that isn’t peace.  If the only way to get along is for everyone to fall in line with one way of thinking, well, it’s no wonder we can’t find peace (let alone “make” it).

The best part of this conference time was the intentionality by which no one was labeled “good guys” or “bad guys.”  For the Korean peninsula, there is no “us/them,” just a broken all of us.  The dominant U.S. media caricaturing of “evil North/blessed South” makes any progress harder.  Guess what?  There is a “bell curve” on both sides of the DMZ (demilitarized zone) of bad-to-good.  Our penchant of comparing the bad on one side to the good on the other is simplistic, stupid, and destructive (demoralizing, volatile, violent, mean-spirited, petty…).

There are some human nature issues we never adequately address.  First, we don’t really want to love people we don’t like.  Second, we do not want anyone else gaining a greater benefit than we receive ourselves.  Third, we like feeling superior to others.  Fourth, we don’t like it when others are happier than we are.  Fifth, we are always looking for no-cost sacrifice.  Sixth, we value comfort over goodness.  Seventh, we like those most like us the best.  Eighth, we dislike anyone who inconveniences us.  Ninth, we like getting and having more than giving and doing without.  Tenth, I could do this all night — there is no end to such a list.  Face it, we only like the parts of the gospel we like — we ignore or argue with the rest.

Peace-makers may be blessed, but this is because they are so few and far between.  We place so many conditions on who we will love, accept, tolerate, include, forgive, and believe that we make unity, harmony, reconciliation, healing and peace all but impossible.  And we hold so many divergent opinions on what it means to be “Christian” that our witness is suspect at best.  Last week I spoke to a pastor who said quite sincerely that the ONLY pathway to peace required enough guns and bombs to bring our enemies into submission.  This is an unique or rare opinion.

I cannot change anyone else.  That’s not my job.  I can only work on myself — and work with those who share my vision of a more just and loving world.  By definition, this means I am working against others.  Each time I call for love and acceptance of gays and lesbians, I am in opposition to those who disagree.  When I talk about the hateful injustices done to many Palestinian people (actual friends and acquaintances) I find myself angering those who are incredulous at my ignorance.  My heartfelt belief that we have an obligation to care for the poor and marginalized is deeply offensive to those who cannot believe my liberal B.S.  In all these things, I can only state what I believe and work to bring my actions into alignment with my beliefs and words.  I wish we could all get along and, in those places where we disagree, seek creative third (fourth, fifth) alternatives that bring us to a place of alliance and cooperation instead of staying stuck in our passionate impasse.

So, I pray.  And I work really hard to accept people where they are and take every opportunity to speak “my truth” in love.  And even so, I must confess, I still think we could work this all out — if everyone would just think the same way I do.

I lead a workshop called “Maturing in the Christian Life.”  One exercise we do examines the multiple lines of development that comprise the whole person.  Focusing on just seven lines, we examine the developmental process from “less mature” to “more mature” for each.  The Cognitive line is about what we know, how we learn, functional intelligence, and critical thinking.  The Affective line measures our control of emotions, reactions, responses, feelings and biases.  The Interpersonal line is all about relationships, social engagement, civility, compassion, and connection to community.  The Moral line assesses sense of right and wrong, justice, mercy, and implications of actions and behaviors.  Spiritual is about relationship with the divine, core beliefs and rituals, worldview, and metaphysical grounding.  The Physical line measures health, wellness, diet, exercise, balance and overall commitment to healing and wholeness.  The Material line focuses on our relationship to “stuff” — things we possess and things that possess us, our general stewardship of creation, and our generosity.  Obviously, each of these lines is part of every human being, and we are all in different places at different times in different ways.  Each person is a complex matrix of relationships and reactions.  An individual might be highly developed (“more mature”) cognitively and physically, yet be a narcissistic mess relationally and morally.  Some spiritual giants are physical wrecks.  Highly popular and well-adjusted people can be greedy and crass.  Just because a person is highly developed in one or two areas says nothing about the other areas.

When I lead the workshop/retreat, the point I make is that the highest form of spiritual maturing is one that includes all the lines and expects positive movement along each.  Rarely does this happen by accident.  Growing up is hard work.  Improvement is rigorous and demanding.  Discipleship requires progress in all aspects of one’s being.  Maturity is a full-time job.

And, yes, I am prescriptive.  My model demands movement, and movement equals exercise.  Exercise of mind through study and learning and a discipline of corporate reflection on new ideas and information.  Exercise of emotions and feelings in working on the fruit/discipline of self-control and becoming less reactive/volatile.  Exercise of relationships by identifying weaknesses and working to improve communication, empathy, transparency and attitude.  Exercise of moral judgement by cleaning up one’s act, abolishing double standards, acting fairly, and practicing radical and unconditional forgiveness in close relationships.  Exercise in spiritual discipline and practice through prayer, study, fasting, contemplation, worship, service, and fellowship.  Exercise of the body — by exercising, walking more, driving less, getting proper rest, eating healthier, etc.  And developing regular exercise of giving things away, doing with less, sharing more, giving more, shifting focus off of abundance/scarcity thinking to enough/sufficiency thinking.

And, no, I don’t effectively practice what I preach — but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true, good, honest counsel.  I am on the same journey as everyone else, and while I am “more mature” in a few places, I am “less mature” in many others.  One last observation I would make (and this blog addresses about six of the emails I received this week) is that our culture has inadvertently, but effectively dis-integrated these lines from a unity into discrete silos.  Physical health and beauty exists as a whole industry unto itself.  Education and learning are separated from emotional development.  Spirituality is dealt with at church.  Materialism has nothing to do with local or global relationships.  The fundamental interconnectedness of the various expressions of human growth and development have become compartmentalized.  Where can we find reintegration and wholeness?  It is my belief that the church is the ideal setting for such activity.  Our gospel and our ecclesial history make a strong case for health and wellness of body, mind, soul and spirit.  Maybe we could think in terms of…, oh, I don’t know…, moving on to perfection?

And spiritual maturity is essential for a healthy spiritual relationship — with God, in Christian community, and with those we seek to serve and love.  I have yet to find a congregation torn apart by maturity.  The most toxic and destructive behaviors come from the least mature spiritually.  Where a process for maturing is not provided, the less mature rule.  And when the less mature call all the shots, it is amazing how “the mature” often respond — more often than not, like the spiritually immature.  It seems that immaturity exerts a greater influence on maturity than maturity exerts in reverse.  But this actually make sense — there are way more less mature than mature.

Maturity has little to do with age or tenure.  My grandfather, a lifelong Christian, was a selfish, pushy, demanding, caustic, pouting elder in his Presbyterian church until the day he died.  In the last church I served, a twenty-five year old woman was one of the most spiritually mature, theologically grounded, and philosophically balanced people I have ever had the privilege to know — much more mature than either of her parents, both who held key leadership positions in the congregation.  Her maturity was often ignored or dismissed because she was chronologically young.  Pity.

Part of this dilemma is cultural.  Loosely borrowing from a variety of developmental theorists, I believe we all pass through four developmental phases:  dependence to independence to local interdependence to global/universal interdependence.  Babies are totally dependent on others for their survival, comfort, care and safety.  From birth — and radical dependence — we all move through stages of independence: pulling away, pushing limits, breaking rules, developing personal tastes, preferences, beliefs, desires, habits, etc.  We become individuals — unique, autonomous, self-actualized.  To grow, it sometimes has to be “all about us” as individuals.  But heaven help us if we get stuck here.  As we are declaring our own independence, the world demands we play nice with others.  We learn to share, to compromise, to negotiate, and to accommodate.  We develop coping mechanisms that allow our self to engage with other selves.  Now, some do this from an awakening that together we are greater than the sum of our parts, while others learn nothing more than there’s a sucker born every minute.  Emerging from the independence phase we divide into two basic orientations — givers and takers.  Givers see relationships as opportunities for mutual benefit, strength, comfort and security.  Takers live by one guiding principle: “what’s in it for me?”  Local interdependence occurs when people forge relationships.  And this is where the clearest distinctions of maturing emerge.  The less mature are still governed by the guiding values of independence — they seek to get their own way, they value their own opinions above those of others, they frame most encounters in “win-lose” terms, and they tend to take everything personally.  The more mature are guided by a value of “the common good” — what is best for everyone is more important than what is best for me.  Maturity shifts the focus from “me” to “we,” from “I” to “us.”  Maturity at the local interdependent level moves us from “me and mine” thinking to “us and ours.”

As we grow in our maturing, our circle of “us” expands.  Our worldview opens beyond family, friends, and tribe to community to state to nation to planet to cosmos.  Local interdependence can sometimes look like nothing more than collective independence — communal selfishness, irrational patriotism, geographic parochialism, or fanatical factionalism (think school cliques, sports allegiances, any given civil war…).  Global/universal interdependence gets us close to the vision that Jesus and Paul offer in Christian scripture.  Dividing walls are knocked down, hostilities abate, distinctions between male/female, slave/free, Greek/Jew, rich/poor, etc. disappear.  We become “one,” not just with those who agree with us or whom we like, but with all creation.  The fruits of maturity in the Spirit are evident in the way we love, in how kind and forgiving we are, in how patient and considerate we are, in the basic joy, hope and grace with which we live our daily lives.  By its fruits, maturity will be known.

Selfishness, hostility, bullying, arguing, derision, contempt, slander, gossip — no one ever makes a case for these as evidence of maturity.  Christian discipleship is a movement away from such characteristics and practices toward compassion, grace, mercy, unconditional love and healing.  Is there a value judgment here?  Certainly.  Love is better than hate; mercy is greater than vengeance; kindness is preferable to violence; and sharing is superior to selfishness.  Were maturity not of greater value than immaturity there would be no reason to be Christian — bad enough would be good enough.

It is time for the church to lift a high standard and hold each and every person to it.  If we are no better than the rest of the world, then we dishonor Christ and disgrace the gospel.  If we allow immature, toxic, selfish behavior to flourish and thrive in Christian community, then our witness to the world is that Jesus was wrong and the Holy Spirit has no power.  It is not enough to “make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world,” if we refuse to define a disciple as one who “must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love (Ephesians 4:15b-16).  There is no such thing as an independent Christian — if we’re not interdependent (think: body of Christ) then we are merely deluded.

It was not a full six months later that we sat together in reversed roles.  He and his wife lost two children in a very short period of time — one to illness, one to depression and suicide — and the strain was too much for their marriage.  They were engaged in a sad separation on their way to divorce.  My young friend spat out his anger and frustration: “The IS NO God.  If there were a loving God, He wouldn’t be doing this to me!”  I tried to temper his responses, but it was no good.  He was through with God, because God wasn’t treating him fairly.  His life, when placid, calm and stable meant God was blessing him.  His life turned upside down and filled with tragedy, pain and suffering meant there could be no God.  There was nothing I could say that he wanted to hear.  His myth of the fairyland called “faith” had been destroyed.

Faith as commodity exchange or a Skinnerian psychology experiment has never made sense to me.  Cries of “why is God doing this to me?” or “why does God allow this to happen,” simply make me feel like the people uttering such feelings haven’t really been paying attention (and they have certainly never read and reflected on the Book of Job…).  Certainly, we have always witnessed a simplistic and less mature faith of direct intercession, meddling and manipulation on the part of a slightly sinister grandpa-God in the sky, but that is caricature not Creator.  It is part of the human reality that the human brain attempts to simplify complexity in order to make things easier to understand and accept, but reducing God to a divine entity responding to each and every whim of the human race is nothing more than ignorant hubris.  It says much more about us that it does about God.

But before I get too carried away with “what everybody knows or should know” let me pull it back to what I believe and have experienced.  A deep and mature faith, in my experience, does not allow the believer to invoke magic powers and miraculous results, but gives the believer inner conviction and strength.  The prayers of those with a deep faith are less about having God perform to their satisfaction and more about preparing and equipping them to deal with whatever might come.  It isn’t that God magically removes the negative from their lives, but that they develop a faith-based worldview that allows them to rise above everything they face.  I have known people “miraculously” healed of cancer, and I have known deeply faithful and faith-filled people who died from cancer.  For me, the true miracle are those I have known with cancer who died with grace and acceptance, who witnessed to the real power of faith in the face of adversity.

I listened to a conversation in the next booth of a diner that made me both smile and feel a bit bad.  Two women were chatting, and one mentioned that she felt very guilty because she has been praying for rain to end our drought, and now we were having flooding and more rain is on the way.  Her friend told her that she should be more careful, and she asked if her friend had been very specific about how much rain she wanted.  The first woman burst into tears and confessed that, no, she just prayed for rain every day, and now she was afraid that she was responsible for terrible problems.  Her friend was at a loss for words, then said, “Well, maybe we should pray for the rain to stop.”  Quickly, the first woman responded, “But how will we know it won’t make things worse?”

These two women believe in the power of prayer, but it is a stunted and immature belief.  Prayer is a holy work-order, delivered from the lips of the believer to the ear of God — with a sense that God is a severe literalist, never employing common sense but acting like the magic in the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, delivering much more of what is asked for than is healthy.  What kind of God would do this?  Does God keep a running tally sheet of all those who pray for rain versus those who pray for clear skies, granting the wish of the majority?  Does God really wait to hear the prayers of some in the path of a tornado in order to know the very best place to turn it to smite the sinners?

So many people base their faith or lack of same on how well God does what they tell them.  “God let my wife die, therefore there is no God.”  “There is so much suffering in the world, that proves there is no God.”  “If there were a God, the world would be a more loving place.”  “If you really loved me you’d let me eat candy for breakfast.”  Oh, no, that last one is a petulant 3 year old…

We live in a world that I believe God created.  In this creation are many marvelous things.  The natural order and all the governing laws of nature are phenomenal.  The complexity and intricacy of the created order is astounding.  And for it all to exist, some of it is fragile, and some of it is dangerous, and some of it is corrupted, and some of it can be easily manipulated to turn good into evil.  The creative potential of the human mind is not value neutral — some intentionally use what they have been given for good, some for bad.  Some choose to heal, some choose to injure.  There are some who see others and would never, under any circumstances, seek to do them harm.  There are still others who will take their creativity to make a bomb, and if they cannot make a bomb, they will buy a gun, and if they cannot get a gun, they will find a knife, a stick, a rock, or they will simply turn their own hands into a weapon.  Some exist to create; others to destroy.  Faith doesn’t change this.  Belief in God doesn’t make any of this less true.  What an authentic faith provides is a way to navigate the good and the bad, the holy and the evil, the positive and the negative.  It internalizes the Spirit so that we become less reactive.  We are able to stand firm and believe no matter what happens around us.  The ground of our faith allows us to NOT be tossed too and fro by the vagaries and chaos, but instead to stay strong.  Bad things will happen in life, even to the best among us.  Thanks be to God for a faith that immunizes us and allows us ultimately to proclaim “Thanks be to God.”

This is a compelling metaphor for approaches to new church starts as viewed by United Methodists.  I look at some of the most compelling and innovative ministries across the country, and I am impressed by their “simple Lego” feel.  They take what they have, figure out ways to put the pieces together, and they come up with something creative and functional.  Then I go attend a workshop on “new church starts” and am dismayed by the cookie-cutter, do-this-exactly-as-I-tell-you (“I’ve been doing this for x years — I know what I am talking about…), don’t deviate from the directions, formulaic and reductionist approaches being offered.  I sat through a presentation on how each context is unique where the presenter ironically proceeded to lay out the ten things everyone should do in every situation.  We were reminded regularly NOT to cut steps or adapt any of the instructions.

I’ve noted before a wonderful paradox in The United Methodist Church — those who teach prescriptive formulas for church growth and church planting are the first to confess that they didn’t follow a prescription to get where they are now.  In fact, they will proudly state that there is NO WAY they could have achieved their success by copying what someone else already did.  (But, buy our book and you too can be as great as we are!!!)  Unique context and chemistry are too powerful to ignore.  The variables are more influential than the constants.  Yet, we still look for an expert to tell us what to do.

The sophisticated Lego sets (Star Wars, Ninjago, Lord of the Rings, etc.) are very cool and enjoyable — in the same way a jigsaw puzzle is enjoyable — but they eliminate one of the greatest values from the experience: creativity.  There is a power to the simplicity of the “basic” Lego set.  Watching nieces and nephews play with both kinds of Legos, I notice that with the sophisticated sets, they put them together once, but with the simple sets, they play with them again and again.  It is almost as if the “dedicated” kits can’t be used any other way.  It reminds me of two church visits I made in the Buffalo/Rochester, New York area in the late 1990s.  Both were smaller program sized churches — about 500 members with 350 active each week.  What was striking about the two churches was the difference in energy.  One church was vibrant and joyous.  The people present were all connected and engaged.  They had many ministries and programs, big and small, new and long-standing, and everyone was excited about something.  The contrast was the church that was taking things very seriously and was pursuing church growth.  Their leadership had its ministry plan all laid out, and they had been to Willow Creek and Church of the Resurrection to learn “how to do it.”  The people present seemed anxious, confused and disengaged.  Lots of programs were aimed AT them, and everyone was supposedly attached to a “small group,” but the energy was anything but joyous.  One church unleashed the energy, the other tried to constrain it through careful prescription.

Don’t get me wrong — you can put together some pretty cool Lego kits that allow zero creativity.  You can copy someone else’s successful church plant and get a reasonable facsimile.  But, I want to question, is this really what we want?  More churches is a guiding value of the modern UMC.  And more healthy churches is even better.  But derivative copies rarely rise to the level of the original.  Every community of faith is unique.  Each “church kit” is an odd jumble of different shapes and sizes (gifts, skills, knowledge, experience, vision, interests, aspirations, talents, aptitudes, proficiencies, resources…) that can fit together in a million different ways.  Jamming the uniqueness of one group into the uniformity of another boggles the mind.  In what way does this honor God?  I continue to be more impressed by the messy churches with a bunch of rough edges than I am the American-Idolesque wannabes that many church growth experts are trying to foist off on us.  If the best we can do is “paint-by-number” mindlessness, then we cannot be surprised when the world fails to flock to us in droves.  If  all we can offer is more of what they’ve seen a thousand times before, then we will be thought of as a cheap knock-off.  If we want to send a message that we are gifted people using what we’ve got to do a new and creative thing, people might be inspired to join us — and who knows, they might just be the brick we need to do something brilliant.

So many of the presentations and conversations feel like they have a “yes, but…” undertone.  The words are about unity and collaboration, but the undercurrent feels polemical and a bit competitive.  I listened to a Catholic priest explain how ecumenical dialogue never meant anything until after Vatican II, because without the Catholics in the conversation it could never go anywhere.  I have been patiently told that the Roman Catholic church isn’t part of the World Council of Churches because it “doesn’t want to take over.”  I have had nine conversations where it has been explained to me what “full communion” isn’t — not once have we settled on what it actually IS.  Too often, our best intended introductions devolve to explanations of what we are not, instead of what we are.  Our crowing achievements are Thanksgiving services and pantries — things we can do together with no real cost or compromise.  I’ve broached the subject of “one body in Christ,” and both times the people I have been speaking to turned the conversation to “different parts.”  Unity is the abstraction that brings us together, but not the reality towards which we choose to work.

The polemical nature of this gathering is perhaps the most distressing aspect.  Everyone is gathered to celebrate our oneness in Christ, but almost every serious discussion devolves into a focus on differences, and how until this or that group makes concessions, nothing much will change.  And power and privilege do matter.  After a couple of days, I am left with the impression that ecumenism is defined by what the Roman Catholic church will allow and accept.  Everyone else is part of the category “other.”  Which is not to say that the movement of the Catholic church has not been monumental in creating inter-Christian (a term I learned here) cooperation.  The reality is: unless the Catholics participate, not much changes.

What is great and wonderful and powerful about a meeting like this is that it happens.  But the fact that it happens is viewed as exceptional is problematic.  This should be normal.  This should have 50,000 participants, not a couple hundred.  This should be a jumping-off points for thousands of conversations, projects, unions, and partnerships.  This should define us in a newer, better way.  But my fear is that we will all return to our provincial, inward-focused denominational enclaves and merely smile and nod when we pass in our ecclesial hallways.  Nothing much will really change.  Our “full communions” will remain partial and sporadic at best.

I cannot speak for anyone else, but my own United Methodist Church pays well-intentioned lip service to ecumenism, but in the arena of “church” we are competitive, not collaborative.  When we invite people to “ReThink Church,” we don’t mean the universal Church of Jesus Christ — we mean the UMC.  The sub-line of Igniting Ministries, “Open Hearts, Open Minds, Open Doors,” was not “The Whole People of God,” but “The People of The United Methodist Church.”  When we spout off about “vital congregations,” we don’t mean Baptist or Presbyterian or Lutheran.  Our OCD about “new faith for new people in new places” doesn’t extend beyond a neo-Wesleyan not-so-united Methodism, let alone anything ecumenical.  Oh, I know I will hear from some people about isolated and exceptional cases — and they are isolated and exceptional (which is my point).  The fact is, we want to be bigger, and we really can’t be bothered with the health and well-being of other denominations — after all, their gain is our loss, right?

I got in trouble the last church I served — as I visited door to door in my community, I invited people to the church of their choice, not just to the church I served.  My trustees were furious with me when they found out.  Other pastors were put out with me, because they thought I was trying to make them look bad.  My sole intent was that it is better for each person to go somewhere rather than nowhere.  I got in trouble in Nashville for partnering with the Hindus.  Working with them, learning with them, laughing with them, and listening to them was criticized as agreeing with them (and, somehow, cheapening Christianity by extending the loving grace of God to all…).

We are so far from a universal grace and an unconditional love.  Oneness in Christ is a mere abstraction.  Serious transformation is a long way off, because so few people truly want it.  We like our “home teams.”  We are defined by our differences.  We revel in our “flavor.”  We don’t want to be something else — otherwise we would be.  I wonder what God wants?  I wonder how all of our factionalism and fracture is viewed from on high?  I wonder how the Christ, who “broke down” the dividing walls feels about what we have done to his church?  We will one day find out — and at that point, we will truly all be in the same boat.

I stepped out of the meeting to respond to a text message, and I stood near a pair of young Latina members of the housekeeping staff at our hotel.  When I finished my message, I noticed the young women, and one asked me, “Who are you?”  I froze like a deer in headlights for a moment, unsure how to respond.  My confusion was clearly displayed, so the young woman unpacked her meaning by asking, “What group are you with?  Who are you?”  I explained that we were leaders from a variety of Christian denominations and organizations gathered to talk about “unity” and working together.  Both young women looked confused.

“But, aren’t you all Christian?” one asked.

“Oh, yeah, but we even want to connect with people who believe differently; who have completely different religious beliefs.  We want to connect with people of many faiths.”

“But, you all believe in the same God here, right?” the other asked.

“Well, yes, but some of what we believe about God is a little different…”

“But, it IS God, right?  You all believe in God?”

“Yes.”

“And do you have the same Bible?” the first asked.

“Basically, yes, there are some different versions, but we all claim the same scriptures.” I explained.

The brows on both young women were furrowed and tense — each looked confused.

“So, why are you here?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, if you have one God, all believe in Jesus Christ, have one Bible, why do you need a meeting like this?  Why aren’t you one church?”

We talk all the time about wanting to reach young people.  We talk all the time about wanting to make disciples.  We talk about transforming the world.  Too bad we can’t all work together to do it.  Too bad we are in competition for kingdom building instead of celebrating each and every soul in new relationship with God.  We really are less interested in “making” Christian disciples than we are in making “United Methodists,” “Baptists,” “Lutherans,” “Roman Catholics,” “Pentecostals,” or “Presbyterians.”  There are too many precious arguments about being born again to allow that “those people” might have as much right to rescue the perishing as we do.  Heaven help us, someone might baptize somebody wrong or not consecrate the communion elements the way Jesus demands.  Some misguided segment of the body might mistakenly allow the wrong “all” to participate in the priesthood of all believers.  We might allow someone who needs the free gift of Christ to receive it before they deserve it.

I asked the young women if they go to church — they both laughed and said “no.”  I walked away wondering what impression they took away from our brief encounter?  When I did the seeker study for the denomination almost a decade ago, one of the top reasons why young people reported they left the church was the division and infighting they experienced.  For many, they simply did not want to waste their time trying to figure out who was right and who was wrong, who was good and who was bad, who was smarter than everyone else.  The very fact that we have to talk about creative ways to get along with others who worship the same God we do, who follow the same Savior we do, and study the same sacred text we do is a powerful testimony and witness to our world.  Unfortunately, what it says about us is that we aren’t very good at being one in Christ and one in ministry to all God’s creation.  It speaks much more powerfully to what we can’t do and what we are not rather than who God in Christ through the Holy Spirit calls us to be.

The book is essentially a compendium of Do’s and Don’ts (35 clear “don’ts…) that help us better understand how to communicate in effective and affirming ways.  Cullen helps shift perspective to the other side — what it is like to be on the receiving end of inappropriate, thoughtless, dismissive or even well-intended but harmful statements.  Her instruction is simple and straightforward.  It doesn’t much matter what we intend; our words are measured by their impact.  Thoughtless and offensive statements “pile on” over time, so that the general attitude behind any one comment can be magnified.  Defensiveness and attempting to justify oneself adds insult to injury, and mindlessly accepting power and privilege as a personal right while denying the same to others is unacceptable.  Most people are trying to be better and do the right thing, but words have power — they can be tools that build up or weapons that destroy.  Used thoughtlessly or irresponsibly, they do more harm than good.

As Christians, we should be champions of exemplary speech and careful communication.  Words that build us up while diminishing another are not good words.  When people of privilege or advantage say they are “color blind” or they “treat everyone exactly alike” or “some of their best friends are X” they are emphasizing that they are aware of difference and don’t care.  Those who live by the value of unconditional acceptance don’t have to tell people — the evidence is clear.  Only racists and sexists have to tell people they aren’t racists and sexists…

The ability to place oneself in the position of another is a key characteristic of basic maturity.  Further maturity is evidenced by the commitment to honor and value the other as highly as oneself.  We are not talking about mere tolerance or acceptance, but an affective union — a unity of heart, mind and spirit to model the deepest civility and the purest respect.  Such quality of relationships will not happen by accident.  We must make the commitment to intentionally love, respect, guard, protect, value and honor one another.  Sound impossible?  It’s biblical.

I recommend this book be read, studied, and discussed in every United Methodist Church.  It offers practical, down-to-earth, simple and helpful guidance for any Christian desiring to be just a bit more like Jesus.  It should be a must read for anyone interested in being a disciple.  Not everyone will like it, though.  Pay special attention to the people who like it least (the living models of what not to say).  They can teach us a lot.

Watch about ten minutes of an evening news cast or scan the first few pages of any newspaper (well, maybe not USA Today…) and you will find overwhelming evidence that we live in a broken, violent, and frightening world.  Wars, school shootings, tainted food, terrorist attacks, gang violence, global warming, bridge collapses, fires, earthquakes, floods, and who got booted off this week’s American Idol are proof positive that something is very wrong.  Disaster – human-made and natural – lurks around every corner.  We stand at the brink of absolute and total annihilation. 

This is not news to Christians.  Ever since Adam bit the apple/fig/pomegranate (scholars are unsure), the world has been going to hell in a hand basket.  This is what our faith is all about: that despite what our eyes and brains tell us, our hearts know better.  God is in charge, and all things work together for good for those who love God.[1]  We have been given the assurance of salvation and rescue.  We know a deeper truth than that offered us by secular culture.  Even in the face of severe persecution and the threat of bodily harm, we have reason to rejoice, right?  It doesn’t matter if the mass media does everything in its power to scare the living daylights out of us.  We’re not shaken by an elevated terrorist threat level (orange, no amber, no crimson, no BLOOD RED!), because we possess blessed assurance, amazing grace, and a friend named Jesus.  The culture may tell us the world is a horrible, angry, awful place, but the Christian counter-culture has a more important story to share with the nations: our God is an AWESOME God.  The rest of the world may go nuts with fear, but not us…

Why is it, since we do possess such a fantastic, positive, grace-filled, love-driven, mercy-based, hopeful gospel, that we succumb to the same soul-numbing terror tactics as the rest of the world?  Why do we so happily abdicate our foundation of faith to build instead on a platform of fear?

For example, the incredibly popular Left Behind series of books and films, authored by Tim LeHaye and Jerry Jenkins.  Loosely based[2] on the book of Revelation (the book at the back of the New Testament right before the maps), this incredibly endless series graphically describes the blood-thirsty and brutal end times (Apocalypse) where the people of light and grace, slaughter with intense conviction bad people (i.e., people who don’t follow Jesus).  Beginning with a calamitous and gruesome rapture, the series details all the tortures, torments, punishments, afflictions, and horrors (all well deserved) suffered by those “left behind” (get it?) as some strive toward redemption and others slide further into the fiery pit.  Now, Revelation has some scary bits, and it is a wake-up call to apathetic Christians and non-believers alike to join the winning side before it is too late, but the Left Behind series – which fills in the gaps of the book of Revelation to the tune of approximately 5,000 pages, total – enjoys itself way too much.  There is a sadistic glee that shines through the cautionary tale.  There is real satisfaction in watching the unrepentant get what’s coming to them.  The message here is not what joy and fulfillment can be found in the Christian life, but how important it is to escape the wrath to come.  These are books of diabolical manipulation and perverse distortion.  Under the façade of fiction, these books become coercive weapons of mass-hysteria destruction.  There is absolutely nothing redeeming or edifying about them.  They are one of the best examples of Christian pornography.[3]

Another example of the pornographication (I made that word up) of the Christian gospel is Mel Gibson’s, The Passion of the Christ.  If you saw this film, you know how shocking and powerful it is; if you did not see it, watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre and multiply the blood, gore, violence, and brutality by 3 and you will begin to get an idea of how over the top and depressing this film is.  By all artistic measures, this is a remarkable film.  The acting was fine, the production values incredible, the direction, lighting, staging, cinematography all first-rate.  The fact that the quality is so high is actually part of the problem – once you see this film, its images stay with you for a long time.  The grossly inaccurate storyline displaces the real gospel accounts as the way it must have happened.  The sickening brutality looks so real; it must depict what it was actually like (because Hollywood would never embellish).  The inhumane cruelty (of the Jews, the film wants to make perfectly clear) and the rabid hatred motivating torture (also the Jews – Rome is kind of incidental in the Gospel According to Mel) and crucifixion displace any possible positive message from the film.  Viewers are left stunned and angry that the Son of God could have been treated this way.  It is revisionist manipulation at its most sinister and disreputable.  And it was presented to the world in the name of Jesus Christ.

It is interesting to me that Jesus did not weep more often in scripture.  He lamented the waywardness of Jerusalem and the loss of his friend Lazarus, but knowing what he did about the trajectory of human history, it is a miracle he did anything but weep.  Jesus attempted to get human beings to focus on something good and positive and beautiful.  Jesus offered hope, redemption, and second chances.  His promise was to wipe away tears and make all things new.  He invited people to become light and salt and a bright, shining city on a hill.  He did not encourage us to paint horrific pictures of hell, torture, damnation and to foster hateful bigotry and prejudice.

Not everyone, though, focuses only on the negative by trying to scare people into the Christian faith.  No, others use their time and talents to go looking for trouble, and to weed out potential threats to our delicate and fragile faith.  No better example of this exists than the furor over the Harry Potter books and movies.  Harry, along with friends Hermione and Ron (I am not going to recap the series – if you don’t know what I’m talking about, where the heck have you been for the last decade!!), use magic.  Some of it is good magic, but magic – being what it is – has a dark side.  Evil, demons, dark arts, and Dementors (not to mention Malfoys) threaten the forces for good.  In epic fairy tale form, this is classic good against evil, and in the tradition of the best children’s literature, good defeats evil every time.  A wonderful message, right?

Not so much.  See these books talk about the occult.  They treat fantasy disrespectfully, therefore opening the door to the devil himself.[4]  Once again, the gospel of bondage and fear kicks in when we approach this phenomenon of young adult fiction.  Ignore the fact that J.K. Rowling motivated millions of children to pick up books and spend countless hours reading.  Disregard that the morals, values, core messages were consistently positive and encouraging.  Discount the fact that she safely addressed in her fantasyland dozens of developmental issues that young people have to face in the real world.  Instead, focus on the fact that the Bible forbids sorcery so that good Christians everywhere should pick up pitchforks and torches and rustle up a witch roast.  Give me a break.  Is our God so weak and silly that we fear that Harry Potter can destroy him?  Have we done such a lousy job teaching our children the difference between fact and fantasy that we actually think they’ll sneak off to Hogwarts?  Is our fear so much more powerful than our faith that we adopt cave-dweller mentalities[5] to burn books, DVDs, and Magic 8-Balls? 

The Harry Potter debate almost makes sense, due to the fact that a slim segment of the Christian community operates from a mythic/magic, premodern worldview.  Occult powers can be scary.  The parallel debate that defies logic is that over C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia.  Narnia is a fantasyland cut from a different swatch of cloth than Hogwarts, but nonetheless it is magical and mystical.  However, Lewis was a Christian, and by design his Narnia tales are Christian allegory.  They are filled with Christian symbolism and metaphor.  They reinforce and retell classic Christian teachings.  They also provide morality tales aimed at the world of children and youth.  Beloved by millions, mostly Christian, even these sweet and lovely tales come under attack… because there is a witch (and a lion with supernatural powers, but he’s Jesus, so that’s okay).

In Narnia and Hogwarts Academy, the bad guys are bad guys and the good guys are good.  In both worlds, the forces of light defeat the forces of darkness.  J. K. Rowling and C.S. Lewis (good fantasy writers only use initials – think J.R.R. Tolkien and The Lord of the Rings… oh, no; Christians weren’t too crazy about him either…) both offer messages of comfort and hope to the young who are navigating the turbulent waters of childhood and adolescence.  Oh, yes, and one more thing – these are just stories.  They aren’t real.

Christians waste a lot of precious time being upset about unimportant and irrelevant things.  Every Christian makes a fundamental choice – to focus on what we have been saved from or focusing on what we have been saved for.  Those who stay focused on everything that is wrong, everything that is dangerous, everything that is scary, and everything that is evil are governed by a gospel of fear and loathing.  Those who stay focused on where God is leading, on the possible good that can be done, on building the kingdom of God, and on sharing light and love with the rest of creation are governed by the grace and Spirit of God.  The second group has learned a simple but valuable lesson – when you spend all your own time doing good, there’s no time left to worry about the bad others might be doing.

The Christian church has the unique opportunity to create a counter-culture – to live by values, attitudes, practices, and processes that are different from those the rest of the world employs.  Where the mainstream media exploits our fears, we can offer comfort and hope.  Where corporate America fuels the flames of materialism and rampant consumption, the church can help people find satisfaction with what they already have.  Where popular entertainment force-feeds us a steady diet of programs about conflict and competition like Jerry Springer, Survivor, Desperate Housewives, and American Idol (four of the most popular shows with conservative Christians in the United States), we can reflect on the messages of unity, reconciliation and collaboration that form the core of our faith.  Where the secular culture wants to focus on the negative, we can choose to stay positive.

What part of our world did God not create?  Who is exempt from the loving redemption of Jesus Christ?  Name a place in creation where God’s Holy Spirit does not dwell?  Is our Lord the Lord of all or not?  Why then do we allow fear to occasionally push us to such ugly and faithless behaviors?  We have been blessed by the greatest news on earth.  It’s time we started acting like it.

As to the mind of Christ, I imagine it was awhirl with, “It’s all true, it’s all real, it’s going to happen, man, I can’t wait to see the look on their faces.  Will they sure be red!”  I imagine a divine “I told you so,” waiting to be rolled out again and again.  The hard work of the past few years, the blood, sweat and tears of the past few days — all worth it.  A vast, cosmic plan come to fruition.  It would be even harder to conceive and understand.  If the twelve struggled before, it promised to be an uphill climb just to get them to wrap their heads around the scope of all that changed.  The shift from death to life for Jesus meant a shift from follower to leader, from student to teacher, from apprentice to master for the disciples — now empowered to be apostles, prophets, evangelists, and servant shepherds.  No more studying the playbook or drills on the practice field.  The real game was about to begin.  But Jesus was moving from player-coach-captain into a pure coaching mode.  He would work with his “team” for about another six weeks, then it would be up to them to perform.  Even out of the tomb, I wonder what went through Jesus’ mind about the future of the ministry?

I believe the greatest test of faith in this whole story is not Jesus’ trust in God or in his own identity, if there is a truly miraculous act of faith, it is the trust Jesus puts in the boys to get it together and take the movement to the next level.  There was not great evidence that they were ready.  As to a track record, they got more wrong than right.  Imagine in our day a major Fortune 500 business turned over to those who showed great promise, but had performed poorly, lacked confidence and competency, and folded under pressure…  Hey, after resurrection, is anything impossible?

If there was one governing emotion for Jesus on Easter morning, I believe it was impatience:  impatient with those expecting him to be dead and buried, impatience with those still hiding, impatience with those who hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might return, impatience with having to “prove” himself, impatience with the short-sightedness and blindness of those who kept saying “we get it, we get it,” and impatience to get on with it all.  In the Greek, Jesus’ response to Mary “do not hold onto me, I have not yet ascended,” is a much more petulant, “Let go of me!  Jeesh, we’ve got more important things to do!”  I see petulance in the Emmaus story as well as the fishermen and the beach.  It is not an unreasonable stretch to see irritation and annoyance in many of the post-resurrection tales.  I think in the back of Jesus’ mind must have played, “What else do you want?!  There is no ‘and now, for my next trick…’, resurrection is the whole deal — you want/need more than this, you’re out of luck.”

The seismic shift of Easter put the burden of belief and servanthood squarely on the shoulders of his friends as never before.  Yes, Jesus promised to be with them in the form of Spirit; yes, Jesus offered the grace of solidarity and remembrance with every bite of bread and each drink of wine; yes, Jesus taught them and trained them — but nothing new and miraculous would happen apart from the disciples experiencing a radical transformation in the Spirit that empowered them to live fully from their gifts.  Easter is more than a celebration of the return of the Christ; it is a passing of the responsibility from those who followed to become those who will lead.  And guess what?  It is still happening today.  Attending an Easter service should not be a spectator sport — it should be that critical time when we step up to be put in the game.  He is risen indeed!  But the evidence that Jesus lives is us, pure and simple.  In what we say, in what we do, in how we live, clear evidence should be found that Jesus is alive, now and forever more.