The God I Don't Believe In

Photo by Ari Mattson

If your faith is more interested in drawing lines and building walls between people than building bridges and seeking connection, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith agrees completely with the platform of any political party, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith believes that your nation is specially blessed by God to save the world, but it isn't named in the Bible, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith never challenges you to change, but makes you hyper aware of other peoples' flaws, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith never challenges you to change and agrees with everything you already believe, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith practices fear and compulsion to create "converts" instead of attracting people by its beauty, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith believes it needs power to force people to fall in line, I don't believe in that God. 

If your faith condones violence as anything but a last resort and only to protect others, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith requires hierarchies based on gender, age, ethnicity, sexuality, or political persuasion, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith wants to avoid the pain and confusion of the cross and only talk about Easter, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith only cares about your soul going to heaven and not the physical plight of others, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith only cares about physical needs and not spiritual transformation, I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith believes faith is a place you need to arrive and stay, instead of a journey of discovery "to grasp how long and high and wide and deep is the love of Christ" (Ephesians 3:18), I don't believe in that god. 

If your faith is only about what you believe in your head, or what you do with your hands, or what you feel in your heart and not all three, I don't believe in that god.

If your faith offers simple answers to every problem and demands you don't ask questions, I don't believe in that god.

“Midnight Mass,” Mars Hill, and Religious Extremism

Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

In one week last fall, I finished two very different series that were recommended to me for very different reasons from different people but had nearly identical lessons. 

The first was a documentary podcast series from Christianity Today called, “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill.” Over thirteen episodes (plus two bonus episodes), the series traced the ministry of a mega-church in Seattle and its “young, restless, and reformed” lead pastor, Mark Driscoll. Mars Hill became one of the largest churches in America, appealing especially to young adults and men in a notoriously unreligious city. But, as the name suggests, the church fell apart publicly and suddenly when Driscoll resigned in the wake of an investigation into his leadership that alleged abuse and bullying. 

The second series was "Midnight Mass," a Netflix horror series that was the most popular streaming show in the country for a few weeks. (Note: NO spoilers ahead.) Normally it never would have been on my radar, but three different sources offered the same basic review: "I normally don't like horror, but this was different and it raised a lot of questions about religion that made me think, but I think it would offend a lot of Christians, and I really want to talk about it with someone." With that intriguing trinity of recommendations, I started watching it and ended up binging it with my spouse and daughter who wandered in while I was watching. And talk about it we did! 

It's the kind of show that is difficult to say anything about without giving away spoilers, but the basic premise is that a small fishing village on a New England island is dying. After a new priest unexpectedly arrives at the Catholic Church that serves as the heart of the community, strange things begin happening -- some terrifying and some miraculous -- and there are disagreements about what they mean. Once you learn what is happening and why, but you are left wrestling with questions about ends justifying means, the difference between faith and cultishness, the meanings of love and life, and so much more. 

It was these nagging questions that form the bridge between these two series. Both are asking deep questions about one central question: When does religion move from being a medicine to being a disease?

In the case of Mars Hill, the host tracks the way the church helps many people develop their faith and become better people, but often does so with methods that are antithetical to the character of Jesus. Despite narcissistic, dishonest, and vengeful behavior, Mark Driscoll grows in power and people that get in his way become "bodies under the bus" as he says in one infamous conversation. As long as the church is growing, people believe, Mark must be correct. Over time, the church becomes focused on promoting Mark Driscoll instead of Jesus, while the differences between the two are ever more stark. 

Likewise, in "Midnight Mass," there are people who are willing to defend and overlook what should be objectively evil as long as it also brings blessings and miracles. In both cases, people will use scripture and theological language to excuse bad behavior or attack those who are trying to speak the truth. 

I found myself feeling very uncomfortable on multiple occasions in both series as I would hear Mark Driscoll or a villain in the fictional series use theological language and Bible lessons that I largely agree with (and have at times used myself), only to have them land on a conclusion completely opposite of what I believe. 

On hearing and seeing how people are wounded by those words, I had to think deeply about my own vocation and the authority I have as a pastor to shape what people believe is true. I was reminded of times I have been less than Christ-like in my leadership or hurt people in the name of my higher priorities.

Both series are powerful because they make the audience stare at the worst of religious extremism and abuse, but neither one is really anti-religion. They also celebrate what is beautiful and life-giving in religious practices. They offer compelling examples of how faith brings out the best in people, even in the worst of times. They are haunting and compelling because they show how thin the line can be between good and evil, how good intentions do not guarantee virtuous outcomes, and how easily we can deceive ourselves into thinking we are on the side of God as we banish God from our presence, just as the religious leaders of the Gospels crucified Jesus in the name of defending God. 

I highly recommend both series to anyone who likes to think or who wants to wrestle with the questions I've outlined. I'm still thinking about these months after finishing them. Be warned that you will really want to talk to someone about them. I'm available if you know how to reach me. 

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“Bad decisions, they don’t feel bad at the time; consequences, they don’t always fit the crime.” -NEEDTOBREATHE, “Riding High”

Is Faith a Destination or a Process?

Photo by Dave Hoefler on Unsplash

I remember bumper stickers when I was a kid that read, "There is no way to peace. Peace is the way." The idea behind the stickers was that we can't bomb and kill our way to peace. Though nations often rely on military means to achieve "peace," it's unwise to think one can use death and destruction to subdue an enemy and then have everyone be friends the next day. If true peace needs trust and cooperation between opponents, violence always creates the opposite.

I've been thinking about that phrase a lot recently in my Bible studies and devotional time because it seems to me we are often taught to think in terms of results: How to get the promotion... How to guarantee your kid goes to the Ivy League... How to win...

The same often applies to churches. How to increase attendance... How to guarantee deeper faith...

On one hand, there's nothing wrong with having goals. If we don't know where we're going, we likely won't go anywhere. But I wonder if we too often make the result the only thing that matters. 

If the end result is all that matters, how we get there isn't as important. Did I make someone else look bad so I would be preferred? Did I take advantage of unfair of a privilege someone else lacked to get ahead? Did I twist the truth to get someone on my side? As long as I achieve my goal, I can justify what I did to get there. 

But there are consequences to a "whatever it takes" mentality. I see many politicians openly lying or practicing character assassination to make sure their party gains or keeps power while implying, "We'll be virtuous once we get past the election." But why would should someone be trusted once they have power if they were untrustworthy getting it?

In another example, a bombshell report on the Southern Baptist Convention came out recently that laid out how victims of sexual abuse by pastoral staff were ignored and silenced for years in the name of protecting the institution and concerns about bad press damaging their evangelism. Or if anyone listened to "The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill" podcast, you'll remember the infamous comment by a pastor bragging about "bodies under the bus" of his success. 

When the end goal or success itself is the only thing that matters, how you get there doesn't, but like the way to peace, it's unreasonable to bomb your way to victory and then believe everything will be magically perfect afterwards. 

And it seems that Jesus rarely takes such an approach. Though he talks about building the Kingdom of God and aims to "save the world" (not a small goal!), he spends a lot more time teaching about the process of faith than the destination. He tells people simply, "Follow me" (e.g. Luke 5:27) without telling them where they are going. When James and John ask to sit at his right hand, he warns them against seeking power and tells them to serve one another (Mark 10:35-45). And when he teaches to "love your enemies" and "turn the other cheek," he doesn't say, "Then you'll achieve what you are hoping for." It isn't a "how to" manual with a goal in mind, but more "be like this and let me worry about the conclusion."

In fact, when he tells the disciples he is going to be arrested and die and says, 

"You know the way to where I am going," Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" Jesus said to him, "I am the way and the truth and the life" (John 14:4-6a, emphasis mine)

 In other words, you don't need to know the destination, Thomas; you know me. Follow me and you will get there. He goes on in the following chapters to assure them to stick to what he's taught them. It's like, 

• Step 1: Be loving, generous, forgiving, kind, patient, hopeful, at peace, and welcoming.
• Step 2: If you are (insert any emotion or situation here), see Step 1.

One might say, "There is no way to Jesus. Jesus is the way."

I have found this idea that "Jesus is the way" helpful as there are many things going on in the world around me and in my personal and professional life that are uncertain or out of my control. Over the past two years, almost everything has felt unsettled or temporary. Even when I know where I'm going, it can change or there are detours constantly. But I can tell myself, wherever you are, be loving; whatever happens, be kind; in good or bad, be caring. It gives me a focus and sense of grounding. 

I may not know the final goal, but I know the way. And that's more important.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“I thought that everything would turn out right, now look what I’ve become: a man I wouldn’t have respect for if I met me when I was young.” -Jars of Clay, “Left Undone”

WHO Is My Enemy? Or WHAT Is My Enemy?

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On August 22, the assigned New Testament, or "epistle," reading for church was Ephesians 6:10-20. Most Christians would recognize this quickly as the "Armor of God" passage, where Paul tells the church to prepare for spiritual battle by putting on the Breastplate of Righteousness, Sandals of Peace, the Sword of God's Word, and so on.

It's something I've seen depicted in many Sunday school coloring pages and described in youth retreat Bible studies. It's pretty cliché to me.

But you know how you can watch your favorite movie a dozen times and then realize you never saw something happen in the background that totally changes the meaning of a scene? This Sunday was one of those times for me when I heard this text read.

In verse 12, Paul tells the church that "our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but ... against the spiritual forces of evil..." 

Now, Paul has been beaten, ridiculed, and imprisoned for what he preaches and he frequently is writing to churches that are facing similar treatment for their faith (including the Galatians). But Paul says, "It's not the person who beat me who is my enemy. The real enemies are spiritual forces of evil." We might hear that phrase and think about demon possessions, but I think it also means the forces of bigotry and selfishness, or the lies people have believed that have warped their hearts and minds, or the pain and hurt they feel and want to take out on others. 

Paul wants the church to battle evil, but don't attack "blood and flesh" because they are human beings made in God's image who God wants to transform. (After all, Paul was one of those twisted, evil-acting people before literally getting knocked on his butt by Jesus.)

This really hit me square in the face because of how much I've been hearing about "those people." "Those people are being stubborn and selfish." "Those people can't think for themselves." "Those people don't understand the real world." "Those people are ruining our country." "Those people aren't really Christian."

I'm guessing we can all identify some of "those people" in our lives, but the truth is I've heard these statements made by people on both sides of our social divisions about "those" on the other side. We need to learn how to bridge those divides (that's a topic for another time), but Paul's advice may be helpful here: our struggle is not against the flesh and blood of those people, but against the spiritual evil that motivates the worst in them (and me), the forces of sin and death that convince us our only hope is to be afraid and defensive.

Once this occurred to me, I realized something about the "armor" that Paul describes: if we take it literally, it shouldn't lead to violence and hostile conflict. He says to use "righteousness," "truth," "peace," and "faith." The only "weapon" he names is the "sword of the Spirit, that is the word of God" (emphasis mine), which is more like a surgical tool for removing a tumor than a weapon meant to kill. 

Rather than a muscular, militaristic Christianity, Paul is promoting a "warfare" that is its opposite: instead of seeking destruction, act with truth, healing, and peace. Or, he might say, "When things get rough, the plan doesn't change: love God, love neighbor, and be the virtues you want in others."

For as cliché as this passage has been for me, I've never heard it taught as anti-militant imagery or how to not fight evil the way the world does. But it makes sense. After all, if we are soldiers of some kind, then our "general" is Jesus, who didn't say, "Go get 'em" but "Father, forgive them," and who won a victory by submitting to death. 

Who am I battling? What am I battling? How am I battling? Hmm...

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“The dawn to end all nights.” -Broken Bells, “The High Road”

 

Advent Reflection: Are You Ready?

Advent is traditionally a season of preparation. As we begin this year's Advent, I can't help but think this year has already been a full one of getting ready. As a country, we prepared for online everything, then reopening, then re-closing...kind of. The spring was full of suggestions for filling your time: online classes, sour dough starters, and more. The summer was filled with protests for racial justice and unfortunate examples of riots and violence, and we were preparing with listening groups, and reading groups. Then the fall became a constant exercise in learning about how to do school online while working at home, or school in person while working from home, or school at grandparents house while parents worked
somewhere, or learning pods, or tutors...and then constantly second guessing your decisions or having others do it for you. 

No wonder we’re exhausted. And now the scripture and tradition tells us to get ready and I think, more? Maybe we need to reframe what Advent and Christmas mean this year. Maybe we need to “be awake” (Mark 13:37) not by rushing around and being busy, but standing still. Let’s slow down and be reminded of what matters this year: Jesus has come, is coming, and will come. He entered a troubled world full of fear and injustice and spoke peace and gave his life. He will come again to fulfill the promises of resurrection and a new creation. And He is coming even now, in water, wine, bread, and acts of love. 

This year, I'm trying to "be ready," not by making myself busier, but by finding time to slow down, be still, and know that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with us. 

From the Gray, 
Pastor Ari

“If you’ve never stared off into the distance, then your life is a shame.” -Counting Crows, “Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby”

The Thing You Don't Know You're Building

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"For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." -Matthew 6:21

“You become like what you worship.” -N.T. Wright, Paul and the Faithfulness of God

"There are two wolves fighting inside all of us. The first one is evil, the second one is good... Which wolf will win? The one you feed." -Unknown (attributed to Native American teaching)

"We are forms of all the things that we love. Do you know what you are?" -Jars of Clay, "Good Monsters"

The Holiest Thing We'll Ever See

The Christian author C.S. Lewis once wrote: “Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.” 

By Blessed Sacrament, Lewis meant the bread and wine of communion, and it's probably not surprising he would consider that the holiest thing we will ever see. What may be surprising is the second part of that statement; that after communion, the holiest thing we'll ever see or touch is another human being.

That's right: sloppy, dirty, imperfect human beings are holy. Your co-worker who can't pick up after herself is holy. That whiny child in the store is holy. The jerk who just cut you off in traffic and almost caused an accident is holy.

Humans are holy because we're created in God's image, because Jesus considered us precious enough to live and die for our benefit, because, like the bread and wine of communion, God's presence can somehow become real in us.

We humans do not always live up to that holiness or show it on the outside. When I say "Jesus loves you" to that jerk in traffic it's usually sarcastic instead of a statement of fact, but I have found that when I can take Lewis's words seriously, it makes a difference in how I treat people. When I think, "God loves this person" I can find a little more patience, a little more understanding, and find myself a little less frustrated or angry.

If we can more frequently find the faith to believe that one of the holiest things we'll ever be close to another human being, perhaps we can see the Holy Spirit breathe a little more peace into this world. And that would be blessed indeed.

Standing in the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“You're everywhere to me; when I catch my breath, it's you I breathe.” -Michelle Branch, "Everywhere"

Let's End Suicide

(Note: I first wrote this on my facebook page.)

I've never watched Anthony Bourdain.

Until last week, I'd never heard of Kate Spade.

But I learned I have at least one thing in common with them. I have known the dark night of the soul where voices in my head have been speaking the mantra that I'm a failure and my life isn't worth continuing. There have been times my depression and anxiety were so overwhelming that stepping into nothingness has sounded like a relief. 

I thank God that in those moments I heard another voice. I thank God that I found a therapist, a psychiatrist, and a medication that have stabilized my condition so that I'm fine 99% of the time and no longer have suicidal thoughts. And today I grieve with God that Anthony and Kate and roughly 100 Americans per day did not.

Since I found a way to manage my mental health condition, I've made one of my life's goals to #endthestigma around mental health issues so that more people might find the help they need and those who don't have mental health issues can better ally with loved ones who do.

As this article suggests, the first step is recognizing this is a disease. Just as a diabetic can't will their body to create insulin or a cancer patient can't focus on the positive to heal their cancer, I cannot will my brain into balancing my serotonin levels. 

When I get the flu, people don't tell me to "get over it." They wisely suggest I sleep, see a doctor, drink fluids, etc.  When I have an episode of depression or anxiety, I have a "mental flu" and I need to care for the "infection" just as I would the flu. 

So, if you want to help someone who lives with a mental health issue, here's what I find helpful: 

-Listen without judging or trying to fix things. Unless you're a doctor, you can't fix cancer and you can't fix depression, so don't try. Just listen, empathize, and assure the person you love that you care and they aren't alone. Words like, "That sounds really tough" can feel inadequate, but go a long way to building a healthy connection.

-Tell the person it's okay to care for themselves. It isn't selfish to go to the ER when you have a broken arm and it isn't selfish to treat a mental health episode...but it sure feels that way when you're having one. Letting someone know the world won't fall apart and they will still be loved if they take time to care for themselves is important.

-Ask for guidance in helping. What you think may be helpful might not be to someone in crisis, so ask what is and don't minimize it if it seems small. Something like emptying the dishwasher for me can be a release valve that makes bigger things manageable.

-Check in regularly. When appropriate for the individual relationship, ask how they're doing and don't be afraid to name the disease. I have one friend who's very good at asking, "How's your anxiety been doing?" It helps because I know he cares and it makes it feel normal.

If you live with depression, anxiety, bi-polar, or other mental health issues, YOU ARE NOT ALONE and YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF. There are millions of us who live with, struggle with, and manage a mental health issue. If you don't already, please take steps to care for yourself. 

That may include a therapist or a medication and there's no shame or weakness it that. 

It should definitely include some loving friends who know your struggle and can support you in ways that are helpful to you. I'm happy to be one of them.

And if you ever find yourself listening to the voices that say life isn't worth continuing, then find another voice. Remember MY voice telling you this: "That other voice is lying to you!" If you are religious, remember God's voice saying, "You are my beloved child. I want to create life where things seem dead." Find a voice on the National Suicide Hotline at 988. But find help. Now. 

Your life matters to me and to more people than you realize.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“Even if we can’t find heaven, I’ll walk through hell with you.” -Rachel Platten, “Stand By You”

You Are Not Trash

Much of our North American culture is built to be thrown away.

Fast food is served in paper and plastic that's meant to be disposed after use and most groceries are sold in packaging that's thrown away after use. Most minor appliances are cheaper to replace than repair. It's expected that devices like cell phones will be replaced every 18-24 months. The average American creates about 4.4 pounds of trash per day.

It safe to say that we expect many things in our lives be temporary and quickly obsolete.

But that's not how God operates.

The Bible tells of a God that refuses to give up and throw away his people. Though they complain about God in the wilderness. Though their rejection of God leads to exile. Though they crucify Jesus. God sticks by God's promises to redeem, repair, and resurrect those in need. It strikes me that even in Revelation, the image of the new creation is not one where the earth is eliminated, but is made perfect and complete by the arrival of heaven.

There's an important lesson in that I strive to remember from time to time. You are not trash to God. God won't throw us away. God's grace isn't temporary.

The Reality of God isn't a throw away culture.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari


"And in this day when something's worth is based on what someone would pay, it's nice to know I'm worth one Jesus to You." -Everybodyduck, "Tetelestai"

A Question for Anti-Semitic Christians

Throughout the Old Testament, God makes promises to the Jewish people. At least 17 times God or God's prophets speak of "everlasting covenants" made to God's people to protect them, love them, be with them, and be their God. God specifically tells David in 2 Samuel 7 that his kingdom will be "made sure forever before Me" and God will not take away God's "steadfast love" from David's descendants (that is, the Jewish people). God chose the descendants of Abraham and David to be God's people forever.  

As a Christian, I believe that Jesus came and amended that promise so that all the world might be adopted into God's people. But that original promise was never erased. Even though I may disagree with my Jewish neighbors on who Jesus was, we remain part of the same religious family tree and share the "everlasting covenants" of Abraham and Sarah and David. Even in the New Testament, St. Paul says explicitly, "Has God rejected His people [the Jews]? By no means!" (Romans 11:1).

If you are someone who believes that Jews are evil, or enemies of Christians, or a threat to civilization, or need to be opposed in the name of God, then my question is simple. If God has abandoned the "everlasting covenants" of the Old Testament, then what's to keep God from abandoning the promises made in Jesus Christ? What does your scorn of the Jewish people say about God's eternal nature?

How can you trust a God who has gone back on promises to the Jewish people to uphold promises made to Christians? Either God is trustworthy or God is not.  

I will put my trust in the God of welcome and reconciliation (2 Cor. 5). I believe yours is a liar.

From the Gray, 

Pastor Ari

“If our hearts have turned to stone, there is hope; we know the rocks will cry out.” -Jars of Clay, “Shelter”

Addressing Mental Health in the Church

A friend shared this article from the Washington Post on facebook a few months ago and I've found myself thinking a lot about it ever since. In the essay, Charlotte Donlon writes about living with bipolar disorder, her faith, and her frustration that the church rarely addresses mental illness in meaningful ways, if at all. For me the essay cuts me in a couple different ways.

First, as a pastor, I read how the author's pastor dismisses her mental anguish in conversation and unintentionally shames her in a sermon and I cringe. I cringe because on days where I feel like less than a superhero, that's what I worry I'm doing. I am in near constant fear that I will say something that shames or hurts someone without me meaning to or that I just won't have the right words to say to help. I've learned in my ministry that there are many times where the only true answer is "I don't know." But when someone comes to me with a difficult question looking for some kind of help or hope, it rarely feels like that level of theological honesty is the right answer. Chronic illness, serious childhood diseases, and sudden deaths are all things that make me want to scream "Why God?" with everyone else.

At the same time, I resonate strongly with Donlon's essay because it's my own story, too. I've lived with depression for my entire adult life and shortly before I first read this essay, I was also diagnosed with a generalized anxiety disorder. I have more family members and friends that live with mental health issues than I can count on one hand and I know they are not uncommon in the faith communities that I've served. And yet, there is still a stigma around mental health.

Many churches do awesome work around feeding programs, addiction recovery, poverty assistance, and even healthcare, but it's interesting to me how almost all those programs are directed externally. Meanwhile, internally, few churches in my experience foster an environment that normalizes things like mental health, divorce, addiction, autism, and other issues that are, in fact, normal for most people. Instead, many of us put on masks and pretend to be what we think is "normal" and think we're the only ones faking it.

I don't have any answers for fixing this, certainly not on a grand scale, but I am a big fan of Brené Brown's work that says risking vulnerability and honesty is the root of joy and wholeheartedness and I know Jesus said "the truth will set you free" (John 8:32). So I hope that being vulnerable and honest about my own struggles with mental health might start to normalize it for others.

So...

I have anxiety and depression. I'm medicated for it now and it's helped me a lot. Most of the time I'm fine, but like arthritis or diabetes, it can flare up at times and I can't function at 100% when it does. I'm not ashamed about living with anxiety and depression. In fact, sometimes I think of them as my super powers because I know they are closely connected to my drive to be my best and my creativity.

And I know I'm not alone. And if you're like me, then neither are you.

I pray this is something we can talk about more and I pray that the gift of God's grace gives us the confidence to make being normal... well...
normal.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

P.S. If you struggle with depression or think about hurting yourself, please get some professional help. If you can't, have a friend help you. Take it from me: things can get better.


“There’s one more thing I want to say: Our brains are sick, but that’s okay.” -twenty one pilots, “Fake You Out”

Getting Uncomfortable Can Be Good

Last Christmas, my family had the opportunity to join in a tradition outside our own experience. My daughter is in a dual-language program at her school that combines students who are native speakers of both Spanish and English so they can learn from and with each other. One of her friend's family is from Mexico and they invited us to come to their Las Posadas celebration.

Las Posadas is a religious tradition for Mexican Catholics recalling the pilgrimage of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem and their search for housing along the way. That's about all I knew when we arrived at their house for the celebration and crammed into their crowded living room. We were handed a sheet of paper full of Spanish songs and prayers and without much warning the event began. Various people took the lead with songs and prayers, a young girl and boy dressed as Mary and Joseph moved around the room at certain times, my wife and daughter jumped in easily as they are both fluent in Spanish, and it was clear that for everyone outside my family, the happenings were familiar and meaningful.

But I was lost.

I know enough Spanish to mumble my way through something written on the page and I felt honored to have been invited to what was clearly an important family event, but I spent most of the evening confused, and maybe even uncomfortable.

Good Bias

Bias is typically understood as a negative thing. Bias determines our reactions, our natural inclinations towards one option over another.

Whether we like it or not, all of us have bias.

But not all bias is bad.

For example, training ourselves in faith or discipleship is about becoming biased...towards hope and love and patience.

So when we are angry with someone, our bias changes from "I need to get even with them" to "I need to reconcile with them." When we see someone in trouble, our bias changes from "Too bad for them" to "How can I help carry your burden?"

Not all bias is bad. It's just a matter of perspective.

What's your bias?

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“There’s no insult like the truth.” -Charlie Peacock, “Insult Like the Truth”

Where to Find Grace on the Internet

It was announced last month that comic Trevor Noah would be replacing Jon Stewart as the anchor of The Daily Show later this year. The internet went abuzz discussing this South African comedian who is relatively unknown in the United States.

Then, within forty-eight hours, the internet was abuzz about Trevor Noah for different reasons. People who were trawling through his twitter account found a handful of old jokes that were deemed anti-semitic and sexist. Questions were being raised about his character and whether Comedy Central should fire him before he even starts the job.

I read the tweets. I don't find them funny and think they were in poor taste. At the same time, I don't think a few bad jokes (from someone whose job is to make thousands of jokes) are enough to judge someone's character.

Noah is just the latest example of people being haunted by their internet history. For me, the most important story in all this is a bigger picture perspective: the internet is making us a culture without grace.

There have been many examples of people being shamed by offensive comments or embarrassing photos or videos that have made it online. And because it's the internet millions of us can see them and we can instantly share our opinions (good or bad) on what we've seen. Strong emotions are most likely to make us comment or share, so most of those comments are going to be based on fear, anger, or joy. (Furthermore, most are probably going to be from fear or anger because they literally come from the instinct part of our brain that screams, "Danger! Do something!") Strong emotions tend to be like a virus, so anger and fear beget more anger and fear and before long we are all either angry at the original person or angry at the people who are angry at the person. And then we're demanding that someone be arrested or fired or fined or worse because they are clearly a terrible person...

And usually no one stops to ask, "Is this really an example of who this person is, or did we just catch them at a time of bad attitude/bad judgement/bad whatever?" Almost everything can be found on the internet. The benefit of a doubt is rarely one of them.

Here's a truth: I have told crass, racist, and sexist jokes in my past. I cringe to admit that publicly and even more to think I ever thought those words I spoke were funny or appropriate. I also did some stupid (though not illegal) things when I was young, I've been rude to people in public, and made other regrettable decisions in my life. However, because (1) many of those things happened before social media and (2) I've been lucky, none of that history has been saved for eternity on Facebook or Youtube.

When I'm at my worst in front of someone who knows me well, I can come back later and apologize and (usually) be forgiven; when I'm at my worst on the internet, then I can offend hundreds or thousands and I become an example of everything that's wrong with society. Among friends, my occasional stupidity can be put in the context of "the real me"; towards strangers on the internet though, many of us seem to do the opposite, assuming the "worst" is the real person and any good they show is just a cover.

As Christians, we have a highly technical term for making mistakes, saying hurtful things, and making poor decisions. We call it "being human." We also call it "sin," but the point is that we all do it. But the Bible says that "if we confess our sin, God...will forgive our sin and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). We call that "grace," but we could also call it "second chances" or, perhaps, "the benefit of a doubt."

So, if we confess to God, we have our sins forgiven, but if we confess on the internet, we have our sins thrown in our face forever. God calls for us to love in all we do, but we call for blood when someone online offends us. God says we can change and grow in love, but the internet assumes who we used to be is who we'll always be. See where I'm going here?

Now there are certainly times when there should be just consequences for poor decisions, but justice is not the same as vengeance and everything I've read in the Bible tells me that loving others means assuming the best about them, even when they are guilty of something. I struggle to think of any examples where vengeance and hate lead to grace for either party.

What's Coming to You...

(Note: This post was originally written for my church's newsletter.)

It happened this past week in mid-November. Both my kids at different times asked the age-old question, “When is Christmas going to be here?” They are already anticipating the presents, decorations, and food that heralds the heralds of Christ’s birth. And who can blame them? In spite of the stress that some of us feel before Christmas, it’s still a joy and wonder to wait for what we all know is coming. 

I was reminded this morning by a devotional reading that the very name the Church gives for the weeks before Christmas — Advent — means “coming.” It is a time that we live with patience and preparation (and excitement!) for what will soon arrive. One of the things that I love about Advent is how it represents the way we are meant to live as Christians all the time. We are always looking with hope and excitement towards the future, always keeping an eye on what’s coming. 

I find this an important reminder for myself as we head into another Christmas, a new year, and another (early) winter. There are always reasons to be pessimistic about…almost everything, and this year is no different, with ISIS and Ebola causing havoc and heartbreak, Russia seemingly focused on another Cold War, domestic politics that are as partisan and bitter as most of us can ever remember, and so on. (Like, why is it this cold in November?) 

But as Christians, we are called to live in the now and the not yet. While we seek to love and serve in the present, to ease suffering and care for those in need, we also speak of the not yet, the coming Kingdom of God (or, as I like to call it, “God’s Reality”) where joy and love will prosper and suffering and trouble will end. Christmas happens just after the shortest day of the year and for generations, the Church has used the circumstance as a metaphor that once Jesus appears, light in the world increases.

In October and November of this year, I’ve preached on a lot of texts from Matthew where Jesus describes his eventual return. Many of these have images that can seem threatening and scary (Matthew is very fond of the phrase “weeping and gnashing of teeth”), but for Christians, these words carry a great promise: God doesn’t want the world to be suffering and unjust and some day Jesus is coming to fix it all. All the things that cause us fear and heartbreak — near or far, big or small — are temporary compared to the promises of God. Therefore, we look for the coming of Jesus just like we wait for the coming of Christmas: with joy and excitement. When is Christmas going to be here?

In God's Amazing Grace,

Pastor Ari

“Blah blah love and war.” -The Rescues, “Did It Really Even Matter”

What My Daughter Taught Me About Gratitude

A few nights ago, I was putting my daughter to bed when she asked me, "How much money was our house to buy?" I told her the amount, which is roughly what you would expect to pay for a "starter" home in our area.

My daughter, who thinks that ten dollars is a huge amount of money, gave me a look of awe and surprise at a number on a scale far beyond her weekly allowance. Then I watched her mind settle on a reason for this astronomical number and she smiled warmly as she said, "It must cost a lot because we have such a nice house."

I was surprised at her answer. A nice house? I don't think we live in a dump, but it wouldn't be confused for the Ritz-Carlton by anyone. And to be honest, when I'm in my house, what I tend to notice is the chips in the paint, the stains in the carpet, or the cracks in the driveway. I tend to see my house as a to-do list of things to be fixed, but I realized in that moment that my daughter saw it very differently. To her, our house is amazing and beautiful.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about gratitude. It's been a common theme through what I've seen, heard, and read lately (I even talked about it in my sermon this past Sunday), and I've been thinking about how connected it is to other things. Gratitude makes it hard to be envious, angry, or hold grudges. It decreases worry and increases generosity. It seems to be a common theme among people I perceive to be happy most of the time (and therefore wish to emulate).

And it is not how I would describe my usual attitude toward my to-do list house.

But my daughter sees the house differently and she is grateful to live in "such a nice house." For a moment during bedtime, I could see it through her eyes and it reminded me of the plastic bag scene in American Beauty. I hope and pray that I can find that type of gratitude more often, even -- especially! -- for ordinary things. Then maybe I would have more moments like my daughter's wonder or like my son looking in the laundry and shouting, "Yes! My shark shirt is clean! Awesome!" I can't imagine that would be a bad place to be.

“If you wanna kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel.” -U2, “Mysterious Ways”

Scotland, God, and You and Me

This morning, the result of the long-awaited vote on Scottish independence was announced. Given the chance to become again a separate nation, the people of Scotland voted 55-45 to remain a part of the United Kingdom.

As an anglophile who has travelled to the southern parts of UK twice and would love to vacation in Scotland someday, I was watching the vote closely. But up until today, I don't think I could have said I had a strong opinion one way or another.

Part of me was morbidly curious to see if an independent Scotland could succeed. Economically, there are some strong reasons to believe she'd be just fine, and on my first trip to London, I met a British Member of Parliament from the Scottish National Party who gave a passionate argument for independence. On the other hand, I worried about the confusion a divorce would mean for the UK and all their allies. What would it mean for neighbors on the Scotland-England border? Would Scots living in other parts of the UK suddenly need foreign work permits or likewise for other Brits in Scotland? The whole issue raised fascinating questions.

After hearing the result of the vote, however, I found myself pleased. And I realized my pleasure didn't come from any political or economic reasoning, but from a philosophical one. At a time when we hear about so much division in our world, Scotland had made a decision in favor of community.

In recent decades it seems that most movement has been in the opposite direction. Religious and ethnic groups have demanded greater separation from their former neighbors. Since 1990, at least a dozen countries have been created by larger nations breaking down along cultural lines. Just in the past month we've seen headlines about Iraq, Israel/Gaza, and Ukraine where one group of people is saying, "We can't live with you. Because you are a different religion/ethnicity, we can't share a nation with you." (And yes, I realize that is a radical oversimplification, but I do believe that thread of thought is present in all three areas.) In the United States, much of our national politics has ground to a halt because the two major political parties refuse to work with each other on big issues, pointing to their opponents' differences as faults.

What's interesting is that according to the Bible, God seems very interested in community over divisions. Early in Genesis, God says "It's not good for a human to be alone." Throughout the prophets, God says things suggesting that how we live together as a community is the greatest reflection of our religious beliefs. Jesus said an awful lot more about repairing and maintaining relationships than he did about ending them. In Matthew's Gospel especially, Jesus seems deeply concerned with answering, "How should Christians live together?"

In light of the Bible and current news, I find Scotland's vote for continued community to be a breath of fresh air. Certainly there are still issues to be ironed out and the future UK may still be different as a result of the vote, but the Scots decided that being different doesn't mean they have to be separate and community doesn't have to be built on finding a smaller group of people that agree on more things. Instead, choosing to be a community in spite of differences brings a strength all its own.

In a world (and Church) as diverse as ours, there's a lesson in that for all of us.

“I’m kind of older than I was when I rebelled without a care. So there.” -Lorde, “Team”

Don't Just Do Something, Sit There!

(Note: A version of this article first appeared in the summer 2014 newsletter for my church.)

“Be still and know that I am God.” -Psalm 46:10

“Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work.” -Exodus 20:8-10a

OK, quick. What is the meaning of the 4th Commandment listed above? 

If you said, “We should go to church,” then you answered the same way as almost every confirmation student I’ve ever asked that question. You would also only be partly correct. 

Most people (including Martin Luther in the Small Catechism) latch on to the phrase “keep it holy” and immediately think about religious services on Sunday. And while there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s not a complete understanding of the commandment for a couple reasons. 

First of all, the Sabbath day is technically Saturday, not Sunday. The Jewish holy day begins at sundown on Friday and goes to sundown Saturday. Christians moved their holy day to Sunday because it was the day of resurrection. Therefore, some may quibble that keeping Sabbath and attending Sunday worship are not the same thing.

But the bigger issue is that focusing solely on attending worship misses the rest of the commandment: you shall do no work. The word sabbath (or “shabbat”) in Hebrew literally means “to rest.” Two reasons are given to rest. In Exodus 20, the author references the story of creation and says we should rest because God rested on the seventh day of creation. In Deuteronomy 5, the author points to the Hebrews recent slavery in Egypt and basically argues, “You know what it’s like to be overworked, so take time to rest and don’t overwork yourselves, your servants, or your animals.”

I think this command to rest (in addition to spending time with God) is an important one for us today. Much of our identity as residents of the Western World and as Americans is tied up in working hard and being productive. And on it’s own that’s good, but taken to the extreme, we can start to think we need to work hard all the time or always be doing something. (I have a friend that likes to quip, “We’re not human beings in America; we’re human do-ings.”) It seems that sometimes even our “recreation” activities can be exhausting. 

Remembering this side to the 4th Commandment can be important for us, because just like the other commandments, this commandment is meant by God for good. Just as we have better lives when we don’t lie, steal, or kill each other, we have better lives when we take time to rest. Taking time to rest increases our creativity, makes us more present to our loved ones, helps to improve humor, patience, and gratitude, and can even make us more productive when we return to our work. 

(It should probably be noted that rest doesn’t have to mean doing nothing at all, but taking a break from our normal labors for something that lets us recharge and refocus. I’m reminded of the stories of 19th century Americans who would spend all Sunday sitting still in high back chairs, which doesn’t strike me as either holy or restful.)

As we begin the summer season, I pray that we will all take Sabbath time in these coming months (in whatever form that looks like for you). May we remember God’s command for us to rest and God’s concern for our health and well-being. And may we continue to learn that sometimes doing God’s will may mean doing less. 

"I am heading for a time of quiet, when my restlessness has past and I can lie down on my blanket and release my fists at last." -Paul Simon, "Quiet"

In Gratitude to Nelson Mandela

Sometimes saints and heroes can function as a mirror that shows us our unkempt hair and smudged face and drives us to clean up the image of the person we see. Their excellence reminds us of our own imperfections, but simultaneously inspires us to work toward that excellence. I believe Nelson Mandela was such a person for much of the world, but certainly was for me.

Mandela has shown that Christian ideals such as forgiveness, loving your enemy, mercy, and compassion are not just good ideas, they are practical solutions. How often have we thought, "Sure, loving my enemy sounds good, but this is real life?" or "All that morality stuff is great for my personal life, but it doesn't work in politics or economics." What's particularly amazing to me is that Mandela at one time would have agreed. In the 1960s, he turned from non-violence and advocated violent acts as the only way to overturn the oppressive government. Love, peace, and compassion seemed an impossible path toward justice.

And yet, decades later, Mandela proved his younger self wrong.

By welcoming his opponents into his government, by refusing to seek revenge for decades of violence, and by introducing the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (by which many pro-apartheid leaders were granted amnesty in exchange for publicly confessing their crimes and listening to the testimonies of their victims), he managed to sooth much of the hatred and fear that had permeated the country for decades. In fact, one could argue that his insistence on forgiveness, peace making, and reconciliation worked better at creating a stable transition to democracy than any of the other examples we have in recent memory. (Just look at the struggles that Libya and Egypt are having today.)

Mandela would have been perfectly justified with pursuing a different route, one that demanded greater retribution from former oppressors, yet he found the strength to believe and embody the words of his compatriot, Archbishop Desmond Tutu: "Goodness is stronger than evil; love is stronger than hate; light is stronger than darkness; life is stronger than death." In so doing, Mandela managed to heal a nation set it on a path that would have seemed impossible even shortly before his release. I pray that Mandela's life may continue to challenge us to recognize that ideas such as love, mercy, and forgiveness are not just pie-in-the-sky philosophies, but are practical, real-world Gospel.

“You're possessed with a power that's bigger than the pain.” -Everclear, "Heartspark Dollarsign"

Peace Be With You

(Note: This post was originally written for my church's newsletter.)

“O come, o come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel…” -Traditional Advent Hymn

“[Jesus said,] Peace I leave with you. I do not give to you as the world gives.” -John 14:27

During Advent this year, our church will be exploring the idea of peace. It seems a fitting theme because in the build up to Christmas we often hear the message “Peace on Earth” in carols and cards echoing the message of the angels that first Christmas night. It is also a time of year where we seem to more acutely desire peace in our lives … and perhaps are more aware of where peace is lacking in our lives. 

There are many things that can steal peace from our lives: worries about the state of the world; disappointment in ourselves; injustice to ourselves or a loved one. And many of us have likely seen/imagined/lived scenarios of doing everything we can to make sure Christmas is peaceful and perfect, only to have the day disappoint.

What is this peace we hunger for this time of year? In English, we typically equate peace with an absence of something, as in we see peace where there is an absence of movement or an absence of violence. From a Biblical perspective, though, peace is something else. In much of the Bible, peace is mentioned using the Hebrew word “shalom.” Shalom expresses not an absence, but a presence, because it indicates a sense of wholeness. If I were to wish “shalom” to another person, I would be saying, “May you be fed and sheltered; may you be loved and may you rest without fear or worry.”

If peace is about presence, then it makes sense that we proclaim peace in Advent and Christmas, which are about anticipating and celebrating the presence of Jesus, the Messiah. Jesus promised to come and “ransom” us from those things that steal peace from us—fear, selfishness, hopelessness—and so we experience peace in those places where we find the presence of the Christ. 

Ultimately, the peace we proclaim in Advent is not based on everything in our lives being right or still, but in the hope that Jesus chose to be present among us and continues to draw near to us and our world. It is a peace that the world cannot give. As the angels told the shepherds where to find Jesus that first Christmas, may we share that peace by pointing towards the places where we find Christ.

“This is my kingdom come.” -Imagine Dragons, “Demons”