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.

Cancel Culture and Dealing with Sinful People

The author at Taliesen West

Last November, while doing some continuing education in Arizona, I took the opportunity to visit Taliesen West, Frank Lloyd Wright's second home and studio in the desert. Wright has long been someone I admire because of the artistry of his designs, but even more for the way he thought about the experience of his buildings. He wanted to create specific emotions and thoughts for people who used his buildings.

Wright was also a selfish, irresponsible jerk.

History attests to the fact that he abandoned his first family to chase a mistress, he skipped out on many of his debts and contracts, he would often use his students as free labor, and he was known to be rude and condescending. 

My spouse and I have long discussed how to properly balance respect for his work with disgust for his character. Can you admire the art and condemn the artist? How do you praise one part of his life without approving of all of it? Or do we have to be all or nothing -- his art was great so his character doesn't matter OR we shouldn't study him or honor him in any way because he was so flawed?

I've thought about my dilemma with Frank Lloyd Wright often in the past few years, as we've had reckonings and reexamination of many public figures in movements like #metoo, confrontation of racism, and what is sometimes referred to as "cancel culture." 

• Thomas Jefferson and George Washington made incredible and brilliant contributions to human liberty, but they also kept slaves, the antithesis of human liberty. 
• Martin Luther King, Jr. was a giant of the civil rights movement for his moral and rhetorical clarity, but he is known to have carried on an affair until his death and to have plagiarized in his college papers.
• Michael Jackson was one of the best pop music performers of all time, but he's alleged to have sexually exploited boys. 
• Ellen Degeneres was known for bringing inclusion, kindness, and positivity to daytime television, but she has been accused of being abusive, rude, and uncaring to employees behind the scenes.
• Bill Cosby, Placido Domingo, Kevin Spacey, Matt Lauer, and on and on...

Let me be very clear up front that I don't think these are all equivalent in terms of the public contributions OR the alleged crimes. Nor do I think the answer to "How should we deal with their legacy?" will be the same in every case. These are all unique situations and problems with different complexities to be debated on their own. But that's partly my point.

One of the observations I've made is the public often wants to take the all-or-nothing route for most cases. Either the good they did was too important and we should ignore their faults altogether, or they are flawed and so we should remove them entirely from the public record. Hence there are pastors who admit to adultery and get standing ovations from their congregation and some people get fired for stupid things they wrote when they were teenagers.

We seem to be really bad at dealing with ambiguity and human foibles. We want our heroes to be pure of heart and are deeply hurt when they aren't. Or we want people to fall neatly into "good or bad" categories and struggle when they (always) fall in between. Exactly why is beyond the space of this blog or scope of my knowledge, but from a Christian perspective (which fits into both) it seems we should be better at handling this. 

The Bible is full of heroes who have serious flaws: Jacob is a liar, Moses has a bad temper, Samson is controlled by his lust, David is an adulterer and murderer, and so on. Yet God was able to redeem them and use them. Paul says in Galatians, "You have heard of my former life in Judaism, how I persecuted the church of God violently and tried to destroy it," but God "called me by his grace" (1:13, 15). 

The Bible doesn't have "good" and "bad" people; it just has human people who "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). And unlike many popular depictions, God's goal isn't to catch people screwing up and condemn them forever, but to transform them and reconcile them to lives of faithfulness, like Paul describes above or Legion in Mark 5. 

None of this is to say that there shouldn't be consequences for moral failings. Christianity also calls for confession of sins, repentance, and justice. Sometimes people should be fired, arrested, or publicly shamed for their faults, but we can never divorce that from the hope for their redemption. 

We should never be surprised that humans can do stupid, hurtful, or even evil things, nor should we assume that great people are free from criticism. We are all what Martin Luther called, "simul justus et peccator" or "simultaneously saint and sinner." And he was a prime example of that. 

Luther was a brilliant theologian, preacher, and pastor, but later in life, he became deeply and violently anti-semitic. Some of the things he wrote were awful enough that Lutherans have publicly apologized and condemned these writings. 

As I said earlier, I don't think there are any one-size-fits-all solutions to the problems of flawed leaders and celebrities, but perhaps that is part of the solution: being honest about sins (either our own or our predecessors) and humbly pledging to do better, while welcoming others who make similar promises. 

At least, I hope I can receive that grace when my imperfections are brought to light... and can share it when the roles are reversed.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“Don’t have to settle the score, ‘cause we all live under the reign of one king.” -Creed, “What’s This Life For?”

“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”

The World Needs Your Story

(Note: This post first appeared in my church's newsletter for December 2019.)

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” -John 1:5

When I was young, I once got it in my head to make a list of all the “heroes” of the Bible who had been “perfect” so that I could study them more closely. I was disappointed to realize how hard this was. Abraham and Sarah were impatient and lied. Moses lost his temper. David? Adultery and murder. Peter? Denial. Paul? Murder again. Adam and Eve? Um...no.

Over time, my disappointment transformed as I made two realizations. First was that the point is not for me to be perfect, but trust that God’s love is perfect. God’s grace shines in the darkness not because of human perfection, but because of godly persistence. God has always used imperfect people to do the things of heaven here on earth. God always seems to show up in the wrong place: in the wilderness, among the sinners, in a manger, and, above all, at the cross. 

Second, that meant that my imperfect life could be used by God, too. I didn’t need to be perfect, but faithful; not flawless, but following. The good news of the Gospel is about a god who comes to heal, help, and correct the broken people and places of this world. God takes flesh not only in Jesus at Bethlehem, but in us, too.

Our job as Christians isn’t to never make mistakes, but to allow the grace of God to heal us and then share how that healing matters with others. That is the real story of the heroes of the Bible. God reshaped their lives and the effects are an inspiration to us today. In the same way, your life, your story is important for others. 

We may not think of ourselves as heroes of faith or important people in the world, but your story of faith -- your victories and joys and doubts and struggles, and where God is in the midst of them -- are exactly the good news someone needs to hear. This Advent and Christmas, remember that God is with us not just in the Jesus in the manger, but in the Jesus who lives in you. May God use you to light the darkness.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“Here in my head full of shame, you pick me up and say I look like you.” -Jars of Clay, “Sing”

Learning to Live Together

Being a part of a community is hard.

It is, right?

Whether that community is our neighbors, co-workers, or the people we live with, getting along can be hard work. We have different opinions, different priorities, different favorites, and so on. Even in church, we don't agree on everything. We may love one another as Christians, but not always like each other as people.

Now, when we get along with the people around us, it's fantastic, but when we don't, it can be everything from stressful to destructive.

I've been thinking and reading and talking a lot recently about how to get along with other people because it seems to be a concern right now. There is a general consensus that we aren't as polite, tolerant, or open-minded as we used to be  need to be as a society.  No one likes the division we're seeing in our world right now, but no one's quite sure how to deal with it.

I don't have perfect answers, but I firmly believe that the God who told us to "love one another," "love your enemies," and forgive "seventy seven times" does not want us to live divided or suspicious. And I believe the Church has a role to play in this, helping to proclaim God's reality in our world.

To that end, I'm planning to write a series of blogs about how to live together (#howtolivetogether), sharing some of the wisdom I've been uncovering and hopefully starting some conversations or habits that move us in a new direction. In the resurrection, Jesus transformed the world and in baptism, we are transformed as well. With the Spirit's help, we can continue the work of transformation.

Standing in the Grey,
Pastor Ari

“It feels like giving in. It feels like starting over. It feels like waking up.” -Jars of Clay, “Two Hands”

Flour Power

At my church, children who don't take communion yet get a blessing when they come to the table with their family. Usually I rest my hand on their head as I bless them and trace a cross on their forehead to remind them of their baptism.

As I do, there is often an unintended side effect.

That's because we also use homemade bread for communion at my church (yum!) and it has flour on it from the kneading process. So when I bless the children, they end up with a dusting of flour that my hand has picked up from the bread. They leave the table with a visible residue of God's blessing for them in their hair.

It helps me to remember that what we hold on to will leave a mark on things we touch. What am I holding on to and what kind of residue am I leaving behind me? Are my hands dirty with grime or with grace?

I hope and pray that my words and actions dust the world with blessings and I hope yours do, too.

From the Gray,
Pastor Ari

“I want the markings made on my skin to mean something to me again.” -twenty one pilots, “Doubt”

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"

Where To Start...

On Maundy Thursday (the Thursday before Easter), the worship service in my tradition begins with the sermon. In explaining this change, the worship reference book* says, "The relocation of the sermon enables the preacher to deal with the various aspects of the theme of Jesus' love as a background for the entire service." In other words, we start with Jesus' love because everything in this worship is about Jesus' love.

As I read that this year, it gave me two thoughts.

First, that is a good summary for Lutheran theology. Jesus' love is the background for everything. Because salvation/eternal life/reconciliation is a gift from God, God's love and grace is the beginning of and background to everything we believe and do. Nothing begins without God's love.

That led to my second thought: what if I tried to live with that thought always in mind?

• My day begins because of Jesus' love. 
• I will begin this email with Jesus' love. 
• Jesus' love will be in the background of this difficult conversation. 
• How is Jesus' love in the background of this meeting? Of this meal with loved ones?
• I will write this blog with Jesus' love...

This week I'm playing around with what that looks like for me. How about you? How would treating Jesus' love as the beginning and background to all you do change how you speak, think, and act (or react)? 

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

"Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start." -The Sound of Music, "Do Re Mi"

*(Lutheran Book of Worship: Ministers Desk Edition for anyone who cares.)

A Single Point of Failure

"If you have a single leader, you have a single point of failure.” 

In January, my pastoral coach shared this quote through our Facebook conversation group. I’ve thought back to this quote many times since then as it speaks of the way I’ve been trying to adapt as a leader in recent years. 

Coming out of seminary, I had a bit of hero complex. Like recent graduates of almost any school, with a head full of fresh knowledge and eagerness to put it to use, I often thought I needed to provide the answers to every problem. I acted as if I needed to be involved in every decision. 

The dark side to that was I was constantly making decisions that were little more than good guesses. No one can be an expert in everything and no one has infinite attention to devote to the many things that happen in a church, but the models for leadership I’d seen in my life and my training in seminary suggested that’s what I was supposed to be. Be strong, be decisive, don’t show weakness. 

The darker side was that I was always scared of being wrong, of being revealed to be a fraud. I lived with the constant stress of believing that the well being of a congregation rested almost entirely on my shoulders and if I tripped up, the shame would surely kill me.

Thankfully, wise and loving people, humbling mistakes, and the undeserved grace I received after the mistakes, all taught me how stupid I was being. I am not called to be a savior. That’s Jesus’ job. 

In hindsight, when I push aside Jesus from his place as savior, I am sinning (one definition of sin is not acknowledging God’s proper place in your life) and “the wages of sin is death” (Romans 6:23). I was killing good ministry by wearing myself out. I was killing good ministry because I couldn’t give proper attention to everything and I don’t always have the best perspective on something. I was killing good ministry by sidelining people who were experienced and passionate about areas I wasn’t. 

Even though I would talk about delegation and sharing responsibility, I couldn’t seem to do it myself… not until my failures piled up enough to convince me I had no other options. 

Sometimes I’m a slow learner. 

But I’ve slowly learned that sharing responsibility creates for better outcomes. I’ve learned that asking questions is often more important than having answers. I’ve learned that risking the vulnerability of saying “I don’t know” leads to deeper trust. I’ve learned that being honest about myself is more faithful than being perfect. I’ve learned that mistakes create space for grace to be practiced, and where there is grace, there is God.

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“I’ve just returned from a war that was lost. The only foe I had was me.” -Josh Joplin Group, “Human”


(Note: This article also appeared in my church's newsletter in Spring 2017.)

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.

Unregulated Grace (A Throwback Post)

(Note: This was originally written for my church newsletter in Spring of 2009.)

“There needs to be more regulation.”  This is the consensus that has come from most politicians and national economists in the wake of the Wall Street mortgage meltdown in 2008.  Amid all the finger pointing and shoulder shrugging, this seems to be the one thing on which most people agree.  Over the past fifteen years or so, the argument goes, government was too soft on the business sector and gave them unprecedented freedom by deregulation.  Business then took that freedom and went crazy, making deals that were so complicated and twisted that after months of scrutiny by numerous accountants, no one seems to know how broke the major firms really are.  The cost of excessive freedom has proven costly indeed.  The solution to fixing the mess and preventing its recurrence has been a call for there to be more oversight and greater control to keep CEOs and companies from running amok with people's money.  If deregulation was the problem, then regulation is the answer.

As we move through Lent and prepare for Easter, I spend a lot of time thinking about the cross.  As Lutherans, the cross is at the heart of our theology, but is especially present during Lent and Good Friday.  As I was thinking about it recently, with the news of our economy in the back of my mind, an amazing thought struck me: God's grace is unregulated.  That's right, God's grace has no regulations.  In this time when everyone is clamoring for greater oversight and tighter controls, God continues to operate without any restrictions.  Now, this is not to say that God could be regulated or controlled, but the wonder is that God chooses to operate without any restrictions.

Think about it.  We confess that we are saved by grace alone, meaning that it is God's gift to us and that we can have no effect on God's decision to give it to us and that the promise is good into eternity.  In other words, we receive salvation without any preconditions and free from any revocation clauses.  It is completely unregulated.  God simply throws it around willy-nilly.

Think about the story of the Prodigal Son (or Expectant Father) in Luke 15. When he sees his lost son returning the father runs (runs!) to meet him, embraces him and immediately calls for a celebration.  The son doesn't even get a chance to apologize.  And the father doesn't scold him; he doesn't give a don't-do-it-again warning; he doesn't ask for an accounting of his fortunes.  The father embraces him. That is unregulated love.

But wait! We've seen where this can lead.  Without regulations, people run amok, they go beyond the bounds of common sense or decency and act solely for themselves.  That is true for banks and for grace.  Because it is unregulated, we are free to treat God's love however we wish. We are free to ignore the cross. We are free to yawn as we are told of Christ's sacrifice for us.  We are free walk away from the greatest free gift we could ever receive.  Many do.  And yet God continues to insist on a deregulated grace market and throws around the capital like a stimulus bill on crack.  Such is the scandal of grace.

However, if we have received this gift and properly appraised its value, how can we not act appropriately?  How can we not use this gift for the good of all people?  How can we not respond with generosity and joy?  What end could possibly be greater than the one God intended for us?  We're free to ignore it, but why would we?

As people continue to demand greater accountability from Wall Street and controls on the markets, there is one place where deregulation has always been the norm and always will be. God pours out his grace upon us in unregulated fashion so that we are free to live life however we want.  How will you choose to live yours?

From the Gray,

Pastor Ari

“You’d see that we should never be afraid to die.” -Muse, “Uprising”

Healthy Fear

One of the intriguing aspects of the Bible (at least to me) is the repeated command to "fear the Lord." It's an idea that appears at least one hundred times in places like Psalm 2:11 ("Serve the Lord with fear") or Proverbs 9:10 ("Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom").

It's something I've been asked about many times over the years from kids and adults: "If God loves me, why should I be afraid?" And over the years, I've given pretty standard theological answers about being in awe of God's majesty and God's right to revoke mercy at anytime and blah blah blah...

Because while I don't think my answers were wrong, they left me unsatisfied and I've usually felt there has to be a better explanation to use. Then a couple months ago, I thought of one while listening to someone else preaching (on a completely unrelated topic).

I thought about the fact that we consider cold feet on a wedding day completely normal. Is it because we think the beloved will suddenly turn into a monster and eat us? No. It’s because we recognize the enormity of the moment. We recognize that this event/relationship/emotion will change us; we recognize that we can’t predict what this will mean for our lives.

Because I love/am loved, I may do things or live in ways I didn't think I would or could or should. Because I love/am loved, I must consider the needs and wishes of my beloved and not just my own. Because I love/am loved, I am entrusting a huge part of myself to someone I can't control, making myself vulnerable, and risking being hurt. And that's scary. Love is scary.

And we think it's normal to feel fear in that place.

God, God's love, and the relationship God offers to us are no different. They will change us. We cannot predict what God will mean for our lives or where faith may lead us. It is an enormous moment whenever we grasp the full breadth of God's intention for us. Of course we would be afraid. It would be foolish not to be afraid in that moment.

*     *     *

One of the best pieces of advice I received from someone in my preaching education was that the biochemical process in the brain for fear and excitement are almost identical. So when you feel anxious about public speaking, tell yourself, "I'm not scared; I'm excited to talk to these people." It repurposes the adrenaline to fuel you instead of feeding anxiety. (It has been helpful for me before many a sermon.) Sometimes I've even used this to help calm grooms and brides before a wedding.

At its best, I think that is what the "fear of God" is meant to do. It's fear that doesn't cripple or hinder us (that kind of fear is trouble), but instead it feeds anticipation and fuels us to go deeper in our relationship to God. It's the feeling of standing at the altar, overwhelmed at what is happening, but also giddy to see what's next. 

To fear God doesn't mean someone doesn't understand God's love for her, but just the opposite. God is big. God will change us. God will make us vulnerable and out of our own control. So be afraid... and be excited. 

“Faith makes everybody scared. It's the unknown, the don't know, that keeps me hanging on.” -Lifehouse, "Unknown"

This Treasure in Jars of Clay

Roughly a month ago, a headline came across my facebook feed that immediately caught my attention: "Dan Haseltine, Front-man of Christian Band Jars of Clay, Takes to Twitter to Support Gay Marriage." I've been a huge fan of Jars of Clay since their debut album twenty years ago. I listen to them almost daily and quote them in sermons and blogs frequently. So the headline surprised me because I'd never heard Dan or any member of the band say anything in favor of gay marriage. As I dug deeper into the story, I came to realize that it was more complicated than the headline would suggest.

Dan had taken to Twitter with some questions that indicated he was wrestling with the Church's traditional stance on gay marriage. Many people interpreted his comments as a defense of gay marriage and a twitter firestorm erupted with many people attacking and condemning Dan and the whole band for being apostates and heretics. Dan wrote a blog article seeking to clarify his statements, which was humble and honest. (It's a great read if you want to understand what happened.) In short, he said he wasn't coming out in favor of gay marriage, but was instead publicly and honestly wrestling with the issue and wondering if there isn't a different way for Christians to approach the issue other than the well-worn trenches already established. Unfortunately, even with the explanation, many people were upset with his comments and the fact that he would wrestle with the issue at all and many nasty things were said by those attacking and defending Dan (though the band constantly spoke with and asked for grace and decorum).

Because Jars is my favorite band, because their music has been so influential on my faith and ministry over twenty years, because I deeply respect the members of the band, and because I know what it's like to have my faith on public display and occasionally misspeak in ways that upset people, the controversy touched me personally and it's taken almost a month for me to come to the point of being able to write about it. As I've followed the controversy and backlash for the past month and peeled away the layers of my own emotions, I've found my thoughts coming to rest around three perspectives.

A Historical Perspective

One thing that strikes me as troubling is the way that honest inquiry on the part of Dan was shot down as unChristian, unGodly, unholy. I saw one comment on twitter that said Dan should take this up with his pastor, not discuss it publicly. Many others took a variation on the classic "The Bible says it; I believe it; that settles it" to say there's nothing to discuss and anyone who wrestles with applying scripture to daily life is a heretic and apostate.

I'm saddened by how it seems that many in the Church are unwilling to even discuss difficult topics and prefer to stake a flag and lob stones at anyone that disagrees with them. The church has continuously wrestled with difficult topics from the time of Christ. I can understand why many in the Church read the Biblical witness and conclude that homosexuality is a sin (I don't), but to speak as though church doctrine has always been a settled matter ignores the historical arguments the Church had over the divinity/humanity of Jesus, circumcision, inclusion of gentiles, Gnosticism, Pelagianism, Arianism, the Great Schism, the real presence in communion, infant/adult baptism, infallibility of the Pope, sacraments, everything related to the Reformation, divorce, abolition/slavery, women's ordination, and on and on. 

From the moment Jesus ascended into heaven and left the Gospel in the hands of human beings, the Church has always wrestled with what we believe and understand about God and the Bible and how they impact our lives in our current age. Wrestling honestly with an issue like homosexuality and gay marriage isn't unChristian; it's the definition of a living faith.

A Cultural Perspective

The fact that the story took off in the first place is in large part because some mainstream media misread Dan's tweets and started posting articles with titles like the one above. As Dan explained in his blog, he was asking questions, not stating positions, but the media seemed to make a leap that since he wasn't openly hostile towards LGBT people, he must be in favor of marriage equality. At the same time, many Christians made comments that took the opposite position, saying if he didn't clearly condemn homosexuality and gay marriage, his position was no different than being in favor of it.

This raises a couple questions in my mind that bear consideration: 1) What does it say that it's considered newsworthy when a Christian doesn't openly attack our LGBT neighbors? 2) What does it say that we can't seem to recognize a middle ground where people are "undecided" or looking for a new way to examine a taut issue? 2b) If everything is simply black and white, then where do we find room for learning, listening, creativity, compromise, or wonder?

A Theological Perspective

I once heard a friend say that the church has classically operated under the model expecting new disciples/members to first Believe (what we believe) and then Behave (do what we do) before they Belong (you are one of us). That is certainly the pattern I see in many of the negative comments directed at Dan and Jars of Clay: because you don't Believe exactly what I believe and won't Behave and say things the way I think is correct, then I won't listen to your music and you aren't Christian (you don't Belong).

But when I look at how Jesus acted with people, he used a different order. Usually he told people they Belonged (you are healed; you are forgiven; follow me), then they Believed (Jesus is a prophet/the messiah/the Son of God), and then Jesus told them to Behave (go and sin no more; go and do likewise; go in peace).

I wonder if the church wouldn't be better off if we focused on building loving relationships more than scrutinizing each other's theological nuances. After all, it was through being in relationship with Jesus that the Twelve became disciples. They belonged before they behaved. The old hymn doesn't say "they will know we are Christians by our doctrinal purity." It says we will be known by our love, an idea that comes straight from the mouth of Jesus (John 13:35).

Conclusion: A Personal Perspective

When I was twenty years old, I began to wrestle honestly and publicly with my religious beliefs around homosexuality. I had been taught and believed that it was a sin, but my justifications for my position felt inadequate the more I thought about them. I spent almost two years reading, studying, and seeking counsel from people I respected. I am grateful for the fact that through it all, those in my life who fell on both sides of the issue walked with me, gave me space to ponder and question, and, above all, demonstrated through their actions that I belonged regardless of where I landed.

I pray for Dan and for all people that wrestle with difficult issues that they would be loved and supported as I was. Beyond that, I pray that the Church may become known as a place where such questions are expected and people can disagree yet still belong to one another in Christ.

The Bible verse that Jars of Clay takes their name from is 2 Corinthians 4:7, which reads "We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us." In other words, the treasure of God's all-surpassing love and grace is greater than the fragile, earthen vessels of our lives. Such hope has held the Church together through centuries of disagreements and it will for centuries to come.

“To grip the rose unfearful is to meet the thorn.” –Jars of Clay, "No One Loves Me Like You"

The Wounded Christ

(Note: This post first appeared in my church's newsletter.)

As we approach another Easter, there is one detail in the story of the resurrection that always fascinates me and yet, I’ve never read anything about it in commentaries or heard a sermon about it. It’s a detail that doesn’t always show up in the readings for church until the week after Easter, when we read about Thomas the Confessor (instead of the Doubter, but that’s for another column).

The detail that always fascinates me is that Jesus is still wounded.

I’d think that the God that can restart Jesus’ heart and lungs after two days could stitch up the holes in his hands, feet, and side. After all, throughout the Gospels, God’s power cures leprosy, heals blindness, and makes legs walk again. So why does Jesus still carry wounds?

In the Gospel accounts, the wounds function partly as identification. Jesus greets the bewildered disciples and says, “Put your hands in my side and touch my hands.” (John 20:20, for example) But wouldn’t scars have worked just as well? (Note he says “IN my side,” not “here’s the scar.”) And surely they would have recognized him without that, right?

I’m not sure why the power of God would have chosen to leave Jesus wounded, but I’ve come to develop my own meaning for them. As I read the story now, I reflect on the way in which even after resurrection and new life, we carry scars and wounds. Even though God gives us new life in Christ, being baptized or saved or redeemed or resurrected (or whatever word you prefer) doesn’t make us perfect. Though God imbues us with holiness, we still carry reminders of frailty. 

And that holds true for all of the resurrection moments in our lives, all of the second chances and new beginnings that we experience. Whenever we greet a new start, we carry our old wounds with us. It’s an image for which I’m grateful because it reminds me that I’m human, simultaneously sinner and saint, as Martin Luther would put it, and those scars connect me with others in their lives. As Train sang in their song “Bruises,” “These bruises make for better conversation… You’re not alone in how you’ve been. Everybody loses; we’ve all got bruises.” Even Jesus.

“Yes and I will run the distance, if you’ll please, please excuse my crutch.” -Vigilantes of Love, “Resplendent”

What Alec Baldwin Can Teach Us About Loving Our Enemies

Alec Baldwin is apparently done with the media. I learned this from a recent op-ed piece in the Washington Post. Depending what you think of Alec Baldwin and his many public and political opinions, you may greet this news with joy, disappointment, or indifference (I'll take option 3 myself), but the op-ed article highlighted a fascinating quote from Baldwin's farewell interview:

"In the New Media culture, anything good you do is tossed in a pit, and you are measured by who you are on your worst day. What’s the Boy Scout code? Trustworthy. Loyal. Helpful. Friendly. Courteous. Kind. Obedient. Cheerful. Thrifty. Brave. Clean. Reverent. I might be all of those things, at certain moments. But people suspect that whatever good you do, you are faking. You’re that guy. You’re that guy that says this."

I happened to read this article the week after the assigned text for preaching was Matthew 5:38-48, which includes the command to "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." These have never been the easiest words of Jesus to understand or follow, but coupled with Baldwin's words, I began thinking about what specifically makes an enemy. 

I almost never use the word "enemy" to describe a person, but there are people I may be angry with or distrust or find it difficult to like. How much of that anger or distrust is tied up in my judging them by who they are on their worst day and discounting the good they do? How often do I assume that the things that annoy me about a person are the "real" side of them and the good I see is just an abnormality? (Or, on the flip side, do I always assume the best about a person and ignore obvious defects?) 

Baldwin's point is that we often let that initial opinion or the most extreme fact about a person define them for us. I don't think that's anything new, but our modern social media does spread our worst moments faster and farther than ever before. The poorly phrased thing I once said to a couple people is now said on Facebook or Twitter, never to be fully erased. The stupid thing I did before a few strangers at the mall can now be seen by a million strangers on Youtube if someone happens to catch it on their phone. The writer herself makes the same point: 

"Still, everyone’s living in public, never far from a camera or a smartphone. And all our unsuccessful gestures get caught — in print, on tape, where they can stick." (Emphasis mine)

The fact is that we are all far more complicated than any one adjective or opinion. We have a wide variety of opinions, moods, and interests and no one of them -- good or bad -- defines who an individual is. (It's similar to those who take the craziest verses from the Bible and say, "See, the whole thing is a joke," but that's another post for the future.) It's easy to forget this with celebrities or others who we only know through the snippets of their lives we see on TV, but do we apply the same thinking to those we should know better? The thing is, I know people are complex (and made in the image of a complex God), but I don't always live that way. I can very often reduce people to a label like shy, super friendly, opinionated, or liberal/conservative and make assumptions (good or bad) based on that one trait.

Perhaps loving our enemies starts with choosing to look past the labels and see them as more complicated, rounded people. Perhaps it means refusing to think that the worst in a person is all that matters or that our point of biggest disagreement is the most important thing in our relationship. After all, if someone were to report on my words and actions on my worst day, I would come across as very unsympathetic. But you might also say I would appear very... human.  And that's a trait I share with friend and enemy alike.

“Your dirt removes my blindness; your pain becomes my peace.” -Jars of Clay, "Frail"

A Critique of "Preacher" by OneRepublic

One of my Christmas gifts this year was the album "Native" by OneRepublic.  I was excited to get the album because my interest in the band has been growing ever since I had the chance to see them in Central Park this summer on our youth servant trip to New York City. My interest was further piqued when I noticed a song on the album titled "Preacher" and I eagerly listened to this song that shared a name with my profession.

The song deals with the singer as a young man and his grandfather, who was the titular preacher of the song. What I love about the song is the positive light the grandfather is shown in and the closing line of the chorus: "He was a million miles from a million dollars, but you could never spend his wealth." I love those parts because most popular media portrays my colleagues and I as an unbending hell-fire moralist (like John Lithgow in "Footloose") or as a well-meaning, but somewhat clueless grandpa figure. We are almost never portrayed as complex, real people (both men AND women) living ordinary lives. (The closest example I can think of are the Edward Norton and Ben Stiller characters in "Keeping the Faith.")

So, thumbs up for singing about pastors as down-to-earth, hard-working people, because most of us are (or try to be). But then the song includes this line: "He said God only helps those who learn to help themselves."

Ugh.

I hear this verse quoted a lot by Christians and I get it. It is an attractive idea to believe God rewards or blesses those who have first done something to deserve it. It fits in with everything else we are taught in society, right? Work hard and you'll get the promotion, etc. The phrase is simple and easy to remember and a good motivator to live properly.

And all that is fine and good, except for the fact that it isn't a Bible verse. The phrase "God helps those who help themselves" doesn't appear anywhere in scripture. (It actually comes from Greek philosophy.) In fact, when we read the Bible, we actually find God frequently helping those who can't help themselves. Many of the people God calls are cowards, dimwits, or weaklings. The chosen people of Israel (with the exception of a few glorious years under David and Solomon) are usually the schoolyard chumps, getting kicked around by their bigger and stronger neighbors. When Jesus is wandering around Palestine, he is helping and healing those who are most desperate and vulnerable and none of the Gospel writers remember him saying, "So what have you done to cure your leprosy on your own?" And, in places like the minor prophets and Matthew 25, God gets angry with humans that don't help the helpless, too (i.e. the poor, the sick, the hungry, etc.).

Rather than demanding people help themselves before gaining any divine attention, the Bible speaks of a God who seeks out the helpless and blesses them. In the church, we have a technical term for this kind of thing. We call it grace.

Grace is the belief that every good thing from God -- God's love, forgiveness, special attention in our time of need -- are not something we earn or deserve, but are a gift. They come to us not because we have "helped ourselves," but because God chooses to be generous. And this grace is a cornerstone of Christian thinking.

It's a crazy idea. It's crazy to us as industrious, goal-oriented North Americans. We want to earn things, to deserve them. But it was a crazy idea in ancient history, too. In one of the readings my church used last weekend, St. Paul tells the church in Corinth that this thinking is "a stumbling block" and "foolishness" to most of the world. While it may seem natural to us to take pride in earning rewards, or boasting in our spiritual accomplishments, grace doesn't leave any room for that. As Paul writes in that passage, "Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord."

For me, grace may grate on me when I want to take credit for the good I do, but it is good news on those days when I seem incapable of "helping myself," when I am painfully aware of my mistakes and shortcomings. On those days, hearing that God loves me and can do good in spite of me truly is a wealth that cannot be spent.

"Dreaming about the things that we could be." -OneRepublic, "Counting Stars"