What about me?

This may a little too ambitious. Well, the possibility exists that this should be at least two blogs. But, who's counting? Let me begin by saying that in the past several years, I have become a loud critic of the church. Because I am a selfish American, I usually think of the church as North American Christian culture. Let me say, too, though, that in my travels to China, Venezuela, and Mexico in recent years (and Canada, I guess?), I have come to see that the Body of Christ exists in rugged, beautiful, sublimely powerful ways far outside of what we in the good 'ol USA think of as church. Back to my point, though. I have become a loud critic of American Christian culture. To better describe my point, let me make a short list of things that range from mild irritations to infuriating about church in America.

1. our incessant need to Christian-ize everything (is it even possible to have "Christian aerobics"?)
2. pet sins (um... why is being in a gay relationship worse than having an affair?)
3. "Christian" music - seriously, where is the dividing line between secular and sacred when it comes to art? and can a song or cd be "saved"?
   
4. bullhorns (don't get me started)
   
5. horrible tippers that leave tracts
6. churches that are exceptionally uncomfortable places for "sinners" for all the wrong reasons
7. The trendy garbage that goes on (lessee... WWJD, Prayer of Jabez, The God Chasers, Max Lucado, I Can Only Imagine, Casting Crowns, The Shack, to name a few)
   

You see what I mean? These are the kinds of things that drive me nuts. What if followers of Jesus went to aerobics with the unwashed masses? What if we actually loved sinners the way that Christ does? What if we learned to appreciate voices that speak truth that don't come from inside the church? What if we tarred and feathered the jackasses that scream at people with a bullhorn (OK, maybe that's over the top)? What if we stopped using tracts to do our dirty work and generously shared our lives with the people who serve us in stores and restaurants? What if we loved much, so that if sinners came into our gatherings, they experienced the power of shared lives? What if we slowed down and and actually mulled over scripture? What if we allowed a life-changing wealth of shared experiences speak to us and flow from our lives into the lives of others?

Everything I have said up to this point has been to describe a little of how and why I am become so cynical of the U.S. church culture. So here's where I am going with this... I am learning that being a critic (and/or) a cynic is about the easiest job in the world. The problem comes when the realization hits that anyone can do it. And no matter who does it, it pretty much helps no one. There are two ways that this has recently hit home for me.

Way 1.) All my liberal friends.
I have several really close friends that are pretty far to the left. One of my friends told me he thinks the death tax should be 100%. Several others believe that in the very least, the government should regulate prices in the healthcare industry. Another friend of mine told me he thinks that Obama's HC plan is left of McCain's, Hilary's was left of Obama's, and Hilary's didn't do near enough to fix the problems. Now, my personal belief is that liberal politics has never helped anyone. I think it's never worked in any country as a long term solution to any problem. My belief is that entitlement programs enslave people and erode freedom. I don't know that I can think of one thing that the government can do more efficiently and cost effectively than private industry. However, my liberal friends have shown themselves to be highly motivated, productive, intelligent people in almost every area of life you can name. They are ministers writers, professionals, and artists. As any thinking man would, I asked myself, "What gives?". The conclusion I have come to is this: my liberal friends are compassionate people. Pretty much any of them would do anything they could to help people. All of them have helped me out numerous times. As such, and being familiar with some of the social issues that wreak destruction in so many lives, they are motivated by their compassion to believe for change. I'll say that they have more faith than I do. I applaud their courage and willingness to believe. While I don't agree with their political views, I trust their hearts and their motivations. This realization has led me to thoughtfully consider how far I might be willing to go for social justice. The bottom line for me is that I don't trust the government to do jack squat for anyone without creating indentured servants. But what about me?

Way 2.) I listened to a man with whom I am becoming good friends preach a hell of a sermon last Sunday. In Matthew 25 there is the passage that talks about the "least of these". Jesus says that whatever we do to the broken, whatever we do to the poor, whatever we do to the down-trodden, whatever we do to the widows and orphans, whatever we do to the criminals, we do to Him. It gets much more difficult, though. He also says that whatever we fail to do for those same people, we fail to do for Him. The people in the story say something like, "Jesus, we didn't know it was you! If we would have known, we would've gladly helped you out. We thought it was the unwashed masses." He replies, "Depart from me, I never knew you." The profound implication is this: if we have a relationship with Jesus, we will recognize Him in the lost and broken. If we really know Him, we will see Him in the unwed mother and the crack addict, we will see Him under bridges and in prison cells. We will find him in the ghetto and in public schools. It may also be true that if we abandon these places and these people, we may not see Him at all. In Ezekial 39, the prophet tells a tale of fat sheep and thin sheep. He says that the fat sheep become fat at the expense of the skinny sheep because they nudge them out of the way at feeding time. The point is this: God provides, but he leaves it to our disgression to distribute. Isn't it odd that there are nations in the world that see their populations starving literally to death while in the U.S.A., the greatest medical problems we face are related to obesity and overeating.

So... I still find fault with North American church culture. I still don't believe any government can be trusted to take care of it's weakest citizens. It isn't enough to trust in a Darwinian survival of the fittest. It isn't even enough for me to take responsibility for myself and my family. I think I must be compelled by the love of Christ to love the "least of these". I think I must be on the lookout for the thin sheep and bring them to my table. I don't think God is asking me to eradicate world hunger. He is asking me to feed the hungry. He is asking me to visit the sick. He is asking me to take care of orphans and widows. Make no mistake. There is no points system. There can be no ulterior motive. Because He has rescued me; because He loves me; because of who He is, I must find a way to love.

The Devils' Holiday

I don't really have too many memories of Halloween growing up. One of the earliest is that we had a party at my house, including some of the traditional (?) Halloween games like bobbing for apples. The coolest thing about this particular party was that my mom used this old beater camera to take some photos. She gathered all of us kids (I think I was in 2nd or 3rd grade) and took one picture with our masks on and the next one with our masks off. The masks were those cheap plastic kinds with the low grade rubber band that pops off withing seconds of donning the mask. What ends up happening is that you keep re-tying the rubber band until it's so tight your eyelids are poking out the eye slits. But I digress... The point of this story is that the two pictures my mom took with the old camera superimposed on each other. The effect was startling - you could see through the masks! It was a little creepy. The other semi-vivid memory I have of Halloween is being home by myself as a young teenager, maybe 13 or 14. I turned off all the lights, locked the door, and watched Halloween (the original movie). It was pretty scary. When trick or treaters knocked, I simply ignored them. I think that my humbug mentality was already setting in.
At some point along the way, I decided that Halloween was an evil holiday. I decided not to participate at all. I was even perturbed by churches having their little psuedo-halloween parties, sometimes called "Hallelujah Parties" or "Fall Festivals". Even after I got married and had kids, we didn't celebrate Halloween. As my kids began to get older, it became harder and harder to remember, let alone explain to them, why I stopped celebrating "The Devil's Holiday". Last year, we got together with some friends and took the kids trick or treating. It was a good time. This year, fat and sassy with success from last year's candy haul, we decided to take the kids out in our new neigborhood (we bought a house in near downtown Amarillo in July). It was awesome. Tracy and I, accompanied by a lady bug, Shirley Temple, two zombies, a princess, and "the chicken" attacked the neighborhood zealously in a two hour marathon candy orgy. We had a great family time, thoroughly enjoying the company of our kids and their two friends. There were people out everywhere. We stopped and chatted with many, bumped into a few neighbors and friends. It was a great time. At some point, I wondered why I ever decided to stop celebrating Halloween. The cynic in me, ever present, is quick to point out that even in a "crappy" economy, the candy shelves at Wal-Mart were empty, a testament to the blatant commercialism of late October. Even so, my family and I enjoyed getting out in the 'hood, having some laughs, and being together.
As a follower of Jesus, it is sometimes difficult to determine which parts of culture are worthy of embracing. In my opinion, Halloween has passed the test for this family.