the problem with "pre-Christians"

As part of the "All Things New" paperwork, I have been asked to think about times recently where I have engaged and entertained "pre-Christians".

The first time that the phrase was used, I answered the question... kind of. Instead I talked about post-Christians. I encounter quite a few of these... they once went to church and now they don't. They find church to be... too... rigid, too closed, not meeting them where they are. I get these people. Truthfully, I see their point and have felt the same way. At times, I feel that I could slip away and be at home with that life. I expect a lot of the church, it is the body of Christ after all, and there are times when I feel that it has lost sight of who She is supposed to be. The church seems filled with personal agendas, and God I pray that they are not mine.

The second time that that phrase was used in a question, I didn't even attempt to answer the question. Instead, I ranted about the phrase. To call someone who doesn't believe in Christ a pre-Christian makes it sound like Christianity is their destination. As if, we are all on the road to Christ. As if any other path to God is invalid and illegitimate. Those days of us as outsiders thankful to be grafted are long gone... clearly.

The Barna group* posted a study a couple of weeks ago citing why young adults are leaving the church. Leaving. There are some there despite what you might hear on a Sunday morning. One of the reasons why they are leaving is because of the exclusive claim of Christianity. The walls that have come to surround the city make the light that shines within not visible.

I don't like the phrase "pre-Christian". I find it offensive. Offensive enough that I am willing to tell them why. I am willing to write it down and have it go in a file that will follow me everywhere I go. Every time that the cabinet sits down to make an appointment there will be this document in a folder with my name on it before them. And so despite how stupid this seems,  here is why I won't actually answer their question...

it does us no good to talk about Christ in ways that are not gracious (exclusivity is not gracious)
if the only reason why we are engaging people is to help covert them, then we have sadly misunderstood what relationship is about
I believe that we no longer live in a Christian culture--we need to stop acting like we have home field advantage.

I have tried other ways to God. I almost converted to Islam. I thought hard about Judaism. I have been greatly moved by the Vedanta understanding that incarnation happens every moment--that every moment we are baptized into a new life, as new creations. And in this all, I have realized that Jesus is the way to God for me. That the beauty that I have found in other faith traditions is real, but Christ stirs in me something that the other paths were not able to.

I have met great men and women who seek God with all they have, but their label will never be "Christian". This doesn't necessarily have anything to do with Christ, but it has to do with Christianity.

Let's try not to label people with our labels... I don't think that it will serve us well

http://www.barna.org/teens-next-gen-articles/528-six-reasons-young-christians-leave-church#.ToxQX97cVdE.facebook

looking up

So, as I was killing time last week while the kids were at their after school sports practice, I went over to Macy's at North DeKalb Mall and I saw this sign: Men working above. 

I looked up. There were no men. There were not even a bunch women with one man among them (as the Greek may imply). I looked up and I only saw the ceiling of the awning.

Men working above? Where? 

Everywhere we look we see signs. Some pointing us to things that we can see, some pointing beyond the visible. 

When we look up, sometimes all we see are ceilings and awnings that block us from seeing something more, Someone bigger.  We look up and we see rusted lights, frayed wires, exposed fixtures, places that birds and bugs have made as their home... and that's all we see. We don't step out from the under the protection of the awning to look for more. 

I admit that I saw this sign and I laughed. I thought about how the "men" were a trinitarian God and started humming the old Gaither song, "he's still working on me". And then I chided myself for the maculation of God. Someone should report that to the Conference rep of COSROW  :) 

But the Men... the Man... the Woman...Sophia... the army of the Lord is not working above. We cannot/should not look up to see how God is working, but as people of the Incarnate God and people who believe that we are to be the hands and feet of God we know to look vertically. To look around our communities, our churches, our city streets to find the evidence that God is working. The work is done by us because of our love for Jesus and our belief that He is the one who calls us, leads us, and ordains us. 

So, if you decide to follow the signs that point the way, remember to step out of the safety of the awning. You might get wet, you might get burned but you can't get a glimpse of God in the world if you never enter the world. Look up, but look beyond and step out. 

what hannah teaches me

My daughter Hannah is such a great little advocate. Her 5th grade teacher told me that if she ever needed someone to stand on her side and be her voice, that she would choose Hannah. I love how her heart aches for the least of these. She might just relate to them. 

I sometimes think of her as my little progressive Christian and it makes me smile. I am sure that one day she will find herself a nice conservative, bible literalist and will refuse to hold his hand until they are married. And it will drive me insane.

I see how huge heart her is and it makes me honored to know her. I say all this because I talk to her about things and sometimes I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t. Now, I am not talking about the business meetings of the church or telling her annoying habits of her father (she wouldn't care, nor notice). That is not what I mean.

Yesterday, the State of Georgia executed a man. Guilty or not, we may never know. But I asked Hannah on Monday if they were talking about it at school and she said no. So, I told her the story of Troy Davis. And of course, I ended the story with my theological reasons for being against the death penalty. I know that my words will impact how she views this topic. Which is why I wonder if I should share them at times like these.

I ask myself:

What is the value of discovering the realities of life on your own? 

How is my sharing with her why I believe that any act that dishonors the sanctity of life is wrong different from someone who believes that one race, one gender or one sexual orientation is the only way to be or else you are inferior or an abomination? Isn’t it hypocrisy for me to think that it is okay for me to teach my children what I believe and then roll my eyes in disgust when someone else does the same thing?

I feel that I was allowed to discover and pursue issues on my own as I matured. My mom made room for to do so. That is hard to do.

Last night, while the Supreme Court had possession of the case and the fate of Troy Davis I talked to Hannah again. I reminded her of what I had said on Monday night—about how death penalty cases are often political, they often only affect non-whites and how they are about retaliation and not rehabilitation and redemption. But then I told her about the crime—about how an off duty police officer was killed trying to help a homeless man who was beaten. She asked me questions, voiced her outrage about the beating of a homeless man—you shouldn’t do that she cried.

And then I talked to her about how the family of that officer was trying to get to some relief to their pain and suffering by having the man who killed their loved one punished to the fullest extent of the law. She understood that side, too.

My prayers are with both families today.

We live in a complex world and I think that we owe it to our children and each other to honor that. As parents, it’s our job to teach and lead our children and give them what they will need to be competent adults.  That means presenting more than just our favored opinions. We owe it to each other to be more open about the possibilities. 

letting the doors open

this week i am preaching on prayer and so i have been thinking a lot about it. been thinking about why i pray. how i pray. when i pray. realizing that i should pray more because being able to talk about how i pray or that i pray or that i will pray makes me feel more holy.

how i pray is far more in touch with anne lamott's approach of "help me, help me, help me..." and "thank you, thank you, thank you..." than it is with the beautiful prayers of henri nouwen or any of the saints of old.

this is a typical tara prayer:
sigh. god, why did i say that? am i ever going to learn? okay, maybe i will. help me deal with the ramifications of being an idiot. i pray that they are not too bad or too big or too memorable.
help me not tell ______ what i really think when they ask me that stupid question AGAIN. or at least, help me say it in a nice way or in a confusing way so that they doesn't understand it and want to drop it.
sigh again.
god, work in me so that i am a lot more like you than i am like me.
maybe, i am just really tired. would a vacation help? where should i go? i do love the beach? oh, the air as it comes off of the water. the warmth of the sand. cool drinks in the warm air. the smell of the salt. i will come back to that when we are done here. sorry, god.
help me lead the people that you have entrusted unto me. lead me so that this is not about me. i want to be obedient--show me your way.
be with _____...


I try not to call people names in my prayers. i dont think that god likes that. now, you know why i have been thinking a lot of prayer this week. my prayers are quite pitiful. i believe that scripture that god knows the moanings of our souls and the holy spirit interprets them. for me my moanings are sighs.

I was thinking about prayer a couple of weeks ago as i was laying in bed saying my prayers at night. I remember when i went before the board of ordained ministry to be commissioned and this man (laity) was so mad that i prayed at bed time. he said that he hates it when ppl say that they pray at bed time bc when you pray at night you fall asleep and you are not giving god your best-- you are giving god your last. at least, i think that was his point. this is why i always pray at night (other times are not so scheduled and ritualized): when i pray at night it is to open the doors and let my day escape. i deal with the good moments, the bad moments, the frustrating and challenging and spend that time with god telling Him about what is on my heart. i let the doors open so that the stuff that i keep compartmentalized can run free for a while. i used to pray at night to raise the walls--like as a protection against things that go bump in the night. but now, those things that go bump in the night are things inside of me and i need to let them free, not trap them with a wall of protection. so i lay quietly, with conan on in the background and tell god my hopes and fears and stresses and pains and let all of them mingle in the goodness of god... hoping that like bubbles in the water they will evaporate and dissolve. knowing that they will, but sometimes it takes time.

now there is a part of prayer that is listening. and honestly, i am not very good at that, at least not at night. i have to find silence to hear god. listening is for the morning. for when i am alone in the sanctuary before the staff arrive at the church. sitting listening to the wood beams creak and pop. in those moments i hear god. i open the doors here, too. i find that i have to make room for the Presence.

i wont be sharing these thoughts on sunday. i am too busy hoping that i can muster up enough stuff to divert their attention away from me :)

the menu

everyday about this time, i try to figure out what i want for lunch. even if i am sitting in a restaurant looking at a menu, i try to figure out how to take the combination of ingredients that they offer and put them together in a way that is appealing to me. my friend says that every restaurant should just have something called "the tara"--the meal that i have already created from their current offerings. they should.  but i am willing to offer that i should have had to order it at least 3 times before they do that.

it's kind of an overindulgent and over blessed problem, i realize and i certainly feel a little petty complaining about my super taster taste buds, but they do complicate my life. pepper is a little too much for me. i like my life far more spicy than my food. i have tried and it's just too much for me (the food).

i spent this morning reading from the book of acts. this sunday i am preaching the cornelius story--talking about how kingdom of heaven makes us more open, but reading about peter's vision as he prayed made me long for food.... a large blanket filled with forbidden foods.... bacon wrapped anything (no shrimp mentioned)... delish. which made me wonder what am i having for lunch?

i am tempted to try something new... maybe, live a little bit more like peter. step outside of what i am comfortable with and taste and see that the Lord is good. we will see. i need to put my hands and eyes on the menu before i can decide that. but i am willing to try. if i am going to encourage the people that i lead to open themselves us to flavors of life metaphorically, then i should be willing to do it literally...

There is this story in the book of Acts (19:1-10) where Paul is passing through Ephesus and he stumbles upon some disciples (appropriately numbering 12). I hope that there is more dialogue than what is being recorded, because Paul in his typical anti-foreplay kind of way just jumps right into the conversation and relationship with all sorts of rudeness and presumptuousness. Having met these disciples, he asks them if when they were became believers if they received the Holy Spirit. They said no. And Paul, all concerned inquires into what they were baptized and they said the baptism of John--which is one of repentance. So, Paul remedies the situation and rebaptizes them.

It's these kinds of stories that frustrate me with Paul. I admit that my issues with Paul really stem from the way that the church has used Paul's writings over the centuries as a way of drawing lines and I wonder if Paul had known how his words would be used if he would have chosen different ones. Maybe, he would have been even less yielding. Who knows. But I tend to lean away from Paul when he is up because of this. Not completely fair. I realize.

Besides pointing to the fact that Paul re-baptized someone (the methodist in me cringed), this episode points us to an awareness that the Gospel as we know it and as we practice it is not the only legitimate form. The disciples that Paul met that day were clearly living like followers of Jesus; they had gotten the message and believed. They had a less complete (though not wrong) understanding of one element of The Way. After the resurrection and ascension, the apostles went out and told the story of Jesus and just like the Gospels, they had different understandings of what happened and interpreted the events differently. Sometimes big differences, sometimes very small.

But in this episode, Paul wants to correct and make these other disciples more like the way that he understands. I don't blame him; we all do that. We correct seen fallacies.

However, I like to think that the Gospel is bigger than we than we make it out to be. It is bigger than one understanding.  And so the struggle is how to be open to more than one way of understanding; how not to come across as judgmental or condescending. How do we try to make others not in our image?

cleaning the unknown dirty

Today, Jim and I participated in the exciting sabbath activity of cleaning the cabinets in the kitchen. It was actually more joyful than it sounds--good time with my husband--and the realization that I am becoming more and more like my mother was less than painful than it used to be.

As we almost finished the cleaning, Jim says to me something like, "it's funny how the cabinets can get so dirty and you never notice it." I thought about how true that is. How that is true of sin in our lives--whether it is choices that we make--to continue to disregard God's desires for us--or the sin that is committed against us--like oppression, abuse, neglect. We become immune to it's effects on our lives. Slowly the grime of selfish actions builds until it finally gets noticed--often not by ourselves.

It takes fresh eyes to see how the grime has built on our hearts. It often doesn't happen over night. It often takes someone who cares enough to pause and look.

And I look at the grime of the cabinets and there is also a positive.

The picture above is of the last cabinet that we cleaned. The dirt around the handle not as visible as on the other cabinets before their purging of dirt, grime and grease that built up after years of use. In that dirt are memories of little kids' hands, dogs jumping up in an effort to reach food that was not intended for them, countless numbers of home cooked meals, and homemade stained-glass (AKA shrinky-dinks). That dirt tells a story, too.

Our scars are often like that-- they show moments of where life has gotten dirty--where we have pain and yet they heal and in them we can see a blessing. The scar that shows that we survived cancer or that we got a new knee. When the time is right, we might be willing to show our scars... to show the world that we made it.

As for my cabinets they are clean.  My rags however, will probably have to be thrown away. There is a cost to being made clean again. How appropriate that it was Easter dish towel that paid the price for cleanliness.