The Irreverent Reverend

I believe the word “stuff” is one of the most important theological words of our time.  It describes not only what we possess, but what possesses us.

On the one hand we can see our stuff when we look around our houses. Most of us have way too much stuff. On the other hand, there is stuff that we see when look inside, when we look at our lives and see what holds onto us. Our stuff can be our place in society, our respectability in the world, our reputation at work or in the community, our place in the family as matriarch or patriarch.  We get our value and our power from lots of places and it orders our relationships.

Deep down inside we know, however, that our “stuff” either internal or external is not the source of happiness or contentment. It doesn’t mean we don’t spend a lot of time and money trying to do just that. That struggle is an invitation to have some serious dialog about how we live our lives, where our priorities are and what we truly value.  It is not an easy or a comfortable journey.

Joan Chittister noted, we are to hold all things with a perpetually relaxed grasp. It is a spiritual discipline that invites us to daily dialog with our priorities, how we spend our time and our money. Once we get an eyeball full of that, we can go on to the next thing.   

Jesus was completely consistent in his teachings about wealth and poverty. He blasted the political and religious leaders who extorted money from the poorest of the poor. He harshly judged those who laid unreasonable burdens on those who had so little, for the sake of those who had so much. He was also consistent in revealing a way of life that was life giving. In our heart of hearts, we know it to be true that “stuff” will never fill the empty places that live inside, no matter how much prestige we may have and how many possessions we may own. Deep inside we long for the joy and freedom that Jesus’ way of life brings. Augustine said it best, “Our hearts are restless until they come to rest in thee.” 

A spiritual director at a clergy retreat asked us to make a list of the five most important things in our lives.  I was young, newly married and newly ordained. I had the world by the tail.  I zipped through my list in about six seconds: family, marriage, church, ministry, and my beloved horse Cromwell.

We carried the lists around with us until the second day of the retreat.  At breakfast she began writing on the newsprint in our meeting area, “Can it die?  Can it be taken away?  Is it something you can touch?” 

Then the work began.  She said, “If you answered yes to any of these things in relationship to your list, you are an idolater.” Gulp.

I had written down all the respectable things, all the things I was supposed to value. I acknowledged the luxury of my equine companion whom I adored. The exercise left me at odds with myself and my choices. I have spent the ensuing years trying to learn the lesson; I expect it will take the rest of my life to make much progress. 

I don’t know what the answer is for you; I am having enough trouble figuring out the answer for me.  Holding all things with a perpetually relaxed grasp is a reminder that we don’t get to ignore the question. It’s not about what we own. It’s about what owns us.

A group of geography students were begriming a segment on the Seven Wonders of the World. They students were asked to list what they considered to be the Seven Wonders of the World. Though there was some disagreement, the following got the most votes: Egypt’s Great Pyramids, the Taj Mahal, the Grand Canyon, the Panama Canal, the Empire State Building, St. Peter’s Basilica and China’s Great Wall.

While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one student hadn’t turned in her paper yet. So the teacher asked if she was having trouble with her list. The girl replied, “Yes, a little. I can’t quite make up my mind because there are so many.”

The teacher said, “Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help.” The girl hesitated then read, “I think the Seven Wonders of the World are to touch and to taste, to see and to hear…”  She hesitated a little and continued, “to run and to laugh and to love.”

Og Mandino, in chapter nine of the Greatest Miracle in the world noted that right now as you are reading this, millions of sensors in your eyes translate the written words into things comprehended by your brain.

As you sit here, notice your heart beating, touch your chest and feel its rhythm.  Close your eyes and feel its gentle steady beat, day in day out year after year, thirty six million beats per year pumping your blood through thousands of miles of veins, arteries and capillaries, nourishing every cell of your body, pumping more than six hundred thousand gallons a year. No human invention can compare to this masterpiece of the body.

The five pints of blood that course through your body contain twenty-two trillion cells.  Each second millions of cells die and millions more are born in a pattern that began the day you were born.

Your blood is comprised of a delicate balance of cells, each with a different purpose, and together they keep your body nourished with oxygen and nutrients and carry away wastes that are processed by the body through a complex, delicate and incredibly durable system that is like none other. 

Without thinking about it your lungs take in air, distill oxygen from it and pass it to the blood. What is left over is exhaled. This happens day in day out over seven million times each year.

Your three pound brain is the most complex system in the universe.  Billions of cells capture every taste, sight, sound and perception.  In the midst of it all there is the gift of memory, the ability to recall a face, a word, a sunset and the cornucopia of fall color on a hillside.

Look at your hands; 27 bones surrounded by a series of muscles and ligaments and nerves. Covered with skin, which is an amazing and durable thing; your hands move on command of the brain.  Hands do everything from transporting food, creating music, performing the most delicate of tasks to wrapping themselves around the hand of someone we love.  When was the last time you pondered your hands?

We have the capacity to taste and savor what enters our mouths: fresh baked bread, the sweetness of a ripe apple, the satisfaction of a hearty soup on a cold day.  Our lips meet the lips of one we love and we are connected in a way that goes beyond words.

This same three pound brain works with the rest of our being to give and receive love, open ourselves to another, risk and to pray, feel and know.  We are body, mind, soul and spirit bearing the image of the Divine.

And we don’t think all that much about it.  When’s the last time you sat down and pondered your body as a truly holy creation.  I remember going to a directed spiritual retreat many years ago and the director invited us to ponder our feet. I thought she was a half-a- bubble off plumb to be honest.  But dutifully I removed my shoes and socks and went off to ponder my naked feet for a full thirty minutes.  It was pretty amazing.

Mostly when we think about our bodies we concentrate on things like height, weight and hair style. We are too much of this and not enough of that. A survey of adults between the ages of 30 and 59 showed that less than 10% of women and men were content with their body. Each year adults spend thirty three billion dollars on weight control products.

As we grow older things hurt that didn’t use to hurt: stamina decreases; ears, eyes and mind aren’t as sharp as they used to be.  And let’s not even think about gravity.  We are as apt to denigrate ourselves as the youth worshipping culture in which we live.

From time to time it’s a good thing to sit in the miracle that is our human body. It is not about being perfect. It is about being fully human and transparent before God in our beauty and our brokenness.  When we stand without shame in that truth, transparent before our maker, we are both fully human and fully alive.  It is the greatest gift we can know.  It is the root of intimacy with God and with one another. It is the mystery of being human.

Sundays were a special day in my house when I was young; the day always included pie.  What kind of pie depended on who was coming: cherry if it was grandma and grandpa, apple if it was just the four of us.  There were seasonal variations{ rhubarb in the spring and squash or pumpkin in the fall.  Sunday was pie day. 

Oh, yes, we also went to church and Sunday school too.  But truthfully, it was the pie and the company that made the day special and different from the rest of the days in my eyes.  There were no restrictions on things we could or couldn’t do. For many, Sunday was a day of thou shalt not’s.  Or as Barbara Brown Taylor noted, “Remember the Sabbath to keep it boring.”

Sabbath keeping isn’t much practiced these days, even though it is something we desperately need. Reclaiming Sabbath time is a spiritual practice that invites us to set aside what defines our value in the world’s eyes and reclaim our value in God’s eyes.  We have much to learn from our Jewish siblings when it comes to Sabbath keeping.

Sabbath has its root in Genesis.  When God was all done cobbling creation together God rested.  Creation was called good.  The Sabbath was called holy.  Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote, “The first holy thing in all creation was not a place or a people, but a day.  The seventh day is a place in time into which human beings are invited every week of their lives.”  (The Sabbath) 

For many of us, however, Sunday is a time to catch up on all the stuff that didn’t get done during the week: the ever growing mountain of laundry, vacuuming the dust balls that have grown to the size of small animals, filling the empty fridge, catching up on e-mail, washing the car and mowing the grass. 

And yet, it is precisely because of the life we live on the other six days that we need the practice and the discipline of keeping Sabbath.

Sabbath is intended to be an entire day. For many of us that seems utterly impossible. Sabbath moments, on the other hand are possible. In a few minutes each day we remember that we are human beings and not a human doings. 

In the Hebrew Union Prayer Book is this prayer for Welcoming Sabbath:

(Gates of Prayer, page 245)

Our noisy day has now descended with the sun beyond our sight.

In the silence of our praying place we close the door upon the hectic fears and joys, the accomplishments and anguish of the week we have left behind.

What was but moments ago the substance of our life has become memory; what we did must now be woven into what we are.

On this day we shall not do, but be.

We are to walk the path of our humanity, no longer ride unseeing through a world we do not touch and only vaguely sense.

No longer can we tear the world apart to make our fire.

On this day, heat and warmth and light must come from deep within ourselves.

In Sabbath time we set aside all that defines our value eyes of the world. We stop trying to earn our salvation through what we accomplish. It is then we approach the threshold of true Sabbath.

Rest, do nothing, simply be. Try it for ten minutes.  At first that is about as long as most of us can tolerate. Turn off the television, shut down the computer and sit in silence looking out the window or walking outside.  Get up a half hour earlier and just sit with your morning coffee and see where the aroma takes you.

Resolve to allow time each day to stop.  Say no to one more thing.  Do not add anything to your calendar without taking something away.  It’s an interesting spiritual discipline that brings us face to face with what is important.  If I am going to add this, is it important enough to let go of something else?  And underneath that practice will be the lingering questions; do I really believe that I am worth more than what I produce?  If I don’t accomplish anything am I really any good? 

Bracket your Sabbath moments with intention. For the next ten minutes, half hour, whatever, allow yourself to sit, read, or look out the windows. Try just being. End the allotted time with a simple prayer.  Some days it might be a prayer of thanks, other days a prayer of frustration.  Sitting and doing nothing doesn’t come naturally to most of us.  I use a singing bowl to begin and end Sabbath time, or a candle or some ritual that sets the time apart from other time.

Barbara Brown Taylor wrote, “…your day begins when you let God hold you, since you have no idea how to hold yourself-when you let God raise you up, when you consent to let yourself rest to show you get the point, since that is the last thing you would do if you were running the show yourself.” (An Altar in the World)

When you live in God, your day begins when you lose yourself long enough to let God find you, and when God finds you, to lose yourself again in praise.

Welcome the gift of Sabbath. It makes all of life holy.

D.H. Laurence was correct when he wrote, “Water is hydrogen two parts, oxygen one, but there is also a third thing, that makes water and nobody knows what that is.”

The third thing is mystery. Whatever the science may be, there is another component and one way to think of it is as mystery. 

Barbara Brown Taylor noted, all the water that has ever existed on the earth still exists, in this very moment.  The water that nourished your African violet may contain water from the woman at the well which quenched Jesus’ thirst. All the earth that has ever existed is still here in this very moment.  The dirt the dog dragged in that you sucked up in the vacuum cleaner may contain the soil that Jesus washed from the disciples’ feet. You can never quite look at the stuff in the vacuum cleaner bag the same way. (An Altar in the World)

Genesis one and two are the creation stories, according to the experience of the Israelite people. (Click here to listen to Rob Lalcy’s rendition of Genesis 1. You won’t be disappointed. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-b_7YEOfoyw&t=17s ) Walter Brueggemann wrote, “Genesis one and two are particularly and peculiarly theological. They make a break from other ancient near eastern writings in that creation, all of the world, is in the very heart of God, is deeply loved and valued by God and must be valued by the creatures to whom it is entrusted.” (pp 11-12).  That would be you and me. 

There are a couple things to be teased out here.  First, because God made it (however that happened) it is holy. Genesis one and two are statements of faith made by a people who believed in and experienced God in a way profoundly different from their neighbors who had a God for every day of the week.

Second, God is in all of this creation, from a blade of grass to a sequoia.  God is in it all and all of it is in God.  The five dollar word is panentheism.  It’s not to be confused with pantheism. Everything is God in pantheism.  Everything is IN god, and God is IN everything is panentheism.  That’s what Genesis one and two proclaim.  God is in everything and everything is in God.

Bruggemann wrote, “The text is a proclamation of covenanting as the shape of reality.”  The Creator creates creation.  The creator entrusts it to us but the purpose is already defined, and the purpose is unity.  We are to be one with what God has made. We are placed in the garden as creatures, special creatures albeit, but creatures nonetheless. 

We are to be stewards. To be a steward is to take care of something that does not belong to us.

It is a posture of reverence. It is an invitation to see with new eyes and consider our lives in a context larger than ourselves.  An earthquake half a world away in Turkey and Syria is very much our business. The disappearance of the Polar Ice Cap is very much our concern. We are to hold on to the holiness of all creation and reverence it. There is a power in that which is so far beyond what we can imagine.

Being stewards of the mystery is our invitation to think theologically about something we usually think about socially and politically.  Jim Antal’s book, Climate Church, Climate World: How People of Faith Must Work for Change, https://www.amazon.com/s?k=climate+change+climate+world&crid=27YNRH45O65Z9&sprefix=climate+change+climat%2Caps%2C338&ref=nb_sb_noss_2 explores the political, social and theological implications of living on this planet in these times.

Being green is very popular these days–debates about global climate change, degradation of the earth, over use of limited natural resources.  Make no mistake these are incredibly important conversations. Our first call, however, is not to be crunchy granola tree huggers.  It is the faithful acknowledgement that all things are in God, bearing divine fingerprint. This truth asks us to live the most faithful action we can offer, for no other reason than we are awed and we are grateful.

When we begin with awareness of who we are and whose we are our, behaviors toward creation take on new importance and new significance.  It is that awareness and faith that led one of the Talmud writers to comment, “every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and says grow grow.” 

Being stewards of the mysteries can begin by pondering the mystery.  Ponder is one of those words that has fallen on hard times, but it’s such a great word. It means to weigh in the mind with thoughtfulness and care.  I would add to it, to weigh in the spirit with gratitude and awe.  When is the last time you sat down and pondered a rock or a blade of grass or a cloud or the sound of the surf? 

It’s an invitation to get new eyes and have a new vision.  How might our lives be different if this tender sense of holiness informed how we live in our house; on our street; and in our neighborhood, church, town, country and in our world?

Whatever changes we make in behavior grow out of a changed attitude, a posture of reverence.  It’s a place to begin. And rather than give something up for Lent, I am suggesting that we ponder the mystery of creation and what it means be good stewards. Instead of doing battle with demon chocolate, or my personal favorite–all things salt and grease– I am suggesting a Lenten discipline that can raise our awareness of what it means to till the earth and keep it, to be stewards of the mysteries. 

However it happens, what matters is this:  new eyes and new vision for this fragile, gracious place we call home.  Wendell Berry said, “What I stand for is what I stand on.”

It’s a place to start.

After last week’s blog, “He Gets Us and Other Scary Things” I got to thinking, what does it mean for us to “get” Jesus? How well do we understand what Jesus was all about? As we enter the season of Lent it’s a good time to do some pondering about what Jesus was all about.

Pondering is one of those words that has fallen on hard times. It’s too bad, because it’s a great word. Pondering is an invitation, as my favorite seminary professor Maria Harris said, “to sit back on your soul.” It means we kick back and do some serious noodling on the subject at hand.

Most of the time we are so busy and our lives are so filled with noise, its seems all but impossible to carve out a few holy silent moments to ponder. I’m suggesting this might be a good Lenten discipline, to consider who Jesus really is. And if we read the gospels closely, the Jesus of the gospels is very different from the Jesus of our culture.

Lent denotes the season when Jesus makes his final entry into Jerusalem. Jesus and his ragtag band of followers have been rabble rousing wherever they and the religious poo bahs of the day were getting a little (a whole lot) annoyed with his antics. So going to Jerusalem was where the waste would hit the oscillator.

Here’s the low down. During Jesus time the Romans occupied the Holy Land. They were in some unholy cahoots with the religious leaders. They colluded to extort taxes from people who had no hope of paying them, and as a consequence lost their land. The laws of Judaism were selectively applied, and usually in ways that added tremendous piety burdens on the people.

For example, religious leaders required unblemished animals to be sacrificed at the temple. So, a marketplace was set up in the outer court of the temple where people could buy such animals. Of course the price was exorbitant and another burden was placed on the people.

At the same time other laws were systematically ignored. For example the Deuteronomic Hospitality Code, which required doing justice and loving mercy, letting the fields lie fallow in the seventh year to care for the earth, and the principles of Jubilee, which cancelled debt and returned land to its rightful owner every 50 years. Somehow they conveniently left those commandments out.

Jesus and his followers had a habit of pointing out uncomfortable truths that rocked the status quo. Those who benefited from the status quo sought a way to get rid of this trouble maker. The last trip to Jerusalem would be the time.

Jesus and his followers also had a habit of hanging around with people everyone else ignored. Tax collectors (who were particularly hated because they extorted money from people), prostitutes, various other “sinners,” lepers and more were his preferred company. It made the religious leaders look bad (an appropriate consequence).

Jesus healed on the Sabbath. He fed hungry people; he healed and set people free. For example, the woman with the issue of blood for twelve years touched the hem of Jesus garment and was healed. Her healing was a lot more than not bleeding anymore. In the ancient culture, women were ritually unclean when they were menstruating and were isolated from their community. By healing her, Jesus restored her to community. The same with healing the lepers; their disease required they be isolated from their community. By their healing they were restored to their place in their community and society.

Jesus was no friend of the status quo. Our times are not so different from his times. And our silence is the equivalent of assent to the loudest voices. The “he gets us” campaign is code language for a lot of hatred, bigotry and double standards. Our silence in the face of it means we agree.

I would love to see the loudest voice about family values be the one that says love makes a family and acceptance is how we live in the world. I want to hear the loudest voice of faith say that hatred is not a family value. I want the voice of Christianity to say that the moral issues of our time are adequate housing and healthcare, reproductive choice, elimination of poverty, global climate change and the unequal distribution of resources. I want the Christian voice to proclaim loudly that Black Lives Matter and work to dismantle racism and the system that promulgates it. I want the voice of faith to proclaim that the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer is evil.

If we want to say we “get” Jesus, then we must see him as he was in his time and act that same way in our time.    

The “Jesus Gets Us” campaign is one of those things that walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and looks like a duck, but is really a porcupine. The hundred million dollar campaign made a huge splash at the Super Bowl with ads that cost twenty million dollars. Similar ads have appeared on other sports broadcasts and even during the Grammy Awards. On the surface, it looks sort of okay, but scratch a little deeper and there are some issues.

First, Jesus does not have a PR problem. The campaign presents a Jesus who is watered down and palatable to skeptics: Jesus washing people’s feet, Jesus hanging out with average folks, etc These ads take huge liberties with scripture in an effort to make Jesus look like an average Joe. Jesus, in truth, was a radical teacher who spoke of inclusion and love and justice. How this teacher who ushered in a new way of being in the world was co-opted into the central symbol of maintaining the social status quo is mind boggling. This watered-down Jesus does nothing for the gospel message.

The church, on the other hand, has a tremendous PR problem. Churches are closing and declining throughout the United States. More and more, church is seen as an anachronism. Think of the financial and sexual scandals, the tendency of churches to use most of their resources to power their organization and care for their building, the petty bickering and the ridiculous conflicts. People don’t have a problem with Jesus; they have a problem with his “followers.” I used to have a bumper sticker that read, “Jesus, protect me from your followers.”

The solution, however, is not a watered-down socially acceptable Jesus. There is a remedy for the church’s ills. It is called the Gospel. Jesus was likely to be found with those with whom no one else would bother: the socially unacceptable, the lepers and prostitutes. Jesus threw the money changers out of the temple, called the religious and political leaders of the Roman occupation “whited sepulchers.” He wasn’t crucified for bouncing children on his knee and blessing people at the bottom of the social heap. He was crucified for calling out the collusion and corruption of the religious and political leaders of his time. Trying to make Jesus into a politically nice guy is not a biblical view of what Jesus was all about.

And here’s where the total hypocrisy of this campaign enters the picture. Trying to make Jesus a-political is a joke when the sponsors of this campaign have a huge political agenda that is anti-women, anti-choice, anti-LGBTQI, anti-trans protection, anti-equality and anti-everything that speaks of radical love, inclusion and welcome. A main sponsor of the campaign is Hobby Lobby. This is the company that will not pay for birth control for its employees. Other donors have chosen to remain anonymous, but the agencies organizing and sponsoring the campaign have deep roots with right wing religious and political groups. At some point there is going to be a huge bait and switch. The underlying agenda of religious and political exclusion, hatred and bigotry will be exposed at some point.

The marketing group behind the campaign is Haven. Based in Grand Haven, Michigan, Haven’s president says his hope is that the campaign can bridge the gap people see between the story of Jesus and their perception and experience of his followers. They want to “rebrand” Jesus. Jesus doesn’t need rebranding, but the church surely does.   

As conservative, evangelical Christianity identifies more and more with nationalism, these ads that present a “nice” Jesus can’t be reconciled with the hateful and hurtful stances of churches that spew bigotry and exclusion.  Trying to co-opt the radically loving, totally inclusive, welcoming Jesus of the gospel into a nice guy who demands nothing is not a biblical Jesus. Trying to portray Jesus as a-political when the sponsors of this campaign have a very anti-gospel political agenda is nauseating.

Beware of “Jesus Gets Us.” It’s a pretty scary thing.

This campaign is gaining traction with people who are on the fence and wondering about Christianity. Exposing it for the duplicitous agenda it propounds is a task for all of us. Please share this blog and correct your friends when they talk about how wonderful “Jesus Gets Us” is.

On a whirlwind trip to Houston, Texas to offer expert witness testimony at a criminal trial, I had no choice but to wear my court clothes on the plane.  I was going directly to court from the airport.  Court clothes meant black suit and black clerical collar.  It is not my preferred outfit on or off a plane.   I dreaded the conversation it would occasion and did everything I could think of to send the message, “I do not want to have a conversation with you.” Open book, iPod, headphones, a simple smile of acknowledgement and minimal eye contact.  I do this on planes anyway. I am an introvert; I don’t fly to make friends.  It’s just harder to pull off when dressed like a cross between Darth Vader and Father Guido Sarducci. 

Sure enough, when the beverage cart came my seat mate saw his opening, “Are you like a priest or something?”  I guess the “or something” was the category.  I smiled politely and said that I was a minister.  “Really, why are you headed to Houston?” 

“Business,” I replied and started to put on my headphones, but I wasn’t quite quick enough. Sure enough he started to tell me all about himself. “Well, I am spiritual but not religious.”    

I don’t know what it is with people. When I meet a banker I feel no need to confess that I have never balanced my check book.  When I meet a plumber I am not overwhelmed with a desire to talk about my ability to sweat solder pipes.  But when someone learns I am a minister, it is true confessions.

Spiritual but not religious; it’s the not so new term for folks who haven’t given up on God but are more or less over organized religion.  Phyllis Tickle calls this growing group the de-churched: those who have burned out of church life for one reason or another.  She is quick to point out it includes some folks who still show up on Sunday morning but have one foot out the door. 

It’s an expression of the disconnect people feel with organized religion. 

On one end of the continuum it is a way to believe whatever you want; take a little from here a little from there, toss in some communing with nature and there you have it.   At the other end of the continuum it describes true seekers who find the church falling far short of the place where their hungers are fed. Most folks are somewhere in-between.

If people who don’t show up at church claim to be spiritual but not religious, it is often because to them the church is religious but not spiritual.    

Think about the wise people in your life–not the smart people, the wise people. Smart and wise are two very different things. Smart comes from learning and studying.  In the world of “religious but not spiritual” smart means knowing creeds and doctrines, citing bible verses and knowing six dollar theological words.  It has its place. 

But being wise is beyond what we know in our heads.  It is about what we know in our bones.  It is what happens when we join head, heart, spirit and body.  It is a maturity that joins faith, belief, experience and spirituality in ways that shape and feed each other.   It is part of what it means to die to self.  In contemporary parlance it means to get beyond the ego.

Richard Rohr notes that the ego is utterly inadequate to see what is real.  It is largely useless to talk about the very ground of your being. Getting beyond the ego means dying to the old viewing platform of the false self.

Faith and religious life are strongest when the whole person is valued as the arena for God’s transforming work. The sign that God is at work in our lives is a hunger that demands we grow and change because life as we are living it is no longer fulfilling.  If you want to hope for something, pray for something, hope for and pray for the hunger.  It is what sets it all in motion.

By always reaching toward an authentic faith we are led to humility and not hubris. Anything less and we have succumbed to being religious without being spiritual. 

Robert Fuller suggests that spirituality exists wherever we struggle with the issue of how our lives fit into the greater cosmic scheme of things. This is true even when our questions never give way to specific answers. We encounter spiritual issues every time we wonder where the universe comes from, why we are here, or what happens when we die. We also become spiritual when we become moved by values such as beauty, love, or creativity, justice, or shalom. These are all things that reveal a meaning or power beyond our visible world. An idea or practice is “spiritual” when it reveals our personal desire to establish a felt-relationship with the deepest meanings or powers governing life. 

It is a radical notion: to be spiritual and religious. 

When we embody the spiritual and religious we come to deep knowledge that what is truly radical is

• Wisdom that is constantly transforming the boxes into which we put God in so we can stay in control.
• Religion and spirituality feeding each other, changing each other and keeping the church and its practices relevant.
• Beyond our egos and self-styled identities that divide us from one another.
•  The church embodying an authentic spirituality where vital religious practice creates life changing community.

And that is the beginning of what it is all about.

The church is full of hypocrites

            This is true. And should you ever decide to go or return to church you will join their number. No one lives the faith perfectly. Even the most devout people of faith fail the faith. The church is a human institution and as such is subject to the frailties and foibles of the human condition. Frederick Buechner wrote, “We live the faith in search of the faith.”

Church is boring

            This is also true, sometimes. If you go to church and find it boring all the time, find another church. Some churches are so married to the past and the way it has always been done that they don’t deserve what you might bring to the community. Remember, though, that church is not there to entertain you. It is there to encourage your faith, provide fellowship and teach you about the faith. It isn’t always fun, nor is it supposed to be.

I don’t know what I believe

            Half the folks who people the pews aren’t sure what they believe either. You will be in good company. Church is a place where you can ask questions and grow. Again, if you are visiting a church or considering a church where your questions are not welcome, find another church. The seeds of an adult faith journey are often planted in the soil of doubt and question. Sometimes we have to figure out what we DON’T believe before we can figure out what we do believe. It’s okay to back into the faith. Beware of religious leaders and institutions that have simple answers to unanswerable questions.

I don’t know anything about the bible

            Half the people in church don’t know that much either. Most people end their religious training in high school. It isn’t until they are adults that they may begin asking questions and desire to learn more. Find a church where bible study is important. Beware of what you read online. Read books like Marcus Borg’s “Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time” and “Meeting God Again for the First Time.” Barbara Brown Taylor’s “An Altar in the World” is another excellent read.

The church is hateful and judgmental

            The “church” that has the loudest voice is often hateful and judgmental. Real churches are all about community, love, grace, justice and mercy. Don’t paint all churches with the same brush as the ones you hear about on TV. Beware of television religion and religion with a political agenda.  

I have a church– related trauma and get triggered by religious language

            More and more church leaders are coming to understand how people have been hurt by the church. Make an appointment to talk to the pastor. Trust your gut. If s/he doesn’t “get it” let that be your guide. Be mindful that if you have been wounded in community there is a part of you that will only be healed in community. That doesn’t necessarily mean a church, but we all need a group where we feel safe and welcomed. Beware of sharing too much too soon. It can become the “label” you will carry throughout your connection at the church. Guard your deepest self until you test the waters and make sure they are safe for you. Trust your gut.

My kids play sports on Sunday morning

            Many children do play sports on Sunday morning. Folks have tried (unsuccessfully) for years to change that. Experience tells me that people make time for what is important. If church is important in your life, you will find time for it. Sometimes we have to make choices.

I am mad at God because (fill in the blank)

            It’s okay to be mad at God. Sometimes being mad at God is the first step in an authentic adult faith journey. If you’re mad at God it means the relationship has some possibilities. If God didn’t matter, you wouldn’t spend the energy being angry.

I am interested in going to church but I’m not sure why

            Trust the little voice inside that is the beginning of your spiritual hunger. It’s not important to know why, it’s important to acknowledge the hunger is there. You can find your way one day at a time, trust your gut and find a place that is right for you. Remember, no one is an expert on your life. Beware of the religious leaders who “should” on you, telling you what you should do and how you should do it. A helpful pastor will assist you in finding your own way and support you as you do.

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I think one of the bravest things that people do is walk in the door of a church for the first time. Stepping into a setting where you may have bad memories, have learned lousy theology or any one of a thousand other reasons is a brave thing to do. If you are unsure (and you probably are), and don’t want people to accost you, show up late and leave early. It’s a great way to avoid talking to people until you are ready. Remember, if you get too triggered you can leave at any time.

Every faith journey begins with a question, a thought, a hunger. Those yearnings are trustable, and if you listen carefully to your deepest inner voice, you will find the place that’s right for you.