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Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Pastors

Thief in the Night

Here is a clip from the end of the movie, "A Thief in the Night." A movie about the end times that came out in the 70's. The movie scared me as a child and still sends chills up my spine when I watch it. I don't believe this kind of fear-based teaching is from the heart of God. (In other words, don't let your kids watch it.)

Eldership Meeting

What does your church's elder's meetings look like?

Where is the Love?

I enjoyed reading this article on Andrew Sullivan's blog. It is a writer responding to an article on gay marriage. Whether or not you agree with his conclusions, this conversation is one with having. I'm convinced that so much of my Christianity has been based in fear instead of love. But if we believe that scripture is inspired, if we believe that it is His Word or His words, then we have to strongly weigh this verse: "There is no fear in love" (1 John 4:18). Can we hold to our belief system outside of fear? Can we related to those outside our belief system without resorting to fear? Where is the love?

Christian Fear Or Christian Love?
A reader writes [in response to a previous article]:

You write:

"Civil marriage for all; religious marriage for all who want to supplement it with God's grace. Why is that so hard for some people of faith to grasp? Why are their marriages defined not by the virtues they sustain but the people they exclude?"

(Emphasis mine.) Because -- as you well know -- their faiths themselves are defined by the people they exclude: the unbelievers, the unsaved (or let's be blunt: the "damned"), the always-demonized Other: without that division, that exclusion, their entire theology, indeed their entire worldview, collapses: a theology of inclusion is anathema to them, just as a politics, a sociology or even a science of inclusion (evolution) is anathema.

And why? Because despite their fine words, and their closely-guarded self-images, the actual and real ruling principle of their lives and their theology is fear, not love.

Everything flows from that original orientation, that original choice (because it is, finally, a choice). For them, to be inclusive is to expose themselves to what they fear; and what they fear most is summarized in their mythology of hell and eternal damnation: an eternal torture of body, mind, soul and spirit administered by an angry, vengeful, psychopathic god. It is all pure projection.

And irony of ironies, it is precisely the opposite of the message the Christian Savior tried to bring: that salvation is found only through love, through inclusion, through openness of mind and heart and spirit, through, ultimately, trust -- that this world, with all its difficulties and pain and imperfections, built through evolution, and including endless Others, is as it should be, as it was intended to be.

But that leap, from fear to trust, from fear to love, from fear to inclusion, is not an easy one, either for the individual or for a society. No evolutionary leap ever is -- and that is precisely what the leap from fear to love is: an evolutionary leap; evolution in action, evolution at the cognitive, emotional and spiritual levels. It's not easy, and it's not fast: we've been working on this for 2000 years -- and longer. Evolution takes its own time, but since this is the evolution of consciousness itself, we do have something to say about it: it's something we can consciously promote, and consciously accelerate -- and it's something we need to accelerate, and complete: the problems we face in this world, social, political and environmental, will not be solved by a people animated by fear.

We need to make the leap. Which is why gay marriage is important, beyond its importance to the individuals involved: the inclusion of the gay community -- the full inclusion -- within the human family is a necessary catalyst to this leap, just as the full inclusion of, for instance, the African-American and female communities have been necessary: A house divided against itself cannot stand; neither can it leap. This is where America can, and should, lead by example.

There is a radio program I heard yesterday that illustrates this leap from a fear-based to a love-based theology in the most personal terms, while reflecting the social and religious difficulties involved: the story of Reverend Carlton Pearson, "a renowned evangelical pastor in Tulsa, Oklahoma, who cast aside the idea of Hell, and with it everything he'd worked for over his entire life… Carlton Pearson's church, Higher Dimensions, was once one of the biggest in the city, drawing crowds of 5,000 people every Sunday. But several years ago, scandal engulfed the reverend. He didn't have an affair. He didn't embezzle lots of money. His sin was something that to a lot of people is far worse: He stopped believing in Hell... "

And he started believing in inclusion.

This program is nearly an hour long, but worth it (Chicago Public Radio's "This American Life" does a fantastic job). Listen especially to that part of the story, towards the end, when Reverend Pearson, cast out as a heretic by the fundamentalist evangelical community and shunned by all his old friends and colleagues, is invited to a gay church in San Francisco: what happens there moves him to tears as he tells it, and it is moving; it is what real Christianity ought to be.

Original article found here.

Does Abortion Cause Depression?

I am very opposed to abortion. It takes the life of an innocent child. It is horrific, and is hardly the perfect answer to an unwanted pregnancy.

That being said, I often find myself at odds with the methods of those who oppose abortion. They tend to battle the issue from only a few viewpoints- moral and religious grounds, which often alienates themselves from others who don’t hold the same views. There are other aspects of the abortion issue to consider: medical, psychological, social, cultural, economical, legal, etc. Sometimes the pro-life crowd will address these other issues but only through their theological lenses. If they don’t like what they hear, they try to explain it away, burry their head in the ground, or yell louder about their morally superior stand. Instead of finding areas of common ground the pro-lifers escalate the division and move in the opposite direction. (I’m sure more could be said about what the pro-choice crowd could do to move towards agreement, but since I haven’t lived in that camp, my observations are from the tent I’ve frequented.)

There are two values that I wish took precedence in this cause- one for our hearts and one for our heads. The first is value is love. It’s my belief we will never change the nation by fighting to change the rules. When we end up seeing this issue as a battle we literally start warring against others. Aren’t they also the flesh and blood that we say we want to protect? No, the answer is love: loving the unborn babies, the mommies with unwanted pregnancies, the papas that impregnated them, even the people who have taken such a strong stand for choice. Our hearts must lead with Love.

(I do find it ironic that the way we want to solve this issue of sin is by control. Our creation story is about a God that chooses not to control but gives the people he loves freedom. He did this even when He knew it could, even would, be abused. But He still didn’t control, He gave us choice. Why? Love! After we made wrong decisions we tried to solve it by living under the law. But that system didn’t work. God knew it wouldn’t. He intended for the law to show us we couldn’t obtain righteousness by trying to live right or by controlling others decisions. We weren’t created that way. Then through Christ he provided us freedom again, and He did it through Love. And even now relationship with God still comes down to choice, not control. Do we dare think we’ve figured out a better way?)

The value that I wish was more prevalent in our heads, regarding abortion, is truth. But it seems to me that the pro-life crowd cares more about their opinions being right than honestly engaging the questions. They want to, need to be right and often come across as ignorant and unaware.

A good example is the link that pro-lifers have made between abortion and breast cancer. Many studies have been done to show that this link is not valid, but much of the pro-life crowd will not accept the findings. Although there is still debate on the issue the American Cancer Society's current stand is that there is no link between the two. Why has this continued to be a fighting point for the pro-lifers? Maybe they think if there is a chink in one area of their debate armor then they are exposed and could lose the battle. From my perspective they have a whole lot more to lose by acting ignorant. They will lose their place at the discussion table if they aren’t willing to engage truth. Truth isn’t something that we need to fear.

Why do I bring this up today? Because another argument from the pro-life crowd has been called into question. One of the long-standing arguments against abortion has been that abortion causes psychological distress, or a "post-abortion syndrome.” A study came out today that says that is not the case (it also addresses similar studies done with political motivation). What will the pro-life crowd do with this study?

I certainly know that there are women who are plagued with guilt over having an abortion. I’ve talked and ministered to several. I believe there is forgiveness for their decisions and healing for their hearts.

I also have talked with women who had guilt ladled over them by those who assume it should be there. If there wasn’t a healthy display of post-abortion syndrome the actions of well-meaning counselors helped bring it on, and in doing so caused these women much more pain.

It’s my opinion that the job of conviction is that of the Holy Spirit’s, and not ours. He doesn't need our help, and we aren't qualified to play His role. And seeing that He doesn't motivate us by fear, so maybe we should stop doing it to each other.

The part that He has asked us to do is simply this: Love.

Abortion not seen linked with depression
Thu Dec 4, 12:08 am ET

WASHINGTON (Reuters) – No high-quality study done to date can document that having an abortion causes psychological distress, or a "post-abortion syndrome," and efforts to show it does occur appear to be politically motivated, U.S. researchers said on Thursday.

A team at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore reviewed 21 studies involving more than 150,000 women and found the high-quality studies showed no significant differences in long-term mental health between women who choose to abort a pregnancy and others.

"The best research does not support the existence of a 'post-abortion syndrome' similar to post-traumatic stress disorder," Dr. Robert Blum, who led the study published in the journal Contraception, said in a statement.

"Based on the best available evidence, emotional harm should not be a factor in abortion policy. If the goal is to help women, program and policy decisions should not distort science to advance political agendas," added Vignetta Charles, a researcher and doctoral student at Johns Hopkins who worked on the study.

An estimated 1.29 million American women get elective abortions each year, according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. An estimated 25 million women globally have legal abortions every year.

Abortion is a hot-button political issue, with many voters and members of the U.S. Congress as well as state lawmakers seeking to ban it.

"The U.S. Supreme Court, while noting that 'we find no reliable data to measure the phenomenon,' cited adverse mental health outcomes for women as part of the rationale for limiting late term abortions," Blum's team wrote.

The researchers reviewed all English-language, peer-reviewed publications between 1989 and 2008 that studied relationships between abortion and long-term mental health.

They analyzed those that included valid mental health measures and factored in pre-existing mental health status and potentially confusing factors.

"The best quality studies indicate no significant differences in long-term mental health between women in the United States who choose to terminate a pregnancy and those who do not," they wrote.

"...studies with the most flawed methodology consistently found negative mental health consequences of abortion," they added. "Scientists are still conducting research to answer politically motivated questions."

(Reporting by Maggie Fox, editing by Vicki Allen)

Does this make abortion acceptable? Not for me. But it has given me pause to be more careful of my assumptions of the affects of an abortion. Using the fear of psychological distress in debating the issue may not only be unkind (as is all fear-based argumentation) it may also be wrong.

Found this post on Revolution in Jesusland

For several years, James Dobson’s anger-driven on-air politics has been driving away the mainstream love-focused Focus on the Family audience. Apparently it’s starting to show on their bottom line. This article doesn’t say anything about donations from members falling, but I’m guessing they’ve got to be going down.

Focus on the Family announced this afternoon that 202 jobs will be cut companywide — an estimated 20 percent of its workforce. Initial reports bring the total number of remaining employees to around 950.

Focus on the Family is poised to announce major layoffs to its Colorado Springs-based ministry and media empire today. The cutbacks come just weeks after the group pumped more than half a million dollars into the successful effort to pass a gay-marriage ban in California.

Critics are holding up the layoffs, which come just two months after the organization’s last round of dismissals, as a sad commentary on the true priorities of the ministry.

I’ve met a lot of people who have relied on Focus on the Family’s parenting and marriage shows and materials who have become increasingly alienated by FOTF’s angry political agenda. Most non-religious liberals would be very surprised by some of the mainstay content the group provides. The parenting materials, for example, focus on the importance of showing children “unconditional love” and teach parents not to punish children for childish mistakes. Much of the marriage advice given to husbands—often by women—sounds downright feminist, believe it or not, for example reminding men that the Bible also teaches husbands to submit to their wives.

For years, FOTF was one long, continuous, cheery stream of socially conservative but therapeutically liberal self-help and affirmation. And then suddenly James Dobson started frothing at the mouth. More and more, he crowded out feel-good programs with hysterical anger about things like “the Homosexual Agenda!” I’m guessing a big chunk of the grassroots funding base is walking away.

Fat Preacher finds new Fisher Price Fear

A couple of questions for you:
Do we really think Jesus is afraid of the this doll?
Are our children so stupid to be led astray this way?
Is this really the best content for our Sunday morning services?

I wasn't surprised to find blame for this doll land at the feet of the president elect. I found this quote on one blog:

I didn't connect it to Obama until after reading these posts, but now it makes sense. I knew that I didn't trust him and this is just another thing to add to the list of why.

Another reader reminded us that we've seen this sort of thing before:

Remember in 1998 when parents all across the United States had hissy-fits because they really, truly believed their children's Teletubby dolls were saying "Faggot, faggot, bite my butt"?

And how about the California woman who threatened a lawsuit in 2000 after convincing herself that a Teletubby doll was telling her child "I got a gun, I got a gun, run away, run away!"

Or the woman who complained in 2006 that a Little Mermaid doll called her daughter "a slut."

Or the parent who claimed earlier this year that a Tickle Me Elmo doll made death threats against her son.

But maybe the scariest reality in this scenario are the filters in our heads not only suggesting the speech of the doll but the maniacal motivation of the Muslims.

Even if there is a way to swap out the voice chip in these Fisher Price Dolls, what can we do about the hate chip that appears to be lodged in our brains?

Is your church like Starbucks?

Environmental Oops

52% Evangelicals who in 2004 agreed that "strict rules to protect the environment are necessary even if they cost jobs or result in higher prices."

43% Evangelicals who agree in 2008.

(Source: Henry Institute at Calvin College)

The Widow's Tithe

17.6% Widows and widowers in the U.S. who say they give 10 percent or more of their income to the church.

8.6% Non-widowed Americans who say they give 10 percent or more.

(Source: Baylor Religion Survey)

James 3: A Story

Churches Compete for the Obamas

According the Washington Post, local D.C. churches have got in the spirit of lobbying, going after the membership of Washington's newest Christian family. They have their own sales pitches, campaigns, and stategies. It is a prestigious thing to land a power player in a pew.

It makes me think, who would Jesus lobby?

How did the Sexperiment work?

Article from the NY Times

Pastor’s Advice for Better Marriage: More Sex
By GRETEL C. KOVACH

GRAPEVINE, Tex. — And on the seventh day, there was no rest for married couples. A week after the Rev. Ed Young challenged husbands and wives among his flock of 20,000 to strengthen their unions through Seven Days of Sex, his advice was — keep it going.

Mr. Young, an author, a television host and the pastor of the evangelical Fellowship Church, issued his call for a week of “congregational copulation” among married couples on Nov. 16, while pacing in front of a large bed. Sometimes he reclined on the paisley coverlet while flipping through a Bible, emphasizing his point that it is time for the church to put God back in the bed.

“Today we’re beginning this sexperiment, seven days of sex,” he said, with his characteristic mix of humor, showmanship and Scripture. “How to move from whining about the economy to whoopee!”

On Sunday parishioners at the Grapevine branch watched a prerecorded sermon from Mr. Young and his wife, Lisa, on jumbo screens over a candlelit stage. “I know there’s been a lot of love going around this week, among the married couples,” one of the church musicians said, strumming on a guitar before a crowd of about 3,000.

Mrs. Young, dressed in knee-high black boots and jeans, said that after a week of having sex every day, or close to it, “some of us are smiling.” For others grappling with infidelities, addictions to pornography or other bitter hurts, “there’s been some pain; hopefully there’s been some forgiveness, too.”

Mr. Young advised the couples to “keep on doing what you’ve been doing this week. We should try to double up the amount of intimacy we have in marriage. And when I say intimacy, I don’t mean holding hands in the park or a back rub.”

Mr. Young, known simply as Ed to his parishioners, and his wife, both 47, have been married for 26 years and have four children, including twins. They have firsthand experience with some of the barriers to an intimate sex life in marriage, including careers, exhaustion, outside commitments, and “kids,” a word that Mr. Young told church members stands for “keeping intimacy at a distance successfully.”

But if you make the time to have sex, it will bring you closer to your spouse and to God, he has said. You will perform better at work, leave a loving legacy for your children to follow and may even prevent an extramarital affair.

“If you’ve said, ‘I do,’ do it,” he said. As for single people, “I don’t know, try eating chocolate cake,” he said.

The sex-starved marriage has been the topic of at least two recent books, “365 Nights” and “Just Do It.” But Mr. Young’s call from the pulpit gave the discussion an added charge.

It should not, in his view. This is not a gimmick or a publicity stunt, Mr. Young says. Just look at the sensuousness of the Song of Solomon, or Genesis: “two shall become one flesh,” or Corinthians: “do not deprive each other of sexual relations.”

“For some reason the church has not talked about it, but we need to,” he said, speaking by telephone Friday night on his way to South Africa for a mission trip. There is no shame in marital sex, he added, “God thought it up, it was his idea.”

Those who attend Fellowship’s location here or one of several satellite churches in the Dallas area and one in Miami are used to Mr. Young’s provocative style. (The real “f word” in the marital boudoir, he says, is “forgiveness.”) But the sex challenge was a bit much for some of his church members, who sat with arms crossed in uncomfortable silence, he recalls, while many in the audience gave him an enthusiastic applause.

One parishioner, Rob Hulsey, 25, said his Baptist relatives raised their eyebrows about it, but he summed up the reaction of many husbands at Fellowship Church when he first heard about the sex challenge — “Yay!”

A week later, he and his wife, who are expecting a baby and have two older children, could not stop holding hands during the sermon. His wife, Madeline Hulsey, 32, said she was just as thrilled to spend a week focusing on her husband. Usually, “we start to kiss, and it’s knock knock knock, Mom!” she said.

Others found that, like smiling when you are not particularly happy, having sex when they did not feel like it improved their mood. Just eight months into their marriage, Amy and Cody Waddell had not been very amorous since Cody admitted he had had an affair.

“Intimacy has been a struggle for us, working through all that,” Ms. Waddell said. “This week really brought us back together, physically and emotionally.”

It is not always easy to devote time for your spouse, Pastor Young admitted. Just three days into the sex challenge he said he was so tired after getting up before dawn to talk about the importance of having more sex in marriage that he crashed on the bed around 8 p.m. on Tuesday night.

Mrs. Young tried to shake him awake, telling her husband, “Come on, it’s the sex challenge.” But Mr. Young murmured, “Let’s just double up tomorrow,” and went back to sleep.

Failed Faith

The only faith
that I have lost
is failed faith
for a lost few.

- Mumbling Truth

7 Days of Sex - He Said/She Said

Pastor Ed Young and his wife Lisa each share about the challenge they made to their church.

He (Ed) said:
The amount of press this challenge has gotten over the last several days has been a little surprising. I can't say I'm shocked, though. Our culture is so used to toilet water that it's refreshing when we get a taste of God's pure desire for sex in marriage. So no, I'm not shocked. I'm excited. But the most exciting aspect of this isn't the press. It's not the news coverage or the interviews.

The most exciting part of this right now is the potential that this challenge has to help heal and strengthen so many marriages and families. I pray over the next week that communication lines are opened, intimacy is restored and marriages are strengthened as they "do it" God's way. Please join me in this prayer.

She (Lisa) said:
I mentioned this at Flavour, but let me say it here. I'm so excited about this challenge! (And yes, ladies, I'm the one who brought the idea to Ed through a magazine article I'd found.) Why am I so excited? That's simple. Because God has revolutionized my view of sex and removed a lot of preconceived notions I had. And I can truly value intimacy done God's way.

This challenge is about so much more than the act of sex. This is an opportunity for marriages to get back to what God designed them to be. It's a chance for all of us to reinforce our love for our spouses.

So here's my prayer for this next week. First, to the ladies. I 'm praying that God expands your view of the importance of sex in marriage and that He gives you the diligence in prioritizing this aspect of your marriage. And for the men, my prayer is that you will lead out spiritually for your wife so that the oneness God has in mind will supernaturally flow through every aspect of your marriage. (And yes, that includes sex.)

You can follow their journey on their church blog.

Pastor Preaches Procreation

From The BlackChristianNews.com

Pastor Ed Young Wants Married Couples to have Sex Every Day for a Week

God may have rested on the seventh day, but the Rev. Ed Young wants married couples to have sex all week long. Once a day. Beginning this Sunday.

The call to action will headline his sermon that day at Grapevine-based Fellowship Church. He plans to deliver his challenge while sitting on a bed.

"I won't be dressed in pajamas," the pastor says.

In these days of financial crisis, rampant divorce and debates over same-sex marriage, it's time, he says, to turn the "whining" into "whoopee."

More fundamentally, he adds, the embracing of sex is about nurturing and strengthening marriages.

"Sex is like Super Glue. It's a spiritual thing, an emotional thing," he says.

And the marriage thing, he believes, should only involve a man and woman. God's way, he says.

Jim Dale of Coppell said he figures the pastor is trying to create more buzz for his five-church mega-ministry.

"Draw 'em in, no matter what or how," wrote the Coppell resident in a posting on dallasnews.com. "Sex? You betcha. That'll pack the pews (or theater seats)."

Mr. Dale, author of a book about individual relationships with God, said he has attended Fellowship Church a few times. And he offered some praise: "I've got to hand it to them, they are brilliant marketers."

Mr. Young says his challenge -- following a seminar called "Leaving Lust Vegas" -- isn't about filling seats. "We've got more people than we can say grace over," he says of his 20,000-worshipper Baptist ministry that video streams services from Grapevine to churches in downtown Dallas, Plano, Fort Worth and Miami.

Marketing is indeed at play, the pastor says. "It gets people thinking on a deeper level about sex. I want people talking about it," he says.

But doing it?

"God says sex should be between a married man and a woman. And do it," he says.

Whatever the motivation, the pastor's rousing words aren't unprecedented. A Florida church earlier this year issued a 30-day sex challenge.

Mr. Young said his words may well resonate more with the young and healthy. And at 47, he plans to practice what he's preaching.

"We're going to give it a try," he says, speaking for Lisa, his wife of 26 years and mother of their four children.

As for others, "I can't make them do it," the pastor says.

But he's hopeful. "I think people are going to have a Happy Thanksgiving."

You can watch his sermon here: Leaving Lust Vegas.

Recovering Passion

My Friend Aida has a blog called Forgetting the Former Things. She recently wrote a great article on recovering passion. It stirred things in me. I know that in the attempts to nurture my own vision that I've stiffled others. During my time in the organized church I had a hard time fitting my vision underneath other's vision. At the same time I kept other people out of my sand box too.

Now I am on a journey of rediscovering that passion. It seems scary. Right now it is enough just for me to come to terms with what went wrong.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on Aida's entry.

A number of years ago, I became interested in the subject of leadership. I bought every book I could find that taught how to develop leadership skills and I went to several leadership conferences. Also, I spoke with everyone I could find who was interested in leadership principles.

Although there’s much that I could say about the institutional church’s concept of leadership, I really want to focus on only one aspect – passion.

One of the characteristics of a good leader as taught by the institution is passion. A good leader needs to be passionate about the particular cause he is promoting. Also, it’s his responsibility to meet regularly with his team in order to stir up their passion for the cause and to re-kindle it when it starts to die down.

As the leader, he is also responsible for imparting the vision to his team. He receives the vision and passes it on to the others. Therefore, it’s important that he describes it clearly so that the team will know and understand the direction in which they are to move. Everyone is expected to move together in order to fulfill the leader’s vision. In these conferences, there was much talk about running with the vision because it’s important that the leader’s vision be fulfilled. As a result, many workers are needed to serve the vision.

After growing in grace, I’ve come to believe that leadership as taught in the institutional church is not effective and has actually hurt the church.

In the institutional church, the only vision that matters is the pastor’s. Church members are expected to work to fulfill their pastor’s vision even if it means allowing theirs to die. As a result, we have thousands of believers sitting in pews who have no passion because their vision has died.

The early church as described in the book of Acts was a passionate church. The Leader was the Holy Spirit and it was he who instilled vision in the people and filled them with passion. As a result, their passion didn’t die so they didn’t need another person to constantly stir them up.

In the institutional system, intercession is strongly promoted so, for most of my life as a believer, I tried to make myself into an intercessor. I went to intercessory prayer meetings and I studied the lives and prayer techniques of well known intercessors. Although I talked about the importance of prayer and even taught it, there was never a burning passion in my heart for prayer. Basically, I was trying to function out of someone else’s passion and, since their passion never became mine, it wasn’t enough to carry me through to the end.

I believe that the religious system destroys passion. As I look at today’s church, I see a church that for the most part lacks passion. Its members depend on weekly sermons to pump them up because they don’t really care about what’s going on.

Darin Hufford in his audio series on prayer states that we depend on prayer lists and prayer chains to tell us what to pray for because we couldn’t care less about we’re praying for. As Darin puts it, “We’re just flapping our gums.” Instead, he says that we should pray for what we care about.

Wow!! How profound and yet so simple!! If you care, pray.

I believe Darin’s advice is the key to passion. As a free believer, I’m learning that I do care about issues and I don’t need weekly meetings to stir up my passion because the Holy Spirit is in me and he constantly fills me with his passion.

As I’ve re-connected with my heart, I’m discovering passions which are now coming alive after years of dormancy. I’ve found that the Holy Spirit is constantly stirring up those passions and directing my steps towards their fulfillment. The church that Jesus is building is a passionate church and he means for our lives to be filled with adventure as we follow the passions of our hearts.

Rub Another Back, Rub a Back Next To Ya

Found this article today in a blog response. I'd send you straight to her blog but it doesn't exist anymore. It made me laugh and I hope you get a kick out of it too. Thanks for sharing it Steph.

First: WHY do people massage in church?

A. They are nervous and feel like "massaging" their spouse will ease their own pain and somehow make them feel less "sinful"

B. They want to be sure that EVERYONE knows they are a couple.

C. They want to be sure that everyone knows they are a HAPPY couple.

D. They want to make sure everyone knows that they are a happy couple and that they are regularly having SEX.

E. They want their spouse to feel comforted in church since they are there-today-for-the-Easter service-which-is-the-only-time-the-hubby-shows-up-and-the-wife-thinks-that- if -she-massages-him-he-won't-bolt-for-the-door-in-the-middle-of-"Watch the Lamb" by Ray Boltz.

Second: If you are a member of "Pamic" (people against massaging in church) here are some ways to get people from stopping the massage disruption.

A. Lean forward (especially if you are a man) and ask: "Do you mind if I trade places with your husband?"

B. Make vomiting sounds that sound like "URGHstopthemassageURGH"

C. Start massaging the person being massaged along with the person massaging.

D. If you are in a *Calvary Chapel Church*, loudly ask " I think this guy is hurt, help!"

I submit, these are the reasons people massage each other in church and ways you can stop them. What do you think?

Holding My Breath

I often don't know what my expectations are until they lay unfulfilled in front of me. I am surprised by their sudden appearance and nearly trip over them when I try to move forward. But when I take the time to closely look at them I realize how familiar they are. I molded them out of dreams, desires and destiny. But without the power to give them life they only bring me pleasure when I take the time to play make-believe with them and pretend they are something more than they are.

Some of these man-made dolls are small, but some of them are as big as the giant Oscar statues out in front of Hollywood's Kodak Theatre. I wonder how these expectations got so ginormous until one of them whispers to me, "You crafted us this way." These big ones can block the view of any forward movement and they can be hard to maneuver around. Somebody's imagination gave my Oscar statues some G.I. Joe Kung Fu moves and they have beaten me black and blue

I had an expectation, a big one, that during the first two months of the summer I would gain clarity, amass understanding, see the big picture and have several "ah-ha" moments about my forced (and undesired) sabbatical from organized ministry. It didn't come. At all. Not an ounce of purpose for my ponderings.

I got angry with God and had some Job moments with him about my job. And though He has been extremely patient and loving to me He wasn't manipulated by my tantrums.

He drew me back to a word-picture, given by one of those prophetic types at a holiday dinner (it hardly was the kind of Christmas cheer I expected). I was told I was like a boulder in a stream awash with the spring melt. The rock that normally stood safely above the surface was now finding itself pummeled with a rushing river. And everything that had attached itself to the rock was being stripped off as the water rushed by.

So I hoped, expected really, that this was just a spring cleaning of the clingings, and once they were pressure washed downstream the water would subside and I could go back to being everyone's steady rock.

But the water has gotten higher as the rain has continued to fall. And at the end of my summer months I realized I had been waiting too long to exhale. I thought I could hold my breath long enough for the storm to pass. But one can only hold their breath so long and then... so long.

And though the outcome is no longer in doubt I've thrashed about anyway, tying to keep my head above the water line. But I can not, as hard as I try, stay alive in this flood.

It is inevitable at this point. I am drowning. Or at least the person I thought I was is very nearly dead.

It is scary as hell. I tell God that this wasn't such a good plan. And I can see by the look in His face He doesn't like it much either. And that brings me some comfort- "the naked realization of love hanging over the abyss of death."

And I will let this false self die. Only God knows what will happen next.

One last thought. Sometimes, when I look in your eyes, dear reader, I see my pain mirrored there mixed with your own strong emotions. And though I'd love you to hold me through this cold, wet death, this is not a request for your attempts at my salvation or for your pity.

If you really want to be helpful, maybe you'd consider tossing in your expectations of me in this rushing river too. That could be very freeing, for both of us.

Wind-blown Lyrics

I ran again today. I've been running a lot. Since the tears seem stuck I've been sweating them out of my body daily on an elliptical machine at the local gym. Pools of them.

And today I closed my dry eyes as I grasped the heart monitors praying it would detect more than just a cardio rhythm. And I heard these lyrics through my ipod buds and something about them had a essence of life that was surprisingly more moving than the music that carried them.

I want to see miracles, see the world change
Wrestled the angel, for more than a name
For more than a feeling
For more than a cause
I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
And You're raising the dead in me

I had to fight my hands from flying high, not so much for looking the part of a fool, but afraid that they would find nothing to grasp.

But tonight in the quiet stillness my resistance is gone and I'm shaking and sobbing with abandon.

And I'm not who I thought I was twenty four hours ago.
And He's raising the dead in me.

I don't want to say this too loud, as I don't want to create any false expectations for myself or others. I may deny it tomorrow, refuse to discuss it with you, and not even post your comments about it on this blog... yet I want to whisper it now while I still have the faith:

"i have hope."

I want to be one today
Centered and true
I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
You're raising the dead in me...

Something Heavinly

A kind friend just sent me this song by Sanctus Real. I'm thankful she did.

Whatever You're Doing

It's time for healing time to move on
It's time to fix what's been broken too long
Time to make right what has been wrong
It's time to find my way to where I belong
There's a wave that's crashing over me
And all I can do is surrender

Whatever You're doing inside of me
It feels like chaos but somehow there's peace
It's hard to surrender to what I can't see
but I'm giving in to something Heavenly

Time for a milestone
Time to begin again
Reevaluate who I really am
Am I doing everything to follow Your will
Or just climbing aimlessly over these hills
So show me what it is You want from me
I give everything I surrender...
To...

Whatever You're doing inside of me
It feels like chaos but somehow there's peace
It's hard to surrender to what I can't see
but I'm giving in to something Heavenly

Time to face up
Clean this old house
Time to breathe in and let everything out
That I've wanted to say for so many years
Time to release all my held back tears

Whatever You're doing inside of me
It feels like chaos but I believe
You're up to something bigger than me
Larger than life something Heavenly

Whatever You're doing inside of me
It feels like chaos but now I can see
This is something bigger than me
Larger than life something Heavenly
Something Heavenly

It's time to face up
Clean this old house
Time to breathe in and let everything out

For a Moment I was Home

So the fat lady has sung, the curtain has closed and the theatre has gone dark. I sit on the stage looking into the empty seats realizing I expected a different send off on this my last performance.

This night had gone especially well. The crowd was engaged and excited. They rejoiced in the stories that were shared and embraced the actors with a standing ovation. I was congratulated over and over, slapped on the back and pulled into many an awkward hug. I secretly hoped that the producers were watching, that they would realize that they were making a huge mistake by letting me go. But they didn’t. In fact, they didn’t even acknowledge that it was my last night directing the show. Instead of being handed roses, I was handed a broom and asked to make sure the auditorium was clean for whatever drama was scheduled for the following day.

I have had a hard time understanding this slight. Even if moving forward together was not on their agenda some acknowledgement for what we had accomplished seemed appropriate. It never came.

For me life has come to a grinding halt, the brakes sending up sparks and shrieking like a train in agony. But the locomotive didn’t stop, it just slowed down enough to unhook me from the rest of the cars and push me to the side.

Yesterday a friend saw me sitting next to the tracks, still waiting for the train to backup to at least acknowledge the years of faithful service that I had made. He told me my waiting was in vain. The train had freed itself from our wreck and had moved down the line. They were driven by destination, fueled by vision, and racing toward the future.

Godspeed to them.

As for me, I’m done sitting next to the tracks wondering, “what if…” and waiting for others to acknowledge my contributions. I’m done looking up the tracks to where the train just disappeared around the bend. I’m not heading that direction anymore. I’m done looking behind, trying to figure out what jostled this journey in the first place.

I’m just looking for a few faithful friends who can do a bit of iron work and help take this twisted metal and form it into something beautiful again.

Reepicheep’s Tail

On Sunday I went back to the church where I recently was removed from staff. The absence of public discussion with the congregation about this change has resulted in fertile soil for speculation. I was met by a myriad of responses.

One friend told me he was angry with me. My removal has upset his applecart and left him and his family with bruises. He wants some answers, some explanations, so I’ll soon be taking him to lunch and pacify his emotions. At least it will make him feel better.

Another friend recently returned to my town from a trip to her childhood home. When I asked her about her travels she said she was grilled upon arrival, not about her life, but about mine. Even though I don’t personally know anyone in her church, apparently the vines of this religious branch reach far. They wanted to know what I had done or how I had failed. They figured she was a good source for whatever sorted details existed.

In fact, some of my friends have told me that they wished I had been caught in sin. They explained to me that it would be easier for them to accept my positional change if there was a line in the sand that I had crossed.

I’ve wanted to be bitter about the selfishness of the friends who have expressed their pain without really considering mine. What would make them so dependant upon me being in a shepherd’s role that they feared being scattered if I was gone?

And the answer is harder still. Me.

I’ve strategically positioned myself as someone important in their lives. I’ve done it to feel better about me, and they’ve willingly embraced it to feel better about themselves. We built a somewhat superficial, co-dependent relationship that was severely limited in its benefits.

And the surgery to cut out this dependence in my heart feels like it is killing me. Part of me may not survive. My dignity has been severed.

Reepicheep became aware of his loss [his tail, from a battle wound] as he made his bow [to Aslan]; perhaps it altered something in his balance. He looked over his right shoulder. Failing to see his tail, he strained his neck further till he had to turn his shoulders and his whole body followed. But by that time his hind-quarters had turned too and were out of sight. Then he strained his neck looking over his shoulder again, with the same result. Only after he had tuned completely round three times did he realize the dreadful truth.

“I am confounded,” said Reepicheep to Aslan. “ I am completely out of countenance. I must crave your indulgence for appearing in this unseemly fashion.”

“It becomes you very well, Small One,” said Aslan.

“All the same,” replied Reepicheep, “if anything could be done…

“But what do you want with a tail?” asked Aslan.

“Sir,” said the Mouse, “I can eat and sleep and die for my King without one. But a tail is the honor and glory of a Mouse.”

I have sometimes wondered, friend,” said Aslan, “whether you do not think too much about your honor.”

- Prince Caspian, C.S. Lewis

And then there are the others; those that have been discretely rejoicing at my firing, not in meanness but in honesty.

“Cool. Now we’ll have more time to hang together.”

“I don’t get it, but I’m so glad to see you are writing again.”

“About time. Your creativity tanked awhile ago. This is good!”

And there have been invitations- none to speak, teach, or perform my normal song and dance, but to hike in the mountains, bike along the river, camp on their ranch land, read and tell rich stories, make music, encourage one another with life-giving words, eat rich meals and sip hot cups of coffee, but most importantly to live life together and just simply be.

And it is in the comfort of these friends that I will heal.

“Ah!” roared Aslan [to the loyalty of Reepicheep’s friends]. “You have conquered me. You have great hearts. Not for the sake of your dignity, Reepicheep, but for the love that is between you and your people… you shall have your tail again.”

Give Peace a Chance

I've recently been listening to a series of podcasts called, The End of Religion, hosted by Bob and Doug McKenzie from the Great White North. Actually, their names are Bruxy Cavey and Tim Day, but they are from Canada and say "eh" at the end of their sentences.

They are both pastors at "The Meeting House", which is a "church for people who aren't into church".

I've watched a couple of video podcasts of Bruxy preaching. Me likey. So, I subscribed to the "End of Religion" messages to have something to listen to as I was doing yard work. Bruxy actually designed the podcasts to enhance the study of his book of the same title; but since I don't have the money for the book and my shelf is full of "next reads" I thought I'd see if the podcasts stand on their own. They do. It is a good conversation to eavesdrop on.

Chapter 10 is called "Thy Kingdom Come: Transcending Territory" but in this episode they include two other people, one being a documentary filmmaker, to discuss the radical peace teaching of Jesus. What a great, roundtable discussion! If you are in favor of "a Just War" premise then you really should give this episode a listen, eh.

Ev'rybody's talking about ministers,
Sinister, Banisters
And canisters, Bishops, Fishops,
Rabbis, and Pop eyes, Bye, bye, bye byes
All we are saying is give peace a chance,
All we are saying is give peace a chance
- The Beatles

Desperate Housewives go to Church

"Church is not a place for answers. It is a place for questions."
- Reverand Sikes

Desperate Housewives has stirred up controversy over the years. I have heard it used behind the pulpit as an example of our how society is slipping into moral decay. But recently the writers of ABC turned their poisoned pens towards the pride and pettiness in the pews.

The background to the episode is that one of the women on Wisteria Lane, Lynette Scavo, has just battled back from cancer and survived a tornado where a neighbor of her's had died. This opens her up asking some of the BIG questions about life. She decides she might find some answers in church, although she has no history in a house with a steeple.

The 11 minutes of this clip may be fiction, but I dare you to watch it and not flinch.

Note: The link goes to iTunes. Kudos to Doug Pagitt for editing the episode and putting it online.

"Jesus Made Me Puke"

I was sent a link today to a story from Matt Taibbi from the May issue of Rolling Stone. He writes for their website as well as a column called “Road Rage” in their magazine. He is in the process of writing a book called “The Great Derangement”. For research he went undercover to a four-day, Christian Encounter Weekend. You can see where this is leading.

I read the article for a couple of reasons. I enjoy reading good writers and I was very interested to see how Matt would describe his experience. Plus, having Rolling Stone send a staff member undercover to a Christian Retreat sounds like an updated version of Almost Famous, one of my favorite movies.

The article is long, well written and really painful. I’m not suggesting anyone go read it (but I’ll provide a link to those who would like). This isn’t an endorsement. But there is one part of his story it that I wanted to comment on:

… by my third day I began to notice how effortlessly my soft-spoken Matt-mannequin was going through his robotic motions of praise, and I was shocked. For a brief, fleeting moment I could see how under different circumstances it would be easy enough to bury your "sinful" self far under the skin of your outer Christian and to just travel through life this way. So long as you go through all the motions, no one will care who you really are underneath. And besides, so long as you are going through all the motions, never breaking the facade, who are you really?

If what we are presenting in Christianity is a religion that allows us to stuff our junk then no wonder our attempts of bringing God to the masses isn’t working. Here at a weekend encounter that is presented as a way to help the participants deal with their sin, it instead came across as a theatrical way to mask a person’s pain and shut off their brain.

Matt’s article is titled, “Jesus Made Me Puke” and it refers to the séance part of the seminar when the participants were given paper bags to vomit their demons into. Matt faked his spiritual regurgitation just like he did every other part of the weekend. But if somebody is really puking, I bet it is Jesus as he sees how he is being represented by his so-called friends.

If Matt had actually spent a weekend away with Him, he would have written a whole different article.

Father, forgive them...they don't know what they are doing...

Today I read this blog entry that I'd like to share here on In Retentis. I'll put the first couple of paragraphs here and then you can go to Jason's blog site to read the rest.

Yesterday I was making my way through town to pick up Aly from a Birthday party. I had just finished talking to a friend and was collecting my thoughts in transit.

I approached an intersection in my town only to be attacked with “streetcorner evangelists” with Bibles held high in the air, like a public sword drill. They were screaming something, but since it was freezing cold, everyone’s windows where rolled up muting their passionate shouts. I’m glad no one could hear them. The signs they were holding up said it all… “The angel of the Lord will see the blood and pass over…” Exodus whatever, whatever. There were a couple other signs as well. They were other obscure truncated quotes from the Old Testament that were meant to induce some apocalyptic paranoia in the passerbys. Fear-mongers.

Click here for the rest of the blog

So Glad

I had laid some mighty plans,
Thought I held them in my hands.
Then my world began to crumble all away.
I tried to build it back again;
I couldn't bear to see it end,
How it hurt to know You wanted it that way.

And I'm so glad,
Glad to find the reason,
That I'm happy-sad
That You've torn it all away,
And I'm so glad,
Though it hurts to know I'm leaving
Everything I ever thought that I would be.
Once I held it in my hand.
It was a kingdom made of sand.
But now You've blown it all away.
I can't believe that I can say,
That I'm glad.

Long before my plans were made,
I know a master plan was laid,
With a power that superseded my control.
And if that truth could pierce my heart,
I wouldn't wander from the start,
Trying desperately to make it on my own.

And I'm so glad,
Glad to find the reason,
That I'm happy-sad
That You've torn it all away,
And I'm so glad,
Though it hurts to know I'm leaving
Everything I ever thought that I would be.
Once I held it in my hand.
It was a kingdom made of sand.
But now You've blown it all away.
I can't believe that I can say,
That I'm glad.

- Chris Christian, Elliott Bannister, & Amy Grant

All I Ever Have To Be

When the weight of all my dreams
Is resting heavy on my head,
And the thoughtful words of health and hope
Have all been nicely said.

But I'm still hurting,
Wondering if I'll ever be
The one I think I am.

I think I am.

Then you gently re-remind me
That you've made me from the first,
And the more I try to be the best
The more I get the worst.

And I realize the good in me,
Is only there because of who you are.

Who you are...

And all I ever have to be
Is what you've made me.
Any more or less would be a step
Out of your plan.

As you daily recreate me,
Help me always keep in mind
That I only have to do
What I can find.

And all I ever have to be
All I have to be
All I ever have to be
Is what youve made me.

- Gary Chapman

I had hoped

Today was the first day in over 12 years that I haven't had responsibilities in the institutionalized church. There was a sense of freedom this weekend, especially from the normal pressure of preparing for the form and functions of the services I normally preside. But there was also a sense of loss and a great sense of grieving.

One of my biggest challenges is helping each member of my family walk their own way on this new path. The decisions I am making for me certainly have an impact on the others, but I don't want to dictate to them how they should feel, or even how they need to proceed. I'm trying to make healthy decisions for myself and give them the freedom and encouragement to do the same.

This weekend I just knew that I didn't want to be at THAT church. My wife was certain she wasn't to be in ANY institutional church. Two of the children wanted to go back to hang with their friends, one wanted to hang with us, and the youngest slept through the discussion and the decision making. He woke up upset because his Sunday school class was planning on spending the whole day outside in recess. I understand his thinking. He lives for having fun on the playgrounds of this world.

After dropping off the two older kids where I used to hang my hat, I went to the neighborhood church half a block from my home. I know what you must be thinking, "You spent your first Sunday of freedom in another IC?" Well, I feel a bit chagrined, but yes, I did. I've connected with the pastor of this church and consider him a friend (as much as our busy positions have allowed). This means we know each other's names, share resources on occasion and pray for each other. This last year we had a couple of opportunities to share our hearts together. Both of us were taking hits from our own team mates. At our last meeting he wasn't sure that he would be in his role much longer. It looks like I beat him to the punch.

He was surprised when I walked through the front doors. He was blessed thinking I had spent a rare Sunday off at his church. Well, they aren't so rare anymore, and I ended up being the one that was blessed.

He spoke from the text in Luke 24 about Cleophas and his friend who were walking towards Emmaus in a deep discussion. They were sad. They were concerned. They were unaware that it was Jesus walking with them. Some of their blindness must have had to do with their tears which makes everything a little blurry. Some of it was because Father didn't want them to recognize Jesus yet.

What was their discussion? The sentences probably started with the words, "I had hoped..."
"I had hoped that Jesus was really the Messiah."
"I had hoped that we would have stayed as a group for the rest of our lives."
"I had hoped that the religious leaders would have seen the error of their ways."

And I realized that those words start much of the conversations my heart is having right now:
"I had hoped that this job was the one that I was meant for"
"I had hoped to be with those people for the rest of my life."
"I had hoped the (other) religious leaders would have seen the error of their ways."
"I had hoped to have had my chance at leading from the top"
"I had hoped to have had the pulpit more."
"I had hoped that others would have seen my indispensability."
"I had hoped things wouldn't move on so easily without me."
"I had hoped... I had hoped."

But what Cleophas and company received was even better than they imagined. They had sweet communion with Jesus. They partook of his life, both in the representation of His broken body and in the presence of His resurrected one. The reality of the Kingdom was far greater than that which the disciples imagined.

I need that resurrection hope today. My aspirations are like fading memories of early morning dreams. I need them replaced with His presence. I need my heartburn of anxiety swapped for a burning heart from His Words. I need a long walk to Emmaus with Jesus. I need my eyes opened to His Kingdom, not my own.

Through Christ you have come to trust in God. And because God raised Christ from the dead and gave him great glory, your faith and hope can be placed confidently in God.
- 1 Peter 1:21

Chisel Away My Roughness

A friend sent me this prayer. It was originally a prayer of Graham Cooke's that she adapted.

“Father, I’m weary of being misunderstood. I’m tired of the ungracious scrutiny of others. Hide me dear Lord in the secret place of your presence. Keep me from people who speak about me and not to me. I am helpless against the riptide of their words. I cannot defend myself. Refresh my heart to look on them in love. I accept this part of your cross. Change my heart to speak of your love and sculpt my life through these situations. Let their hard words and unkind actions chisel away my roughness forming Christ. I lay my heart before you, heal me that I may walk with a bounce in my step and joy in my heart. Help me to forgive completely as you do. Mentor me Jesus in the kindness of your friendship there is safety.”

Honesty? Honestly...

If yesterday was a day for taking responsibility for the role I have played in my brokenness, today is a day I am wallowing in victimization. I hate this flip flopping. But my current reality is that yesterday's tears have dried up leaving a face chiseled in anger underneath.

I look down at my body and find spears protruding at odd angles. They didn't get here by accident; they were thrown, some from behind. Those that had the responsibility to protect me instead have used me. I feel like Uriah must have felt as the rest of the army pulled back, leaving him at the front lines at the command of King David, his Commander in Chief. Uriah was sacrificed so David could cover his own shame. Then David covered up Uriah's murder like it was just the expected collateral damage of battle. Such is the price of doing business with a king; or even as I have been informed, doing business in the church.

I was charged with the crime of having an entitlement attitude, thinking something was owed me because of my appointment in the ministry. Guilty as charged. But when I turn that same argument around I find that this king and his court felt they were entitled to my life, not just my work, simply because they gave me a paycheck. I am mad at them for taking advantage of me. I am mad that I have served under a man who felt he had the right to remind me that I "serve at the pleasure of the King" thinking that would mean him. I am thankful this has been resolved, that my service to him is no longer required, because I am nearly dead from the friendly fire.

Today I want someone to pay. I want someone to suffer for the pain I am in, for the sin that has been done to me.

And then I remember someone has.

And the tears, in a rush, return.

It's Going To Take Some Time This Time

It's going to take some time this time
To get my (heart) in shape
I really feel out-of line this time
I really missed the gate
- Carole King

I was handed the reins of a ministry. I had paid my dues in the stable, served faithfully and responsibly. Now it was my turn on the track.

It was a dream! I was given the freedom, resources and time to develop a very special ministry. I pursued it with passion figuring this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Not wanting to make mistakes I did my research carefully. I interviewed those who had gone before me. I traveled the globe to talk with others on this journey. I prayed. I made a list of what was important to me, the things that resonated with my heart. I discarded the traditions that seemed like a box and would hold us back from winning the race. Then at the end of all my planning something wonderful happened; God showed up! He lent His ideas to my feeble ones and blew His Spirit on the whole mess; our pony was ready to run!

Then the tug-of-war began. Somebody else grabbed a hold of the reins thinking that I wasn't qualified or capable of running the show. So I smacked them with my riding switch and took off out the gate.

I proved the detractors wrong. I was in full stride, winning races, wearing wreaths, waving to the crowds. I fought for what was mine, what had been earned, and what I felt I deserved. It is this sense of entitlement that betrayed me.

It's going to take some time this time
And I can't make demands
But like the young trees in the wintertime
I'll learn how to bend

Others kept pulling on the rope, some in my direction, some in the other. I dug my heels in. I brought my skills of argumentation and articulation. I bloodied a few noses, all in the name of "ministry". Then I started taking shots myself. I chalked it up to fiery trials. I demonized my detractors. I was told by those around me that it was spiritual warfare so I put on my armor. The weight of it all made the racing much harder. I nearly fell a few times, but I didn't quit, I was still out in front.

And then those who owned the pony told me that I was no longer employed. The dreams I'd jockeyed for had been pink-slipped. The reign was over even before the race was finished.

After all the tears we've spent
How could we make amends
So it's one more round for experience
And I'm on the road again

Now it isn't my ministry anymore. But instead of just finding another rider, the pony is being relocated, moved to another racing track, fitted with blinders and made to pull a cart. My heart grieves.

And in the midst of the pain, I am learning. Now that I'm not racing around the track I have had some time to process what has happened. I see that I have had a high opinion of my schemes and plans. They have been more important to me than those who I have worked with in the stable. My ministry has been more important and urgent than my neighbor's well being. When I have been mistreated I have withdrawn, wallowing in self-pity towards myself and judgment towards others. I saw myself as the leader of this ministry and forgot that I was commissioned to be the lead servant.

So I'm going back to the first things: intimacy, relationship and compassion. It's a humbling journey.

And it's going to take some time this time

Losing Control

On this journey toward freedom I am recognizing some places that I have been bound. It has taken being "let go" from my role in the institutionalized church for me to feel the weight of the chains. Much of what I thought was helping me has actually held me back.

One of these areas has to do with my relationship with the leaders above me. I have held back from being real with these people. I have pretended that this was the right thing to do, that I was protecting them. I worried that they couldn't handle the feedback that I had for them. Not only did I protect them from my own feedback, but I put myself as a barrier, a buffer zone from other's feedback as well. I handled phone calls from unhappy parishioners, I had a file of letters from anyone that could be perceived having an attitude of negativity. I was a virtual virus blocker to any email that I thought was corrective to the elders. I consoled those who had been injured, pointing out what great medicine had been intended and asking them to overlook the careless bedside manners that may have hurt them. To the leaders I only let by what I thought would be helpful and uplifting. I thought I was doing them a favor, now I see what a disservice it has really been.

Now that I am free from the tinted view of the salary glasses, I am able to see things clearer. I found that I had things to share with the leadership team, things that I needed to say and should have said, but didn't. I wish I could blame them for this. I wish I could tell you they were abusive and demeaning. I wish I could tell you that they were manipulative, scheming wolves out to flock the sheep. It wouldn't be true. The only reason I didn't share openly with them was to protect me. I was afraid of disappointing them, that my approval rating would suffer, that I wouldn't be able to sit at the favored place at the ministry table any longer.

I have fought to remain in control, to be the master of my destiny; I positioned myself well.

But now on the outside of the religious box I am being faced with some of the same challenges. There are some people that are very unhappy with the circumstances regarding my removal. The temptation I face is to guide these people's responses for my benefit. Sometimes I would like to direct them to take up my case, to make sure that those in charge know just how wrong they have been. Other times I want to quiet those that are making noise, again wanting to protect the people and the institution that I've worked so hard to erect. But I'm beginning to see that both responses are still just me trying to control the situation. I am not considering what is best for those involved, I just want to be seen in a favorable light. I have been caught in the tyranny of man's approval.

I am wondering what it would be like to live a life where I truly championed others' choices and their freedom. I am wondering what it would be like to stop thinking I knew what was best for others. I am wondering what it would be like to pick up a towel and wash some feet at the table that I used to jockey for position around. I am wondering what it would be like to put this journey in the hands of Father and let Him figure it out.

I'd like to hold His hand and just walk with Him awhile. To do that, I've got to open up my fingers from their tight grasp of control and let go.

This is what it feels like
To face the truth
This is what it feels like
To know it's through
This is what it feels like
To say goodbye
This is what it feels like
For a man to cry

- Audio Adrenaline, "Losing Control"

Cliff Jumping & Free Falling

I have experienced some pretty crazy and radical things in my life. I’ve gone places few feet have tread and had opportunities that others just dream about. I’ve rafted rivers, climbed towering mountains, and hiked into a communist village where no American had ever spent the night. But one adventurous thing I really do not like is jumping off cliffs. I’ve done it, but not without some significant motivation.

The first time might be the most memorable. I had a few days left in Hawaii and the friend that I was staying with decided we should spend some of my remaining hours jumping off a cliff into the ocean. The height has fluctuated through the years in the telling of the story from 30 to 50 feet. I honestly believe the distance from leap to impact was somewhere in the middle, but it was more than long enough to feel the adrenaline rush in my core and to think I was going to die.

My friend went first. He jumped. He splashed down. He swam back to the cliff and scrambled back up.

It was now my turn.

I crept over to the edge and looked down at the waves below. My stomach wasn’t impressed and it shouted strong survival signals to my brain that were much louder than the machismo messages from my pride. I stood there for a long time and then backed off. I knew that others had survived the jump. I had seen it with my own eyes, but it just wasn’t translating into desire.

I turned to my friend. “Tell you what. You jump again so I can watch you closely, once you surface in the water I’ll follow.”

He jumped. I watched. Fear gripped me and I stood my ground.

My friend tried to bribe me to jump, tried to soothe my fears, but when nothing else worked he found some words that pushed me off the edge. “That’s fine. We can go home now. I just need you to know that my mom has jumped from that spot and she’ll be waiting for us at the condo when we get back…”

I jumped and I survived to tell the tale.

I love adventure, but I also love to be safe. And having performed some funerals for some people that didn’t respect safety, I know how important it can be.

But sometimes in my life I’ve used safety as an excuse. I’ve avoided things that would make me uncomfortable. The truth is that I’ve been afraid.

I’ve been afraid to leave my job at the church. I’ve stood on the edge for awhile now, looking over the edge at what could easily be a ministry grave yard. I’ve seen some people dog paddle at the bottom in senseless circles after leaving their jobs. I’ve seen some drown in despair after taking an entrepreneurial risk. I saw my mother thrown from the ledge of her occupation by the bosses who no longer had any need of her.

I’ve relished the power, the prestige and the (limited) profit that the ministry has fed me, but it’s made me fat and lazy. It would be good to let go, but based on fear I just.cant.let.go…

But then the word came yesterday, I have become expendable. "Pick up your last check, and God Bless you."

Push.

Falling.

Fear and freedom all in one flight.

This bird is no one’s baby and the nest was no longer a fit. This is a good thing. A God thing.

I have not jumped in presumption. I know that Father won’t let me crash into the rocks.