After a long conversation with an atheistic friend, he turned to me and asked--with great gentleness and compassion--"so why are you a Christian?"
It seems that after the conversation he was unable to see how anything I was saying (and let me be clear, this was not an evangelistic conversation) needed a "god" figure to underwrite it. To him, it was just perfectly clear and obvious that it was better to love others; better to give than to take; better to pursue peace; better to pursue healthy relationships with others. It was just better, he didn't need "god" to prove and command that they were better--they just were.
This raised an interesting puzzle for me. Now, obviously not every person is as amazing as my friend, and would, if given the chance throw off the consequential weight that "god" brings to relationships. But I had to stop and ask myself- "Why am I a Christian? Especially when Christians are so often opposed to the things I am for?" I admit, I was stumped.
And maybe I still am. Or would be, if I wasn't thoroughly convinced of the reality of sin. I see sin--that is, destructive acts and relationships--everywhere I turned. Especially in my own life. And I recognize that there is no way for me to stop sinning or being a part of systematic sinfulness in the society I live in. And so I still need a savior. Not to let me keep on being a part of that sinful system while white washing the tomb of my participation, but by offering me a way out of that system and into life for not only myself but for others also.
I am a Christian because I still need a savior. I know that sounds trite and perhaps does not satisfy anyone. But it is simply the truth. I still need someone to reach in and pull me out of the mess of evil I create and perpetuate. We can get into all sorts of debate about ontological reasons for sin or good or evil or God, but that is not my purpose here.
I am a Christian because I still need a community of people that are committed to the same restoration and healing that I am. But what's strange about that is that community is not always found in Christian circles. This of course causes me to question whether my commitment is to Christianity or to something else. But it also causes me to question whether or not the way we define "Christianity" as a collective whole is also not actually a commitment to Christ, but to something else. Maybe God's plan for the world is much bigger than distinguishing between who is "in" and who is "out." I don't know. But I hope. And the reality is, I am a Christian, because I am committed to following Jesus, who is my savior and the source of my community.
NATHAN MYRICK
Blind Spots
I just finished reading Mark Labberton's new book Called. It is a wonderfully thoughtful and pastoral exhortation to live life in such a way as to be the gospel in an embodied way. I highly recommend it.
As I was reading it, I began thinking about the ways I do and do not live into that calling. My thoughts drifted to my church, and to my service there (and by service, I do not mean to imply that I am in charge. I simply serve there--in a volunteer capacity). My thinking turned to reflection, and I remembered a series of events from the previous year that led me to question my involvement in that community.
Now, before you get the wrong idea, I'm not going to get into any sort of detail regarding those events. I am instead going to offer the insights I gained from some of those events: what it means to belong to a community and to serve there.
I have written before about using your voice in service, and I do not want to retread too much on that topic, but as I've moved further from the time I wrote that post one thing in particular has come into sharper focus as the days have passed. That thing is humility wrapped up in confidence tied in with honesty.
Speaking your mind is a hard thing to do, especially in a big group of people who are driven and determined to accomplish something. It gets even harder when the opinion you are giving voice to is one of dissent from the prevailing attitude. This is most often because we are afraid of being alienated or labelled as "party poopers." Nobody wants the reputation of being the one who upset the jovial onrush of energy or action.
But it is important to do for two reasons. The first is obvious, and that is that it may be what others need to hear. You may have the right insight for the situation and can help steer the ship in a more healthy direction. But the second is not so obvious, at least, not at first.
The second reason is that sharing your perspective allows other people to have a glimpse into your world. It allows you to be known. This being known is the first step to being held accountable. If you truly want to grow in faith and community, you need other people to know who you are and to speak into your life when you need it.
This is the part that we really don't want, but at some level recognize that we need. And this is the challenge of being a part of a faith community. If we want to grow in our faith, and in turn participate in others growth, we need to be a part of the action. We need to voice our agreements and our disagreements--not with the purpose of getting our way (although that is a hard purpose to avoid) but with the purpose of being known and convicted if we are wrong.
And that means opening your life up to others.
There is always a down side, though. Not everyone takes this approach, and still fewer are able to recognize it and reciprocate when it is enacted. There are few things more disheartening than taking this step, voicing your opinion coupled with an invitation for others to speak to your position and identify sinful attitudes in your life, and have the response be exclusion and silence.
But that too shall pass. Keep at it. Keep voicing your opinion. Keep asking for input and accountability. Make it known that you truly want to grow, and to be a part of a community that is growing, too. Don't disconnect, keep connecting and engaging. Eventually there will be a response--maybe a negative one--but that will at least give you something to go on. And even then don't give up! Growth is sometimes painful, but necessary. Be ready to forgive and receive forgiveness.
And if the situation becomes evidently toxic, be ready to move on. Sometimes communities are not a fit for everyone, and there will be another community where you will fit. But don't make that move until you've tried everything to get connected and stay that way.
As I was reading it, I began thinking about the ways I do and do not live into that calling. My thoughts drifted to my church, and to my service there (and by service, I do not mean to imply that I am in charge. I simply serve there--in a volunteer capacity). My thinking turned to reflection, and I remembered a series of events from the previous year that led me to question my involvement in that community.
Now, before you get the wrong idea, I'm not going to get into any sort of detail regarding those events. I am instead going to offer the insights I gained from some of those events: what it means to belong to a community and to serve there.
I have written before about using your voice in service, and I do not want to retread too much on that topic, but as I've moved further from the time I wrote that post one thing in particular has come into sharper focus as the days have passed. That thing is humility wrapped up in confidence tied in with honesty.
Speaking your mind is a hard thing to do, especially in a big group of people who are driven and determined to accomplish something. It gets even harder when the opinion you are giving voice to is one of dissent from the prevailing attitude. This is most often because we are afraid of being alienated or labelled as "party poopers." Nobody wants the reputation of being the one who upset the jovial onrush of energy or action.
But it is important to do for two reasons. The first is obvious, and that is that it may be what others need to hear. You may have the right insight for the situation and can help steer the ship in a more healthy direction. But the second is not so obvious, at least, not at first.
The second reason is that sharing your perspective allows other people to have a glimpse into your world. It allows you to be known. This being known is the first step to being held accountable. If you truly want to grow in faith and community, you need other people to know who you are and to speak into your life when you need it.
This is the part that we really don't want, but at some level recognize that we need. And this is the challenge of being a part of a faith community. If we want to grow in our faith, and in turn participate in others growth, we need to be a part of the action. We need to voice our agreements and our disagreements--not with the purpose of getting our way (although that is a hard purpose to avoid) but with the purpose of being known and convicted if we are wrong.
And that means opening your life up to others.
There is always a down side, though. Not everyone takes this approach, and still fewer are able to recognize it and reciprocate when it is enacted. There are few things more disheartening than taking this step, voicing your opinion coupled with an invitation for others to speak to your position and identify sinful attitudes in your life, and have the response be exclusion and silence.
But that too shall pass. Keep at it. Keep voicing your opinion. Keep asking for input and accountability. Make it known that you truly want to grow, and to be a part of a community that is growing, too. Don't disconnect, keep connecting and engaging. Eventually there will be a response--maybe a negative one--but that will at least give you something to go on. And even then don't give up! Growth is sometimes painful, but necessary. Be ready to forgive and receive forgiveness.
And if the situation becomes evidently toxic, be ready to move on. Sometimes communities are not a fit for everyone, and there will be another community where you will fit. But don't make that move until you've tried everything to get connected and stay that way.
On Value vs. Sin
This post in inspired by Caroline Vandenbree.
I have grown up in the tension between being loved and being sinful. I've grown up in no man's land, between the "liberal" trench of grace on my left and the "conservative" trench of the reality of sin on my right. I've heard and seen many leaders berate the 'other side' for either being too soft on sin or being too low on love or grace. And I've nodded in agreement with both.
But it never made sense to me.
It has, for as long as I've been old enough to understand the conversation, always seemed like there was some inexcusable leap being made on both sides.
This disconnect came into focus for me this last week as I was interacting with something Caroline posted on facebook. Her post was the site of some debate about wishy-washy churches vs strong, 'real' churches. Of course, it was the same old rhetoric, only this time the language had changed slightly. Instead of being an emphasis of sin at the cost of grace, or vice versa, the emphasis was on value--as in, you are valued by God regardless of anything else.
This statement of value received the push back from the 'conservative' side as being an indication of watered down gospel--not enough sin talk.
But hold on a second. Value in God's eyes has absolutely nothing to do with sinfulness. Let me say that again, being valued by God does not mean sin is not a problem. In fact, value and sinfulness are independent of one another; they don't have any bearing on the other. You are infinitely valuable regardless of your sinfulness.
And it all clicked for me. We have conflated our sense of worth with our ability to be sinless.
Our battles and melees are really a protection of our inner sense of worth. That inner sense of worth is the root of real, actual, sin. That inner value that depends on our own ability to speak rightly or abstain rightly or do rightly is exactly the source of real sin.
But you are valued beyond measure by God regardless of your sin. Value is not a negotiable commodity for God. Yes, you are a sinner and so am I, but that reality should never impinge on the grace that reveals the root of sin. You see, by emphasizing sin at the expense of value, Christians have unwittingly enabled the power of sin to remain in their life. It's like when you obsess over a bad habit; you keep doing it because you keep thinking about it. You want to stop biting your nails? Stop thinking about not biting them. Think about something else. You want to live into the call of grace that rescues us from the grip of sin? Stop thinking about sinning or not sinning or making sure everyone else knows how sinful they are. Let the cost of God's value of your person render your inner righteousness the rubbish you want everyone else's righteousness to be.
You are a sinner and you are valuable. Those two things are not in opposition.
I have grown up in the tension between being loved and being sinful. I've grown up in no man's land, between the "liberal" trench of grace on my left and the "conservative" trench of the reality of sin on my right. I've heard and seen many leaders berate the 'other side' for either being too soft on sin or being too low on love or grace. And I've nodded in agreement with both.
But it never made sense to me.
It has, for as long as I've been old enough to understand the conversation, always seemed like there was some inexcusable leap being made on both sides.
This disconnect came into focus for me this last week as I was interacting with something Caroline posted on facebook. Her post was the site of some debate about wishy-washy churches vs strong, 'real' churches. Of course, it was the same old rhetoric, only this time the language had changed slightly. Instead of being an emphasis of sin at the cost of grace, or vice versa, the emphasis was on value--as in, you are valued by God regardless of anything else.
This statement of value received the push back from the 'conservative' side as being an indication of watered down gospel--not enough sin talk.
But hold on a second. Value in God's eyes has absolutely nothing to do with sinfulness. Let me say that again, being valued by God does not mean sin is not a problem. In fact, value and sinfulness are independent of one another; they don't have any bearing on the other. You are infinitely valuable regardless of your sinfulness.
And it all clicked for me. We have conflated our sense of worth with our ability to be sinless.
Our battles and melees are really a protection of our inner sense of worth. That inner sense of worth is the root of real, actual, sin. That inner value that depends on our own ability to speak rightly or abstain rightly or do rightly is exactly the source of real sin.
But you are valued beyond measure by God regardless of your sin. Value is not a negotiable commodity for God. Yes, you are a sinner and so am I, but that reality should never impinge on the grace that reveals the root of sin. You see, by emphasizing sin at the expense of value, Christians have unwittingly enabled the power of sin to remain in their life. It's like when you obsess over a bad habit; you keep doing it because you keep thinking about it. You want to stop biting your nails? Stop thinking about not biting them. Think about something else. You want to live into the call of grace that rescues us from the grip of sin? Stop thinking about sinning or not sinning or making sure everyone else knows how sinful they are. Let the cost of God's value of your person render your inner righteousness the rubbish you want everyone else's righteousness to be.
You are a sinner and you are valuable. Those two things are not in opposition.
How Do You Say Nothing?
There are times in life where I simply have nothing to say. While I generally can't sleep because I have so many thoughts and ideas racing around my cranium, recently I have been sleeping like a baby. I love it! But that means I have nothing to say to the world through this little blog here.
So why am I writing this?
For two reasons. First, and selfishly, I committed to blogging regularly. I did this because I wanted to keep the "writing muscle" working, and because I wanted to strengthen my ability to honor my commitments. I am writing today to say that I have nothing to say for the sake of saying it.
Second, I value transparency and honesty. I try to curate an image of boundless ideation and constant thought. In reality, I am not that way; I have days and even weeks where not a single original or interesting thought crosses my mind. I sit like a blank canvas waiting for something I read or see to splatter some color onto the monochrome of my synapses. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn't. This is one of those doesn't times.
But is saying nothing really nothing?
Is it not that my nothing might be a something to someone who needs to hear that it is OK to take a break? I push hard. I am a stay at home dad and a full time writer. I've been given an amazing opportunity to say the things I've long wanted to by a gracious and self sacrificing wife, and I am determined to make the most of it.
But being diligent does not mean being consumed by your work. When I am in that headspace my relationship with my family suffers. Ford does not get the attention he needs and Lesley does not get the attention she deserves. As much as it pains me to be mentally sedentary for a minute, it just might be good for me.
And it might be good for you, too.
Perhaps you need to take a minute and refresh. Maybe that minute involves reconnecting with God. Maybe it involves reconnecting with people. Maybe it means reconnecting with yourself. Either way, I encourage you to take a minute today to rest.
So why am I writing this?
For two reasons. First, and selfishly, I committed to blogging regularly. I did this because I wanted to keep the "writing muscle" working, and because I wanted to strengthen my ability to honor my commitments. I am writing today to say that I have nothing to say for the sake of saying it.
Second, I value transparency and honesty. I try to curate an image of boundless ideation and constant thought. In reality, I am not that way; I have days and even weeks where not a single original or interesting thought crosses my mind. I sit like a blank canvas waiting for something I read or see to splatter some color onto the monochrome of my synapses. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn't. This is one of those doesn't times.
But is saying nothing really nothing?
Is it not that my nothing might be a something to someone who needs to hear that it is OK to take a break? I push hard. I am a stay at home dad and a full time writer. I've been given an amazing opportunity to say the things I've long wanted to by a gracious and self sacrificing wife, and I am determined to make the most of it.
But being diligent does not mean being consumed by your work. When I am in that headspace my relationship with my family suffers. Ford does not get the attention he needs and Lesley does not get the attention she deserves. As much as it pains me to be mentally sedentary for a minute, it just might be good for me.
And it might be good for you, too.
Perhaps you need to take a minute and refresh. Maybe that minute involves reconnecting with God. Maybe it involves reconnecting with people. Maybe it means reconnecting with yourself. Either way, I encourage you to take a minute today to rest.
Biblical Texts We Ignore
I got to thinking the other night about how every Christian position seems to orient itself towards certain interpretations of certain biblical passages while ignoring others. It seems that any doctrinal statement is at the expense of a comprehensive reading of the bible. Why is this?
"Numbers. Nothing good here; just a bunch of numbers..."- Lesley (Tongue planted firmly in cheek).
I posed the thought to my wife over dinner, and that was her response. She then agreed with me that each side of the conservaliberal divide emphasizes certain passages and ignores the ones the other side emphasizes.
What does this tell us?
It tells us that neither side is interested in being biblical. Instead, they are interested in being right. This is why I am not a liberal or a conservative. I've no interest in being right, nor in trying to make others think that I am so. I'm interested in being faithful.
It also tells us that our socio/political positions are woefully insufficient and catastrophically inadequate to partner with the God of the bible. If your "biblical" theology ignores part of the bible your "biblical" theology is sentimental bullshit. You can disagree about those parts that are troubling, but you can't ignore them and call yourself "biblical."
OR
The bible is contradictory. This is a statement of fact. How many times did David meet Saul? How many animals got on Noah's ark?
There are three options available in the wake of this revelation: You can ignore the parts of the bible that you don't like; you can throw out the bible altogether as nonsensical piety; or you can adjust your perspective of what the bible is saying until you can hold all of it together in first tension and finally a dissonant harmony.
What texts do you ignore?
"Numbers. Nothing good here; just a bunch of numbers..."- Lesley (Tongue planted firmly in cheek).
I posed the thought to my wife over dinner, and that was her response. She then agreed with me that each side of the conservaliberal divide emphasizes certain passages and ignores the ones the other side emphasizes.
What does this tell us?
It tells us that neither side is interested in being biblical. Instead, they are interested in being right. This is why I am not a liberal or a conservative. I've no interest in being right, nor in trying to make others think that I am so. I'm interested in being faithful.
It also tells us that our socio/political positions are woefully insufficient and catastrophically inadequate to partner with the God of the bible. If your "biblical" theology ignores part of the bible your "biblical" theology is sentimental bullshit. You can disagree about those parts that are troubling, but you can't ignore them and call yourself "biblical."
OR
The bible is contradictory. This is a statement of fact. How many times did David meet Saul? How many animals got on Noah's ark?
There are three options available in the wake of this revelation: You can ignore the parts of the bible that you don't like; you can throw out the bible altogether as nonsensical piety; or you can adjust your perspective of what the bible is saying until you can hold all of it together in first tension and finally a dissonant harmony.
What texts do you ignore?
Bleed.
This has been a summer where every ounce of optimism I had about being a Christian was vaporized like so much water in the California drought of public opinion. This has been a summer like so many others that will stand as the harbinger of things to come. From ISIS to Ukraine to Ferguson to Immigration to Wall Street the world has changed, and not for the better. But that's not what has sapped my hope for Christianity. That sapping is the result of the response of so many well-meaning (and that's my best hope for them) Christians to the events that I've just mentioned.
My God, what a world You love.
Christians. We are anything but. "The world will know you by your love" - Is that how you're known? That's not how I know you. I know you by your vitriol for anything you disagree with. I know you by your justification of systemic sin if it benefits you. I know you for your anger about what others do to water down the gospel, conform to the media's agenda, or take resources from the mouth of your children and give it to those less deserving.
I know you because I am you.
And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the fact that I am a part of it, and that everything I do or say is a part of the problem. We are the problem. Christian! You are the problem! Sin is not the problem, you are sin to those you are trying to save! If you tell someone to repent of their sin while to them you represent everything evil they will not listen. And it is on you if they fail to, because the gospel you've presented is a sham.
Our gospel is a sham because it is not good news.
I've nothing hopeful to offer in conclusion. I've no good thing to say that will soothe the wound my words have opened, because the wound should not be soothed.
Bleed.
Bleed with those whom your words have severed. Let the dust drink up your blood like the blood of your brother. Suffer the rebuke that strikes me even as it strikes you. Know that I am you. I need to change. I don't know how, and I don't imagine grace will fix it without sacrifice.
God, show us how to be like Jesus in the power of your Spirit. Show us how to be for others in love.
My God, what a world You love.
Christians. We are anything but. "The world will know you by your love" - Is that how you're known? That's not how I know you. I know you by your vitriol for anything you disagree with. I know you by your justification of systemic sin if it benefits you. I know you for your anger about what others do to water down the gospel, conform to the media's agenda, or take resources from the mouth of your children and give it to those less deserving.
I know you because I am you.
And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the fact that I am a part of it, and that everything I do or say is a part of the problem. We are the problem. Christian! You are the problem! Sin is not the problem, you are sin to those you are trying to save! If you tell someone to repent of their sin while to them you represent everything evil they will not listen. And it is on you if they fail to, because the gospel you've presented is a sham.
Our gospel is a sham because it is not good news.
I've nothing hopeful to offer in conclusion. I've no good thing to say that will soothe the wound my words have opened, because the wound should not be soothed.
Bleed.
Bleed with those whom your words have severed. Let the dust drink up your blood like the blood of your brother. Suffer the rebuke that strikes me even as it strikes you. Know that I am you. I need to change. I don't know how, and I don't imagine grace will fix it without sacrifice.
God, show us how to be like Jesus in the power of your Spirit. Show us how to be for others in love.
A New Language
Do you know anyone who is a racist? Or, better yet, do you know anyone who would claim to be a racist? Do you know anyone who would not object heartily if he were called a racist and refuse to accept that he was such?
A word devoid of meaning
It seems to me that the word "racist" and the meaning it conveys has become so much a cultural caricature that the word has lost currency. No one is a racist, because the caricature of racism is so unbelievable that it does not resonate with anyone.
Caricature is critique that has lost its power
When a critique becomes a caricature it ceases to wield power to convict. This is what has happened with the term racism. It has no power. Yet the prejudices that surround the concept of racism persist, and perhaps are even expanding. But what are we to call this ever expanding milieu of prejudice? How do we communicate with those who are such (and with ourselves if it be found that we are as well) that they are it without causing them to close their ears to our critique by the use of the word "racism/t?"
Culturism
We need a new word. I propose this: Culturism. Whereas racism assumes an essential biology, culturism reveals that the source of our prejudice is the culture--the way of speaking and acting that is meaningful--is the real source of our ire. When we are culturists when we exhibit behavior and attitudes that denigrate the normative behavior of another and find in that behavior something threatening or offensive.
The depth of prejudice
Additionally, culturism reveals that prejudice is not necessarily defined by skin color and place of birth, but is actually much less selective than that. Culturism is prejudice of action, behavior, and meaning, and this is what we actually do. So the next time you catch yourself thinking that some other group is stupid or bad, realize that what you are thinking is racist-but call it culturist so that you can still be convicted of your prejudice.
We're not racists--we're culturists.
A word devoid of meaning
It seems to me that the word "racist" and the meaning it conveys has become so much a cultural caricature that the word has lost currency. No one is a racist, because the caricature of racism is so unbelievable that it does not resonate with anyone.
Caricature is critique that has lost its power
When a critique becomes a caricature it ceases to wield power to convict. This is what has happened with the term racism. It has no power. Yet the prejudices that surround the concept of racism persist, and perhaps are even expanding. But what are we to call this ever expanding milieu of prejudice? How do we communicate with those who are such (and with ourselves if it be found that we are as well) that they are it without causing them to close their ears to our critique by the use of the word "racism/t?"
Culturism
We need a new word. I propose this: Culturism. Whereas racism assumes an essential biology, culturism reveals that the source of our prejudice is the culture--the way of speaking and acting that is meaningful--is the real source of our ire. When we are culturists when we exhibit behavior and attitudes that denigrate the normative behavior of another and find in that behavior something threatening or offensive.
The depth of prejudice
Additionally, culturism reveals that prejudice is not necessarily defined by skin color and place of birth, but is actually much less selective than that. Culturism is prejudice of action, behavior, and meaning, and this is what we actually do. So the next time you catch yourself thinking that some other group is stupid or bad, realize that what you are thinking is racist-but call it culturist so that you can still be convicted of your prejudice.
We're not racists--we're culturists.
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