Sherlock Holmes And The Institutional Church

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Last night I watched the 2015 movie, Mr Holmes. It's a beautiful film which recounts the poignant story of the last years of the life of the world-famous (fictional) detective, Sherlock Holmes. At the age of 93, with his memory failing, he is desperately trying to remember the details of his last case. As the story unfolds, we learn that it was this case which caused him to retire from public life, and withdraw from London to settle in a quiet village on the Sussex coast, where he tends the bees in his apiary.

Eventually, it becomes clear that his handling of that final investigation resulted in the suicide of his client's wife, and he is driven to acknowledge that his intellectual genius is not enough for life. For all his amazing powers of observation and his near miraculous deductive reasoning, he lacks compassion - connection with the humanity of the lives around him.

But it is only when he faces the possible loss of his housekeeper's son - a young boy with whom he has formed a deep bond - that his life finally comes into focus for him and he reaches out to another human soul.

As I reflected on the way the film exposed the incapacity of Holmes' emotional life, I saw a parallel with my experience of the institutional church. Where the detective had his intellect and reasoning, the institution had its cold morality and ceaseless performance. Holmes' raison d'être was solving mysteries in life, but he failed to ever experience the mystery of life. The church's driving passion of compliance and rule-keeping was seen as proof of devotion to God, yet it failed to comprehend the mystical, transformation wrought by the Spirit of God.

Both were concerned with a dispassionate observation of human life - the way things presented to the eye - while maintaining a safe distance from the messy reality of the human heart. Both held at bay any danger of intimate connection or the exposure of their own vulnerability.

And in doing so, both have damaged the lives of those around them - sometimes leading to the death, whether physical or metaphorical, of those lives. For Holmes, the crisis leads to an acknowledgement of his 'sins' and failings. He 'confesses' to his housekeeper:

"There was a woman, once. I knew her less than a day. A quarter of an hour's conversation. She needed my help. She needed so desperately to be understood by someone... Me. So, I laid out the particulars of her case as I saw them... To her satisfaction, I thought. I watched her walk away. And within hours she'd ended her life. By identifying the cause of her despair with such clarity, I'd given her carte blanche to do just as she intended. I should've done whatever it took to save her. Lie to her, make up a story. Take her by the hand and hold her as she wept, and said, "Come live with me. "Let us be alone together." But I was fearful. Selfish. She's the reason I came here to my bees, so that I couldn't harm anyone ever again."

While it was not his intention to harm this woman, his choice to remain detached and dispassionate - to stick to "the facts" - nevertheless contributed to her despair-driven death. Likewise, the church has been culpable in harming countless souls who were offered "the truth" instead of love and connection in the midst of their desperation.

But unlike the church that I have encountered, Holmes does own his failure. He does care that he simply watched this woman walk away to her death. He does acknowledge that his "help" was worthless in the face of her distress. He does, in fact, repent.

The illustrious Sherlock Holmes humbles himself and acknowledges that facts, even when "true", will never meet the very real need for compassion and care in our lives. His eyes are opened to a greater necessity than "the truth" in life, and he allows this understanding to change him. 

In the closing scene, we glimpse his developing relationship with one who he had previously viewed as simply an employee. He has finally started to see the human behind the role; comprehending her capacity to feel and connect, despite the loss and pain she has known. We also witness his homage to the ghosts of his past - people with whom he failed to connect, but whose unacknowledged (and unreciprocated) love and care for him were vital to his well-being. And he finally recognises and honours the worth of their imperfect, irrational love for him.

And as I ponder this transformation in the great detective, I can't help but wonder if the 'church' will ever use a crisis in its own life to such good effect.

Truth, Love, And The Australian Plebiscite

Dear Lyle,

As we Australians find ourselves living with the unhappy consequences of the push for a plebiscite, I couldn't help but notice your recent, impassioned plea to "let truth be spoken in love".

It's a really great sentiment, but as I read the letter you addressed to your "friends in the LGBTIQ community" it seemed to me that you might be having some trouble putting that into action.

I'm not sure that anyone has told you this, but creating a long list of the sins of your opponents, and then implying that you are better than they are because you don't act like them, is not really likely to make anyone feel loved.

You see, I know what it's like to have someone tell me about all the wrong, bad, nasty things they think I've done, and then tell me that they love me. It didn't actually make me feel loved. In fact, I didn't believe they loved me at all. (And even if they'd told me that they meant it with all their heart, their protestations of love would have remained meaningless words to me.)

So I thought I might offer you my valuable experience to help you convey your message of love. Please find attached my suggested alternative to your current offering.

Yours sincerely,

An Australian Christian.

To the LGBTIQ community, 

I know I have no right to call you friends, because you have made it clear my sincere attempts to be friendly have completely failed. I am sorry about that, and I want you to know I hope to do better in the future. Would you be willing to forgive me, and help me learn how to really be your friend? 

I know I can't compel you to comply with my way of thinking, but I'm hoping that taking the risk of sharing my heart, and showing my good will by owning my own failings, might help to repair the bridges between us that have been all but destroyed. 

So to begin, there's this ancient collection of books I read quite a lot, called the bible. (I suspect you've heard me mention it once or twice!) I know there's a bunch of other people who read this book too. Like them, I am on a journey of understanding it, but the way I currently understand what this text says is the only way I can at the moment. (Please bear with me, I'm a work in progress, just like you.) 

I know that none of us can claim to have the "correct" interpretation of what it says, but sometimes we forget that. Mostly we do try to hold on to our "truth" with humility and express it with love. (We often fail in that, but we do try.) 

Anyway, my current understanding of this religious text means I am unable to agree that SSM would be good for our society. I know you want me to, but I just can't do it. If I'm being honest, I'd really prefer you saw things the way I do, because I believe that God sees it that way too. But I guess that's not likely to happen, is it? 

So I can only suggest that we try to learn how to disagree without demonising each other. I know I've been guilty of that, but I really do want to change. To prove that to you, I'm going to stop telling everyone that you have a secret agenda to corrupt our children. (I must admit, it's only just occurred to me how much I'd hate it if you went around saying we had a "religious agenda", and acted like we were really trying to pervert your children. Wow! Sorry about that!) 

And I'm sorry that my words and actions have inadvertently sent you the message that you are somehow a lesser human being than me. The bible says that everyone is made in the image of God - so in future, I'll try to do better at seeing the image of my God in you. 

It also seems that I've been so busy talking about protecting children from you and your friends, that I've failed to see how hypocritical I must sound to you. When there is so much awful history in my religion of children suffering unspeakable abuse at the hands of its leaders, my apparent silence on that topic is indefensible. 

I've know I've complained a lot about the really disrespectful behaviour I've been subjected to by people from 'your side' - and implied that you are all the same - but I don't think I've ever acknowledged there has been some incredibly unloving behaviour from our 'side' too. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry. I don't like being judged by the horrible behaviour of some of my supporters, so I promise I'll stop doing that to you, too. 

I can't change what I sincerely believe, and I know you shouldn't have to either. So do you think we can learn how to do this better? I'd really like to try.

Hoping to show more love with my truth in future, Lyle. 

 

 

Sex, Sin, And The Bible

Today, a friend of mine (who happens to identify as christian and gay) posted a link on his page to an article entitled 5 Things You May Not Have Realized About Paul’s Anti-Homosexual Words. My friend asked that people read it with a willingness to understand, rather than a desire to prove the author wrong (or heretical, or whatever).

Since he 'came out' a few years back, this friend has been treated appallingly by certain christians. People who had known and loved him for years seemed to suddenly view him as a monster to be hounded from their midst, rather than a brother to be loved. I know firsthand how maliciously christians can act towards those who fail to comply with their 'truth', and I understand his desire to be loved and affirmed by those who have judged and rejected instead.

The Bible Clearly Says...

But I suspect that this attempt to reach out will fail. Not based on the merits, or otherwise, of the arguments put forth in the article, but because christians have always disagreed over what the bible really says about a great many topics.

From human issues like slavery, racial inferiority, and the equality of women, to theological ones such as the rapture, the pre/mid/post-tribulation timing of such, and the question of whether the earth was created in six literal days, christians have shown that there is only one thing we can be absolutely certain of: the bible will always be used to "prove" completely contradictory things.

So while my empathy for my friend is real, I would suggest to him that he's on a road to nowhere. Because people who are certain of what the bible "clearly says" will simply dismiss out-of-hand any argument contrary to their own. So where to from here?

Well... rather than trying to prove who's right and who's heretical, maybe we need to go back to the example Jesus set. After all, isn't he the one we are supposed to be following?

For starters, Jesus showed he was actually willing to set aside "what the bible clearly said" in order to love. On more than one occasion he was reprimanded by the religious leaders for breaking the law regarding the Sabbath. On each occasion he had "clearly" contravened the law, and yet what was his response? Did he repent because they showed him chapter and verse? No! He basically told them to take a hike, declaring that doing good (and loving others is very good) took precedence over such rules and regulations. In other words, the 'law of love' trumps other, lesser laws.

Likewise, it is important to learn from Jesus's response to the religious leaders when they tried use a woman - caught in the very act of sexual sin - to trap him. When confronted with the law regarding sexual conduct, he turned the focus back onto her accusers, masterfully pointing out to them that they were all declared guilty under "The Law". In doing so, he was not only highlighting their incredible hypocrisy, but was also telling them, in no uncertain terms, to concentrate on their own sin, not that of others.

And before anyone thinks they have an ironclad 'gotcha' by gleefully pointing out that Jesus told the woman to "go and sin no more" just think about this: if Jesus was the only one qualified (by being sinless) to cast the first stone, he was also the only one qualified to tell the woman to refrain from sinning! So next time we hear someone use Jesus's words to this woman as a justification to point out the sins of others, just remember that we are only as entitled to do that, as we are to cast the first stone.

As far as I am concerned, we can argue theology and biblical interpretation until we are blue in the face, but it will change nothing - least of all people's opinions about their own correct thinking. Yet if there is anything that is "clear", it's that Jesus told us love is to govern everything we say or do. Judging and rejecting someone because we believe they are sinning is not an act of love - no matter how we try to spin it.

So regardless of what we believe the bible says about homosexuality, our calling (and example) is to love. If we want to worry about sin, let's worry about our own. But I think we would do far better to let God "worry" about it, and simply concentrate on how we can treat others so that they actually feel loved. If we are being honest, I think we'll agree that that task alone is enough to keep us busy for a lifetime.

Is This Love?

I read a heart-breaking blog post today about a child who reached out for love and understanding from the church, and who was offered judgement and condemnation in their stead. As I was reading, the following words leaped out at me:

“If we want to understand what it means to love, we need to be looking to Christ, and taking notice of those he drew to himself and the way in which he drew them. The way in which we ourselves were drawn.”

Those words raised an important question in my mind: How many people in the church actually have been 'drawn to Jesus' because of his outrageous, totally unconditional love?

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And how many have merely “made a decision for Christ” because they were told that unless they did, they would spend eternity being tortured in hell?

How many simply muttered "the sinner's prayer" like an incantation as insurance against being condemned to an unending punishment, having been assured that the “wrath of God” can be assuaged by nothing less?

And it occurred to me that maybe this is the heart of the problem. That we are unable to love like Jesus loved, because we have never actually received that love ourselves.

I know growing up in the church, this was my experience.

I was told that God loved me. But the proof I was offered was that he slaughtered his own son in order to "pay the debt" I owed him for being born such a miserable sinner. (Even though being born at all was his idea, not mine.)

I was told that Jesus loved me. They said he'd proved it by "taking my place" and getting tortured and killed instead of me. So I kind of owed him. And that meant I had to be on my best behaviour for the rest of my life (a life which he now owned by the way) to somehow make it up to him or something.

So I said a prayer which, I was told, guaranteed me my very own "get-out-of-hell-free" card.

The trouble is, in all of this I hadn't been drawn to Jesus because he loved me. I'd been compelled to say a prayer because I was so scared of what I was told would happen if I didn't.

So I spent years "being a christian" and "going to church", while the love I knew about in theory remained just that. Theoretical. And because of that - because what I'd received was shame and fear, not love - that was all I had to offer others.

All I had to share was the message of how bad I had been until Jesus "took my punishment", and how bad others were until they accepted the same offer and then lived up to the conditions written in small print in the contract. And those conditions seemed to consist mostly of avoiding the list of sins that the church had cherry-picked out of the bible as being really too bad to forgive without a lot of grovelling and recanting, and a little bit of self-flagellation thrown in for good measure.

(Although, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure some of those "sins" were just made up to make sure we didn't have any fun, and had nothing to do with the bible at all! However, I digress...)

The point is, it is a sad reality that far too many people in the church today would swear blind that they are motivated purely by the love of God, but are really only offering shame and fear and sin-management to those around them. What is even sadder, is that they seem to have genuinely mistaken this for love!

Love Does Not Look Like Judgement

I've been thinking since I wrote my last post about our use of the phrase "Love the sinner, hate the sin." In that post I was suggesting that going out of your way to point out and denounce whatever you view as sin in the lives of others, under the guise of "love", is not in fact a very loving thing to so.

I've struggled with the notion that people who claim to worship a God whose very essence is love, can be some of the most hurtful, hateful, unloving people around. And that in so many cases, christians are not known for their love, but for their bigotry and fear and condemnation of others.

And I've wrestled with the reality that I've encountered many christians who seem to use the word love to describe behaviour which just isn't loving.

Like the board member at my ex-church who told me I'd been loved, and so I should just shut up and get over it.

I'd been bullied and then dismissed. I'd been told to submit or resign. I'd been removed from leadership. I'd been continually silenced. I'd suffered accusations based on lies. And I'd been treated like a pariah.

Yet here was this guy writing to me, "You. Have. Been. Loved." How could anyone possibly call what I'd been subjected to "love"?

It sure didn't feel like love to me.

But that's just a single example. It so doesn't stop there. Every day, both online and face to face, people are being judged, rejected, cold-shouldered, put down, shunned, bullied, and silenced. And all the while the perpetrators are claiming to love! In the name of their god no less!

And that's where it gets interesting - or at least that's where the light-bulb illuminated for me. Because it occurred to me that despite paying lip-service to the notion that God IS love, many christians obviously have a view of God that is anything but loving.

It seems that the god many worship is a god of anger and vengeance. One who only tolerates us because his own son stood between us and the bloodlust of his father. A god who demands that we work hard, and jump through hoops, and suffer just to avoid the inevitable judgement that is our due.

And if, deep down where people may not even admit it to themselves, God is seen in these terms, it's no wonder they would think that judging and pointing fingers and demanding people live in line with their own morality is what love looks like. That is, after all, what their god looks like.

http://www.lovethispic.com

"Loving The Sinner..."

Love the sinner, but hate the sin.

Despite what some people say, this phrase is not from the bible. 

But it is frequently used by christians an excuse to declare how sinful the 'lifestyle choices' of others are.

"I love you, but you're going to hell." "I'm only telling you how sinful you are because I love you." 

I do not believe that anyone has ever felt loved by that! And I've certainly never seen anyone change their behaviour because they were told how much their sin was hated.

But the bible does tell us that God's kindness leads us to repentance. So maybe we can leave it up to him to deal with other people's sin. Just maybe that's his business, not ours.

All Jesus told us to do was love our neighbour as much as we love ourselves. Not to go around pointing out their sins. Just to love them. 

And last time I looked, we weren't doing that very well! So maybe we can concentrate on practicing what we have been told to do, and let the instructions we've added fall to the wayside.

A-Z Quotes

Do Christians Love Like Narcissus?

Greek mythology tells the tale of Narcissus, a young man who, upon seeing his own reflection in the river, fell in love with his own beauty. So entranced was he by the sight, he could not bear to draw himself away. So eventually he died... gazing longingly at the river's image of himself.

Of course, it's only a story - a myth - but as you probably know this is where we get the term "narcissist" from. And since my last post about the church and its understanding of love, I have been wondering if the type of 'love' the church offers too much of the time is actually a pretty narcissistic love. A love that says, "I will love you for so long as you look like me." Too often, we don't love the person who is actually in front of us, we love the idea that this person can be conformed to our own image.

For example, we might hold specific ideas about 'sexual purity', so if this person behaves according to our ideals, we will love them.

Maybe we have strong opinions about submission to authority, so as long as the person falls in line with our thinking, we will love them.

Or perhaps we are convinced that all true christians should believe in a certain doctrine. So as long as others subscribe to that doctrine, we will love them.

But what happens when the people we tell ourselves we love, behave in a way that falls outside our approved list of behaviours? How do we respond when they challenge our pet theologies? Where do we turn when they stop looking like us and start looking like themselves?

I believe that this is the acid test of whether we ever truly loved them, or whether what we loved was the image of ourselves reflected in their compliance.

The sad thing is that this immature, self-serving love is the only one many people have experienced within the church. The love that you can only count on as long as you hold up your end of the bargain. The sort of love that uses the words, "I love you", but says with every action and attitude, "You're not acceptable unless you look like me."

When we say we love someone and yet insist they conform to our way of thinking and behaving, we actually only love ourselves. And 'loving' like that means we simply want to stare at our own reflections until we die of our own self obsession.

Does The Church Know What Love Really Is?

"If You are struggling with any area of [this] information it is your problem, not ours. If you feel a breakdown in trust and relationship it is your issue not ours. If you don't seem to be able to give a righteous response to what you believe was said and done then go and seek counsel. You have been ministered to, you have been included, you have been loved." [Emphasis added]

These were words sent to me by a board member of my ex-church after I had written to the board, letting them know that I was struggling with being told, amongst other things, that I should submit to the "godly authority" of the man who was bullying me. The email I received in response explained that the board had done nothing wrong, and were, in fact, at peace with God and themselves. If there was a problem, it was mine alone. I had "been loved" and so it was about time I got with the program and performed acceptably again.

The only trouble with this is that I hadn't been loved. I had been dismissed; I had been ignored; I had been silenced. I had been told, in effect, to sit down and shut up. Where I had previously been approved of for my compliance and performance, I was now being judged and rejected. It was not love. It was control.

If I behaved in the approved manner, I was praised and affirmed. But as soon as I lifted the rug and uncovered the dirt underneath, I was labelled a trouble-maker. When I resisted the demand to pretend it wasn’t there, I became the problem.

And the problem with me being viewed as the problem is that I wasn’t really the problem…

The real problem was that none of us seemed to know how to love like Jesus loved. Love was confused with control. The imperative was to control behaviour; control feelings; control the narrative itself.

As I have said many times before, my experience is far from unique. Hundreds of thousands have been, or are being controlled and abused by an institution which claims to be representing the One who is Love!

But do we know what love really is? 

We have made decisions about what it should look like to be worthy of our love. We have chosen to police people's behaviour - to reward the 'good' and punish the 'bad'. We have told people that we love them, when really we are just using positive re-inforcement to manipulate them into acting the manner we have approved. That is not love.

We who are called to love without cost, have confused love with control.

And although it will sometimes get us what we want, the trouble with using control is that we inadvertently make ourselves a slave to the response of the other person. If they won’t play the game, then we have to up the ante until they accede to our demand for compliance.

And when everything has been done to make others behave according to our rules, and they have still failed to comply, we are left with no alternative but to shun them.

They aren’t following the script, so they have to be written out of the show.

And so people who were once friends, or members of the same family, are no longer able to even talk to one other, and they find themselves miserably imprisoned by the refusal of the other to submit to their demands.

Now, you may have heard it said that if you really love someone you should set them free. Well I have discovered there is an incredible paradox in that – when we truly love someone, we actually set ourselves free!

Loving people the way Jesus did sets us free from the need to control their behaviour. In fact it sets us free from needing anything at all from them, because loving someone is simply wanting the best for them. And that is never dependent on their response. So we find ourselves at liberty to love... regardless.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s absolutely wonderful when love is reciprocated - and there’s nothing at all wrong in wanting that - it’s just that real love is not dependent on it. We can love someone regardless of their responsiveness to us. Just look at Jesus. He managed to love people who were out for his blood - literally!

So maybe it's time for the church to start following Jesus. Let's give up the control, and do away with the need to make others 'behave'. I promise you that truly loving others is an incredibly liberating thing to do!

A Challenge to Religious Leaders

Jesus once told a story that we have come to know as the parable of the "Good Samaritan". In it he describes the response of two religious leaders when they came across a man lying by the side of the road, naked and half dead, after being beaten and robbed by a bunch of thugs.

Both the priest and the Levite saw this man in pain and need and chose to ignore him. They gathered their skirts around them, crossed to the other side of the road, and walked on as if fearing they would be contaminated by the man's need.

Don't stop. Don't help. God forbid we should get involved!

These religious leaders were far too busy doing important things for God to stop and help a brother in pain. Their celebrated religious work took priority over the distress of this unimportant nobody.

And anyway, it was probably his own fault that he was in such dire straits in the first place. In all likelihood, he'd brought his misfortune on himself!

Finally, down that same road came another 'nobody'. Wrong country. Wrong religion. Not important!

And it was this man who displayed human decency. The one who stopped; who cared; who showed mercy; who acted on behalf of the one suffering; who brought comfort and healing.

He was the one who demonstrated love!

Sadly, it seems the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Because the religious leaders are still leaving people bleeding on the side of the road. They are still ignoring the pleas for help and support from those lying bleeding by the roadside. They are still too busy congratulating themselves on their important work to take a stand for what is right and just.

What's even worse, they are often the ones inflicting the wounds. And none of their fellow leaders seem to see anything wrong in that!

So it is still the nobodies - those from the wrong group, with the wrong spirituality - who are the ones patching up the wounded, bringing comfort and healing to those the religious leaders have left for dead.

And so I offer a challenge to those who see themselves as leaders of the faith: Will you "go and do likewise" as Jesus instructed - will you actually love your neighbour and not just talk about it?

Or will you continue to draw your skirts around you, keep busy with your important religious duties and refuse to meet the need?

Fear and Crusades

Recently, I left this comment on Jory Micah's blog post regarding Mark Driscoll's unhealthy teaching on submission:

"The whole ‘biblical submission’ teaching is absolutely toxic! Despite the fact that it is a residue of the shepherding movement (whose leaders have long since repented of their teaching) men are still peddling versions of this crap because it panders to their egos and means they get to be ‘over’ others. It damages lives and is the antithesis of Jesus’s teachings. 

In my own experience, when I complained about the abusive and bullying behaviour of my male co-leader, that behaviour was not even questioned and I was made out to be the problem. I was given the choice to submit to his “godly leadership” or resign! And just like MD, this man now runs his own church, and I fear for those ‘under’ him!"

A short time later an anonymous reader replied with this:

Bad grammar aside, this is exactly the sort of behaviour I was subjected to at my ex-church! Threats and intimidation to keep me in line - to control my behaviour!

Now I seriously question the intent behind using fear as a motivation for anything, let alone to preserve your 'salvation'. Can you imagine a god who says in effect, "Behave acceptably or I'll throw you out of the club!" It's worth based on compliance - on conforming to a set of prescribed behaviours! 

That just doesn't sound like the one who was happy to hang out with the social rejects of his day; to openly display how much he valued them. And it sure doesn't sound like the one who spoke out against the self-righteous religious leaders' and their willingness to unnecessarily burden those supposed to be in their care.

The interesting thing I've found is that since leaving the religious institution, I'm no longer driven by fear. I no longer fear making mistakes; I no longer fear getting it 'wrong'; I no longer fear failing to have the 'right' doctrine; I no longer fear not measuring up to the expectations of others.

Instead, I have found a beautiful confidence in the capacity of God. His capacity to love me, to redeem me, to be enough for me. Confidence that I am fully acceptable to him, period!

The other thing I question is the concept of "crusading for truth". It's not about loving others, it's about "crusading". It's about insisting on your truth trumping that of others. Just the use of the word 'crusade' speaks volumes to me about the mindset behind the words. It speaks of a militant and aggressive approach - an 'us' versus 'them' attitude.

Somehow, that doesn't sit well with the life of the one who chose to die rather than use power and might to prove his point.

I don't know about you, but I am completely over the use of fear and crusades to push religion. I'm ready to try the suggestion Jesus made: to simply love God and love others... 

The Fantasy of Church Culture

In my last post, I mentioned watching the efforts of my ex-fellow elder to pretend he was unaware of my presence. I also mentioned how funny I found them. (I also admitted that I used to find this sort of behaviour deeply painful and hurtful.) So when a friend commented on my Facebook page that it gave her hope that she might also get to that same point of freedom from the pain, it made me stop and think about my response to his performance, and how I have got to this place myself.

One of the biggest factors at play has got to be the 'awakening' process I've journeyed through. I call it that because when I think about it, I am reminded of the lyrics of the Keith Green song:

Like waking up from the longest dream, how real it seemed
Until your love broke through
I've been lost in a fantasy, that blinded me
Until your love broke through

That's how it feels sometimes - that I've lived so much of my life in a dream-like state known as 'church culture', and finally the real love of God has opened my eyes to how much rubbish has been substituted for the simplicity of following Jesus. Christian culture too often blinds us to the unadorned call to love God and love others.

Waking up was a process. It didn't happen overnight. At first, I grieved the loss of all that is seen as important in church culture - things like a 'position' in the church and an officially recognised 'ministry'. I had fallen for the lie that I needed these things to be effective for God and it felt like I'd had these things stolen from me. I wanted to love and care for others, but I wasn't allowed to.

Sometimes, waking up is a process...

To make matters worse, those who had ripped me apart emotionally in this way were being held up to me as shining examples of how I should be. They were right (& righteous!). They had forgiven. They had 'moved on'. I should be like them.

But I kept hoping for an apology from those who'd abused me. Wanting justice for the wrong that had been done to me. Seeking validation of my claims against others.

I wanted something from these people, but they wouldn't even look at me!

So when they judged me and shunned me - when they treated me like I wasn't there and looked straight through me - it just re-opened all the wounds they'd inflicted on me and rubbed salt into them.

And then I started to wake up. To open my eyes. To see that these people were victims of their own fantasy. They'd built up a world that didn't exist. Where everyone was happy and loving and forgiving and perfect. Where all you had to do was say the magic words and everything was all ok. They couldn't afford to have the fantasy exposed, so anyone who saw things differently was a threat to the illusion, and they had to be dealt with! (What a pity burning at the stake was no longer an option!)

It seemed to me that they had locked themselves in a cage and thrown away the key... and were now desperately trying to convince everyone (including themselves) that they were the ones who were free. And it occurred to me that if these people couldn't even face me to acknowledge my presence, let alone actually meet with me and deal with our issues, it wasn't me who had the problem.

As I watched the contortions and the pretence, it became obvious which of us had really "forgiven and moved on".

And it was when I realised I no longer wanted - or needed - anything from these people.

It was then that I realised that I'd woken up from the dream-world of church culture. I didn't need official platforms or the approval of 'church leaders' to love and minster to others. I was free to love God and love others... wherever and whenever. It stopped being a performance and became simply the way I lived. I realised that I was happy... and I was free.

And I pray that my friend finds that place of freedom, too!

In Which I Am Grateful For My Loss!

This past week, with social media bristling with the noise and reaction to the American Supreme Court's decision regarding same sex marriage, my strongest emotional response has been one of gratitude for being hounded from the IC (institutional church).

That might sound strange... but I can explain.

You see, I spent most of my life in the IC and it taught me well. It taught me that there was a right way to think and a wrong way. It taught me that there was an acceptable way to behave and an unacceptable way. Most of all, it taught me to fear.

To fear anything that was outside the prescribed and approved thoughts and behaviours.

And so with fear and outrage running hot across the internet, and memories of how I, too, used to live in that space flooding in, I was overcome with gratitude for the freedom and rest I've discovered since IC and I so painfully parted ways.

I didn't have to react to what the newsfeeds where screaming at me. I didn't need to fear the sky was falling in. I didn't feel obliged to jump in and 'defend' anything.

I just sat with God and relished his love and his peace, knowing he was immeasurably bigger...

Persuasion

There's an ancient story about a competition between the sun and the wind. Apparently the wind was boasting to the sun about being so much stronger. The sun, on the other hand, was arguing that gentleness could be just as powerful. After each fails to convince the other, the sun suggests a competition.

Just at that moment, a man is seen walking down the road. The sun points him out to the wind and suggests that whoever can persuade him to remove his coat is clearly the greater of the two. The wind agrees.

Anyway the wind decides to try first. It blows and blusters and buffets the man - trying to obtain its objective. The trouble is the harder it blows the tighter the man clutches his coat to his form.

So the wind tries harder - until it blows the leaves from the trees and the birds from the sky. But to no avail. The only thing the wind can achieve is to make the man cling to his coat for dear life.

Frustrated and exhausted, the wind admits defeat and makes way for the sun to try.

Well the sun steps up and starts to softly shine on the man. It gently glows and then brightly beams... and pretty soon the man is not just unbuttoning his coat, but removing it altogether!

Amazing, right!?

And the moral of the story? "Gentle persuasion is stronger than force."

Now there is a reason I'm sharing this childhood memory. I've been pondering the question, "Who do we emulate when we are discussing our beliefs with others - the wind, or the sun?"

Are we so convinced of our own righteousness, that we bully and bluster, threatening hellfire and damnation, in an attempt to compel people to agree with us, to enforce our absolute "Truth" upon our listeners? Are we harsh in our interactions with others, 'justifying' it as defending "The Word"?

Is disagreement rejected out-of-hand? Do we use scripture verses to beat others into submission? Do we pour scorn on anyone who dares to suggest a different way of interpreting them? 

Or do we shine with the warmth of love and kindness? Are we gentle with the vulnerable? Do we speak softly to the broken? Do we make it pleasant (and safe) to sit and talk for a while?

And in meditating on these things, I think I may have stumbled on something of value!

Maybe - just maybe - people would respond more positively to our message if we tried a little more warmth and little less icy blast!

What do you think?

How Do We Measure Goodness?

After a recent hard season of sadness and loss (including the death of my mother), my husband and I were thrilled to have the opportunity of a week away together. No children, no responsibilities. We could please ourselves with what we did, and when.

And so we slept in, ate delicious food, drank lots of wine, and stayed up late watching movies. And we remembered that life is good. And we were grateful.

And we talked about life as it has been in the past, and life as we believe it could be. Life as maybe it was created to be.

And I have come back with a renewed desire to live well in the small things, the mundane, the everyday. To live in such a way that others feel blessed, and loved, and valued.

While we were away, one of the films we watched (and which captured my attention) was "Chocolat", which tells the stories of the people of a small French village in 1959. The mayor, Comte de Reynaud, is a man of strict morals and unyielding religion. He is aghast when Vianne Rocher, a single mother, arrives and sets up a chocolatier in the town. During the season of Lent no less!

The tragedy is that the Comte's religion only inspires him to demand that the villagers accede to his harsh moral absolutes - he seems to care nothing about their lives beyond their outward conformity to this code. And he uses the Catholic priest, Pere Henri, as a mouthpiece for his own bitter, religious dogma. No love, no joy, just self-denial and joyless work. Yet you sense he yearns for something more.

And it is the one he condemns as a sinful temptress who shows genuine care and compassion to those around her. She reaches out to them, invites them in, shares her joie de vivre.

Now I know that many people would point out that she was sinful, immoral, pagan even - but the fruit of her engagement with others was sweet.

Others would say it was all just horribly cliched and that everyone knows that "Hollywood" (a catch-all name meaning anyone who makes films and is not a christian) is always portraying christians in a negative light.

But I'm not so sure.

It didn't feel cliched to me - it felt all too familiar.

And I would like to ask a question. Is it possible that the negative, "Hollywood" portrayal of christians is the result of genuine observation? Can it be that this is what has been seen and experienced?

Toward the end of the film Pere Henri is finally allowed to speak from his heart.

"I'm not sure what the theme of my homily today ought to be. Do I want to speak of the miracle of Our Lord's divine transformation? Not really, no. I don't want to talk about His divinity. I'd rather talk about His humanity. I mean, you know, how He lived His life, here on Earth. His kindness, His tolerance... Listen, here's what I think. I think that we can't go around... measuring our goodness by what we don't do. By what we deny ourselves, what we resist, and who we exclude. I think... we've got to measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create... and who we include." 

Beautiful words, I thought.

And maybe worth considering...

A Surprising Discovery

Desktop Nexus

The realisation suddenly hit me the other day that I've never in all my life felt more confident or more comfortable with who I am. I'm more at ease, relaxed, at rest, in knowing who I am.

I no longer feel I have to prove anything to anyone. That I have to live up to someone else's expectations. Fit into someone else's box.

And it's a good feeling!

But it's rather ironic.

I spent all those years "going to church", trying to be a "good christian", doing what I was told. Believing that if I did and said all the right things I'd feel the peace and joy I was promised.

But it always eluded me. For years. I'd catch glimpses but then it was gone. Maybe if I just worked more, tried harder, was more submissive to those 'over' me…

And then came the betrayal. And all the words I'd put my hope in proved hollow. All the answers, worthless. It took pain and suffering to make me question. To rebel. Turn heretic.

I let go. I stopped trying. I gave up.

And amazingly, the peace and the joy I strived so hard to achieve are now discovered floating gently into my life and settling around me like feathers.

In being rejected I found love.

I turned to the One who made me and I trusted.

I learned to know and embrace who I am. To be at peace being me.

And I stumbled upon acceptance.

Contentment.

Freedom.

What a wonderful discovery!

Grateful

Credit: photobucket

My husband and I were sitting with a young friend during the week telling her about an experience we had in 2006 while looking for a church to attend (see this post). The sermon had not been a great experience, but my husband reminded me that the singing worship had been great. For obvious reasons, I flippantly commented, "In hindsight, maybe we should have just stayed there."

The friend, who is like a daughter to us, look slightly shocked and said, "But then you would't have met me!" (We met this precious girl as a direct result of our involvement in the church I've blogged about here.)

It was one of those moments when you see again, with sudden clarity, that even in the darkest times there are rays of redeeming sunshine which break through the pain.

I am reminded again of the goodness of God. It doesn't cancel out the sin and brokenness of our experience, but it reveals the gems concealed in the dirt, but just waiting for us to recognise.

And I am grateful!

Creeds and Redes

By Samantha Field at Defeating the Dragons

- a member of the Spiritual Abuse Survivor Blogs Network.

Interestingly, several people have asked me in the past couple of weeks whether or not I still agree with the Nicene Creed. If you’re not familiar with the history of the Nicene Creed, here’s a crash course:

In 325 AD, one of the major discussions at the Council of Nicea (council = gathering of all significant bishops) was whether or not Jesus was actually a human or if he only seemed to be human (an idea known as docetism, and a logical result ofChristian gnosticism). The Nicene Creed, which is similar in substance to the Apostle’s Creed and seems to be the final articulation of the creed found in I Corinthians 15:1-11, goes a bit like this:

We believe in one God, the Almighty, Maker of all things visible and invisible
And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God the only begotten of the Father; that is, of the essence of the Father, Light of Light, very God of very God– begotten, not made, being of one substance of the Father
By whom all things were made
Who for us, and for our salvation, came down as incarnate and was made human
He suffered, and the third day he rose again, ascended into heaven
From thence shall he come to judge the quick and the dead
And in the Holy Ghost.

The Nicene Creed is historically important because it establishes that one of the fundamental tenets of Christianity is the Incarnation. You might have heard me rave about the Incarnation before– to me, it is probably one of the most beautiful and significant doctrines of my religion. Immanuel, “God with Us,” means that God became flesh and dwelt among us, and I think that’s extraordinary. It tells me that my humanity, my physicality, my existence, my life– it matters. Considering I grew up in a world where everything about my flesh is wholly corrupt and evil and must be literally beaten into submission, the idea that God became flesh never fails to comfort me.

So, short answer: yes. I agree with the Nicene Creed. It’s considered one of the most essential definitions of Christianity, and I like that it is incredibly unifying. Catholics, Orthodox, Protestant– we all can come to the Nicene Creed and sayhere– here is where we are the same.

But . . . something sort of fell out of my mouth this morning while my partner and I were driving to church. Ever have those moments, where something you say seems like it’s been something germinating for a long time and all of sudden pops out as this fully-formed thought and it surprises you?

I was talking about how there are times when I desperately want to distance myself from the word Christian. I can’t get away, intellectually and emotionally, from my belief in a deity, and for a bunch of reasons I think that deity looks like Jesus. I want to follow Jesus– I believe that what he taught was beautiful and is worth trying to live out.

Sometimes, though, I look at religions like Buddhism and Wicca, and I think wow, there are some incredible ideas in these religions. For example, one of the most absolutely fundamental ideas of Wiccan practice is the Rede: An it harm none do what ye will, frequently shortened to “do no harm.” That’s the north star of Wicca, its central teaching: do no harm.

However, it seems to me that if you ask a Christian “what does it mean to be a Christian?” the answer you’re going to get is a list of varying beliefs, usually organized around something like the Nicene Creed.

Wouldn’t it be a spectacular if, instead, the answer to that question was they shall know you by how you love one another? Because, after all, what Jesus taught waslove. Love each other. Love your enemy. Love your neighbor. Love the least of these.

What if the most absolute essential statement anyone could make about Christianity was that we love people? That how we loved was the only thing we really cared about or ever evaluated, and we stopped asking about how “theologically sound” someone is, or how “biblically based”? What if love were our North Star, instead of do you affirm the deity of Christ and his virgin birth?

Lover or Prostitute?: The Question that Changed My Life

By David Ryser. Re-posted from his blog Catch the Wind

A number of years ago, I had the privilege of teaching at a school of ministry. My students were hungry for God, and I was constantly searching for ways to challenge them to fall more in love with Jesus and to become voices for revival in the Church. I came across a quote attributed most often to Rev. Sam Pascoe. It is a short version of the history of Christianity, and it goes like this: Christianity started in Palestine as a fellowship; it moved to Greece and became a philosophy; it moved to Italy and became an institution; it moved to Europe and became a culture; it came to America and became an enterprise.

Some of the students were only 18 or 19 years old--barely out of diapers--and I wanted them to understand and appreciate the import of the last line, so I clarified it by adding, “An enterprise. That’s a business.” After a few moments Martha, the youngest student in the class, raised her hand. I could not imagine what her question might be. I thought the little vignette was self-explanatory, and that I had performed it brilliantly. Nevertheless, I acknowledged Martha’s raised hand, “Yes, Martha.” She asked such a simple question, “A business? But isn’t it supposed to be a body?” I could not envision where this line of questioning was going, and the only response I could think of was, “Yes.” She continued, “But when a body becomes a business, isn’t that a prostitute?”

The room went dead silent.

For several seconds no one moved or spoke. We were stunned, afraid to make a sound because the presence of God had flooded into the room, and we knew we were on holy ground. All I could think in those sacred moments was, “Wow, I wish I’d thought of that.” I didn’t dare express that thought aloud. God had taken over the class.

Martha’s question changed my life. For six months, I thought about her question at least once every day. “When a body becomes a business, isn’t that a prostitute?” There is only one answer to her question. The answer is “Yes.” The American Church, tragically, is heavily populated by people who do not love God. How can we love Him? We don’t even know Him; and I mean really know Him.

What do I mean when I say “really know Him?” Our understanding of knowing and knowledge stems from our western culture (which is based in ancient Greek philosophical thought). We believe we have knowledge (and, by extension, wisdom) when we have collected information. A collection of information is not the same thing as knowledge, especially in the culture of the Bible (which is an eastern, non-Greek, culture). In the eastern culture, all knowledge is experiential. In western/Greek culture, we argue from premise to conclusion without regard for experience--or so we think. An example might be helpful here. Let us suppose a question based upon the following two premises: First, that wheat does not grow in a cold climate and second, that England has a cold climate. The question: Does wheat grow in England? The vast majority of people from the western/Greek culture would answer, “No. If wheat does not grow in a cold climate and if England has a cold climate, then it follows that wheat does not grow in England.” In the eastern culture, the answer to the same question, based on the same premises, most likely would be, “I don’t know. I’ve never been to England.” We laugh at this thinking, but when I posed the same question to my friends from England, their answer was, “Yes, of course wheat grows in England. We’re from there, and we know wheat grows there.” They overcame their cultural way of thinking because of their life experience.

Experience trumps information when it comes to knowledge.

A similar problem exists with our concept of belief. We say we believe something (or someone) apart from personal experience. This definition of belief is not extended to our stockbroker, however. Again, allow me to explain. Suppose my stockbroker phones me and says, “I have a hot tip on a stock that is going to triple in price within the next week. I want your permission to transfer $10,000 from your cash account and buy this stock.” That’s a lot of money for me, so I ask, “Do you really believe this stock will triple in price, and so quickly?” He/she answers, “I sure do.” I say, “That sounds great! How exciting! So how much of your own money have you invested in this stock?” He/she answers, “None.” Does my stockbroker believe? Truly believe? I don’t think so, and suddenly I don’t believe, either. How can we be so discerning in the things of this world, especially when they involve money, and so indiscriminate when it comes to spiritual things? The fact is, we do not know or believe apart from experience. The Bible was written to people who would not understand the concepts of knowledge, belief, and faith apart from experience.

I suspect God thinks this way also.

So I stand by my statement that most American Christians do not know God--much less love Him. The root of this condition originates in how we came to God. Most of us came to Him because of what we were told He would do for us. We were promised that He would bless us in life and take us to heaven after death. We married Him for His money, and we don’t care if He lives or dies as long as we can get His stuff. We have made the Kingdom of God into a business, merchandising His anointing. This should not be. We are commanded to love God, and are called to be the Bride of Christ--that’s pretty intimate stuff. We are supposed to be His lovers. How can we love someone we don’t even know? And even if we do know someone, is that a guarantee that we truly love them?

Are we lovers or prostitutes?

I was pondering Martha’s question again one day, and considered the question, “What’s the difference between a lover and a prostitute?” I realized that both do many of the same things, but a lover does what she does because she loves. A prostitute pretends to love, but only as long as you pay. Then I asked the question, “What would happen if God stopped paying me?”

For the next several months, I allowed God to search me to uncover my motives for loving and serving Him. Was I really a true lover of God? What would happen if He stopped blessing me? What if He never did another thing for me? Would I still love Him? Please understand, I believe in the promises and blessings of God. The issue here is not whether God blesses His children; the issue is the condition of my heart. Why do I serve Him? Are His blessings in my life the gifts of a loving Father, or are they a wage that I have earned or a bribe/payment to love Him? Do I love God without any conditions? It took several months to work through these questions. Even now I wonder if my desire to love God is always matched by my attitude and behavior. I still catch myself being disappointed with God and angry that He has not met some perceived need in my life. I suspect this is something which is never fully resolved, but I want more than anything else to be a true lover of God.

So what is it going to be? Which are we, lover or prostitute? There are no prostitutes in heaven, or in the Kingdom of God for that matter, but there are plenty of former prostitutes in both places. Take it from a recovering prostitute when I say there is no substitute for unconditional, intimate relationship with God. And I mean there is no palatable substitute available to us (take another look at Matthew 7:21-23 sometime). We must choose.

Where There's a Shadow, There's a Light

This week has been hard. I’ve had to wrestle with ghosts I thought were decently buried. Talk about the living dead! There were times when the struggle with my thoughts was so hard, it felt like zombies lurching around trying to eat my brain. But they have been exorcised again!

And even though this week was hard, there were also good things to be discovered in it.

1. It re-confirmed my heart in writing this blog: to counter the lies that abuse sears into your soul and to speak hope and life in their place.

When you have left (or been driven out of) an abusive church, you find yourself on the outside - no longer welcome. No-one understands because no-one wants to believe your story is true. You are unacceptable proof of the bankruptcy of their system, an undesirable reminder of its failure. You are an offence and so you become the object of repeated rejection.

But I am shouting from the rooftops that this is not the truth.

You are NOT the problem. You are NOT a troublemaker. You are NOT insane.

If someone chooses to bully you, that is not your fault. There is no excuse or justification for abuse. None.

And I want you to know that in the very depths of your being!

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2. It reminded me that there are some brilliant people in my life who I love dearly and who genuinely love me. They are people who are willing to embrace relationship beyond the superficial - even when it gets messy or painful. They don’t just give up or walk away when it’s not easy or comfortable. They are brave enough to be real, to challenge, to disagree, to accept, to change, to engage regardless.

There are people in my life who approach relationship as a two-way adventure - who happily give and willingly receive. They demonstrate mutuality in their friendship so I can know the joy of being blessed as well as the pleasure of being a blessing.

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3. It reaffirmed that it's ok to be who I am - that being myself is totally legitimate. I am valid and I am engaging in the here-and-now in the way that is best for me. I'm not perfect - I have strengths and weaknesses - but it's ok to be me.

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4. It reassured I am not stuck in one place, nor have I been forgotten or abandoned by God. He is still gently and patiently leading me forward. There is a hope and a future. And even though the next step in my journey feels scary right now, I don’t face it alone. He will give me the courage to keep going.

Ordinary Christianity

In Australia, there is a name that has become synonymous with church success. It conjures up pictures of huge crowds, famous speakers and rock-concert worship bands. It evokes the ideal of big, bold and exciting. I have no wish to disparage this name, but it does concern me when it is implied, as it often is, that this is what we should all be striving for.

Have we become so intoxicated with the culture of celebrity and fame that we’ve molded even our church experience to reflect our infatuation? Does the worship always have to be awesome; the preaching inspiring; the service uplifting? Do we need the excitement of the mega-gathering to ensure the presence of God?

Is this the yardstick we use to measure the power and effectiveness of our faith experience, the success of our religious fervour?

What happens when the hype fades? When there’s no charismatic leader to whip up the crowd, no companions to get high with, no pounding beat to disguise the lonely trembling of our own heart. How do we respond when life is just ordinary… mundane… boring even?

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We watch movies to see exciting people living exciting lives. In the world of film, even eating breakfast or attending a meeting can be something extraordinary. That’s what we watch for, that’s what we expect. We want to escape the mundanity of our own lives and be transported for an hour or two into another, more exciting realm. After all, who would pay to see ordinary, everyday people living out their ordinary, everyday lives?

Just Another Boring Day at the Office?

But has the Christian culture drunk too deeply from this intoxicating brew of excitement?

We are urged to do big things for God - to do great things for God. Is it just possible that the biggest, greatest thing many of us can actually do for God is to simply live our ordinary lives with love?

Will we love and befriend our husband, even if he’s not Chris Hemsworth!? Will we nurture and protect our children in a society which devalues parenting? Will we recognise the intrinsic worth of others, when they can't see it for themselves. Will we enter the lives of the hurting, the damaged, the 'unimportant' even when we know there will be no audience to witness our kindness, no crowd to applaud it?

Let's be wary of chasing celebrity and excitement, and learn instead the significance and worth of living our ordinary lives with love and bravery and holiness. Let's do this 'great thing' for Him.