What "Intolerance" Can Offer Christians

Here in Australia, as the debate continues to rage over marriage equality, there are many christians loudly and publicly lamenting that they are being subjected to intolerance when they voice their opinions in public arena. It would appear that the tide of public opinion has turned, leaving many christians feeling washed up and alone on the shore.

I understand how painful that can be. Everyone wants to feel free to share sincerely held beliefs without fear of being labelled, shamed or rejected.

Unfortunately, christians are every bit as guilty of this behaviour as anyone else. Affirming christians are being attacked, ridiculed and even having their faith categorically denied by their non-affirming brothers and sisters. LGBTI christians are suffering an even worse offensive, including open and absolute rejection.

Is it unreasonable to expect that those who claim to follow Jesus would have a better way of engaging with opposing views? If we take the name of the one who advocated that we turn the other cheek, and bless our enemies, and even lay down our lives to serve our fellow humans, how can we credibly object and lament simply because our doctrine of sin is no longer accepted or adhered to by the (non-religious) majority?

And how seriously can we expect our complaints to be taken, when we engage in exactly the same behaviour we are so loudly denouncing? How credible do we think we appear, when we "do unto others" the things we are publicly protesting having done to us?

Maybe it's time that christians realised that "the church" no longer holds the position of power in our society it once did. Even more so, that it has squandered any right to expect to be treated as a moral authority by the general population.

It's not comfortable; and it's not pleasant; and it's not what we're used to. But so far, I have not heard of any Aussie christians being beaten senseless, or criminalised, or declared mentally ill, or chemically castrated, or jailed, or murdered for holding an unpopular opinion. And yet for decades, many members of this country's LGBTI community have been subjected to these things simply because they existed.

In light of that, I would suggest that we are facing an important choice. We can continue to complain, and protest, and fight for our rights, and lobby to legislate our morality... or we can choose to see a truly redemptive opportunity for our community in this current climate. Because after living in privilege for so long - experiencing little but power and consensus - we finally have the chance to learn what it means to identify with those who have been marginalised and rejected by society (and the church).

And best of all, despite the well-voiced fears of some, no-one has to "compromise" their convictions, or "water down" their gospel, or "deny" their beliefs. All that is needed is a recognition and acknowledgement of the pain inflicted when people are rejected by their communities and deemed "unacceptable" by their peers; coupled with a willingness to stand with "the least of these" and simply love and serve them.

Breastfeeding In Church Will Not Cause Armageddon!

I'm afraid I've been thinking again...

This time it's about something that was posted in a Facebook group I belong to. Apparently some mum in Virginia (USA) went to church one Sunday morning, and tried to breastfeed her daughter while listening to the sermon. She was quickly asked to leave the room because of it, and when she enquired, was told that this was church policy. (It is worth noting, that this policy is in violation of the law of that state.)

This mum then spoke publicly about what she experienced... and boy did the sh*t hit the fan!

I have spent some time today reading the comments section of her post, and I'm still reeling from the nastiness from the church-going public.

Apparently, breastfeeding in church is not "decent", or "considerate of others". This mum was being "ridiculous" and "should have fed her child before going to church"; gone "into another room"; gone "somewhere private"; or at least "covered up" so that she didn't "bring all that drama to the church, the house of God."

This mum is apparently "totally devoid of common sense" for "flipping her BOOBS out", and "show[ing] NO concern for the stress [she] caused on others".

And on, and on it went...

"You just have no morals."
"...she's after money."
"...you just wanted 15 mins of fame..."
"You should be ashamed of yourself."
"This lady pulled her BOOB out in front of the church..."
"I pray that God Himself will deal with you."

And here's my personal favourite:

"Some one suggested that there is some group, or atheist occult that has put her up to this to get the church to change its policy, to attack it just to show its power over the church. Or to divide it. John 10:10 - The enemy comes but to kill, steal, and destroy. Mathew 11:12 - the Kingdom suffereth violence and the violent taketh by force."

Dear God, get a grip! All this "it's-end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it", simply because a mum tried to breastfeed her child in 'church'!!! Is this really what we have become!?

I just wonder how some of these people would react if a homeless person wandered in off the street. Would they lose the plot entirely, or just demand she go and have a bath and put on decent clothes?

And I wonder if these church-goers would eject the son of Mary and Joseph from their "house of God" because he didn't fit their middle-class morality. 

And I wonder if this would even be an issue at all if it was men, and not women, who were equipped by God to breastfeed their young.

But I don't wonder at all why more and more people are permanently leaving the building that some call church.

And I certainly don't wonder why there are so many people who believe christians are not safe to be around...

Twisting Theology

In the last couple of days have been laid low by a nasty virus. Rather boringly, it is the second time this particular ‘friend’ has visited in the past few weeks, and I’m just a little bit over it!

But, given the fact that this past term has been quite stressful on a number of fronts, it’s hardly surprising that it has had a detrimental effect on my health.

The funny thing is that there are people from my religious past who would have no hesitation in claiming that my ill-health is proof of God’s displeasure for my heretical beliefs and my un-submissive ways.

I can almost hear it now:

“God will not be mocked.” “You reap what you sow.” “Obedience leads to blessing, but those who turn from God are cursed.” “You need to repent of your sin.”

I suspect you get the picture…

And yet, I always seemed to hear something quite different whenever sickness or misfortune marred their own lives. It was the enemy trying to stop them "advancing the kingdom". Or it was a particular person (usually one who they didn’t like) who was putting a curse on them.

Never did I hear, “It’s because we’ve sinned and we need to repent.”

Illness was God’s judgement when it afflicted “them”, but it was the enemy’s attack when it affected “us”.

How twisted our theology can get when we need it to prove our point – or even score points against our enemies. No wonder so many believers are walking away from this nonsense.

Betraying Jesus

The Huffington Post

When I was a young woman I fell in love with a man who didn't know how to love anyone but himself. (The number of 'relationships' he's chewed through before, since... and even while we were married, bears out this reality.)

But I was young and trusting. I believed his lies. I married him.

And inevitably it ended in tears. Mine.

It was a long time ago, and I have long since found healing. The reason I mention it is because this morning I read yet another story of heartbreak and abuse in the church. The actions of the church sounded sickeningly familiar, and I wanted to shout out, "Church! Just stop hurting people!"

It seems that no matter what the specifics of the story are, the behaviours and attitudes are always the same. But as I thought about it, I realised how sharply that contrasted with my experience of dealing with aftermath of my abusive marriage.

Back then, the people at my church supported me wonderfully. They walked lovingly and patiently with me through the desolation and death of my dreams. They affirmed my feelings of pain and loss, and grieved with me. They believed me.

The love and compassion I received was life-saving (maybe even literally...)

During that time, I lamented the breaking of my trust, and nobody thought it was inappropriate that I felt betrayed. I protested my husband's abuse of me, and nobody told me to "just forgive and move on." I cried out in my pain, and nobody expected me to be pretend I wasn't hurting. I gave words to the betrayal I'd endured, and nobody tried to silence me. I told my story, and nobody shook their head and said, "There are always two sides..."

And yet, when someone stands up and says, "The church has hurt me" these things are what they can expect, and it's usually what they'll get.

The one who speaks up about the problem becomes the problem. Their cries of pain are ignored and their grievances dismissed. Submission is demanded of the one hurting, while the perpetrator is simply exonerated. The church rallies to the defence of its own reputation, at the cost of the victim's. People are shamed and silenced and shunned.

It's. Really. Not. Ok. Church, if this is the best we can do, then we're selling a lie. We're peddling power and religion, not the gospel of Jesus.

In fact, I'll say it... I believe we're betraying Jesus.

Playing Nicely

Imagine a couple of young children having fun on a playdate while their parents watch on, sipping their coffee. The children are playing with the new kitchen set one of then recently received as a present. They talk about making a dinner party for their toys and set to with zeal.

Somewhere along the way, they decide that what they actually should be doing is making dinner for their siblings. They agree wholeheartedly on this - it is definitely their responsibility. But soon trouble erupts. It seems that neither can agree on who gets invited to the meal, what food should be served, or even how to set the table.

Now imagine what this looks like to their parents. At first they see their children's idea to cook a meal as cute, even though they know it's not really a task they are capable of, or responsible for. "Look," they say, "the kid's are playing grown-ups! How sweet."

They might smile indulgently and swallow their laughter. After all, we don't want to hurt their feelings.

But then things start to get heated. One child calls the other a rude name, the other responds with a punch to the arm. Soon they're at each other's throats and have to be pulled off each other by the parents.

What a horrible end to such a thoughtful idea. They only wanted to serve their siblings, after all. But, I'm pretty sure no-one in their right mind would see this as a good outcome.

And yet, isn't this a picture of us? We who call ourselves the church?

Do you think that maybe God sometimes feels like those parents. Watching his kids playing at being grown-ups god. We think it's up to us what our siblings believe; which sins are unforgivable; who "gets into heaven".

We take ourselves so seriously, but maybe it's time we realised that we're all just little children playing in God's world. None of us get's to say whose theology is "right" and whose is heretical. None of us has the right to tell others they don't belong to God. None of us are "grown-up" enough for any of that.

So let's "play nice" kids.

Finding Jesus in Unlikely Places (Messing With Our Theology)

In the last few years, I have found my theology changing and growing, in large measure because I have had to face the fact that what I had been taught by the church didn't measure up to it's advertised reality.

To misappropriate a quote from the end of A Knight's Tale:

It had been weighed.
It had been measured.
And it had absolutely... been found wanting.

There are people who would now call me a heretic, and that's ok. I have no use for a religion which hurts people, and so my theology has had to change.

That is why it came as no surprise to me today when I suddenly realised that I have met the love of Jesus through one who once said to me, "I tried that religious thing and decided it wasn't for me."

The person in question is the psychologist I started seeing after the hell I went through last year. Somehow she managed to be both very professional and very compassionate. A rare mix.

Now I find it interesting that someone who disclaims any belief in God herself could be so incredibly warm and accepting of mine. I never once felt judged by her for the things I believed. In fact I felt totally accepted and acceptable to her, no matter what I shared with her.

She was inviting, meeting me exactly where I was, and making me feel ok to be there. She validated me without reserve and encouraged me to find a truer version of myself. She listened to my struggles and helped me find the path to my own healing. Very importantly, she was safe.

And in the midst of all that, she was Jesus to me.

She was the Jesus who met the sick and healed them; who met the broken and made them whole; who met the outcast and made them welcome. She helped set this captive free.

If that messes with your theology, I'm sorry. But I have discovered that God is a whole lot bigger than any one person's 'truth'. He does what he sees fit, regardless of what we believe he should do.

And I have a sneaking suspicion that he has a whole lot of fun doing it!

If You Can't Crucify, Why Not Shun?

The one thing about my experience of spiritual abuse that I still struggle to comprehend is the categoric refusal of some people to even acknowledge my existence, let alone sit down and discuss the issues between us.

I don't mean just my ex-friends who were so hell-bent on expunging me from their consciousness, that they resorted to legal action against me. (Luckily for me, the law works on evidence not allegations!)

No, I'm talking about my own brother who's cut off all communication with me; and my fellow elder who kept promising to meet me but then kept finding excuses not to; and the guy at my ex-church who wanted to talk to my husband about me but couldn't bring himself to talk to me.

I'm talking about the board members of my ex-church, and also my ex-boss, all of whom have chosen to ignore my requests to address the legitimate grievances I have shared with them.

I'm talking about the 'leaders' I've recently offered to meet with, to dialogue about our different perspectives, who won't even acknowledge my emails let alone have the courtesy to say, "Thanks, but no thanks".

I could understand one or two people simply lacking the courage to deal with difficult issues, but when you get one after another after another, you start to wonder what is going on. And then you start to realise it's actually a systemic failure as much as an individual one.

Now I suspect that there is a strong unacknowledged streak of patriarchal arrogance at play. I'm just a woman and they are men - God's favoured gender! How dare I not submit to their every dictate!

But I think there is more to it than that.

Then I started thinking about the way the Pharisees ran their religious show. They had all the answers. They had all the power and authority. The had all the people under their control.

And then Jesus came along, and upset their apple cart by asking unscripted questions, and failing to give the correct answers to their own pre-approved questions. He wouldn't play their games and he didn't kow-tow to their self importance. He sided with the weak and the broken and the powerless - all those the Pharisees considered unimportant, expendable. Worst of all, he declaimed their hypocrisy, denounced their self-righteousness, and decried the damage they did to God's people.

Just who did he think he was?

He was jeopardising their rightful rule because they had no come-back to the truth of his words. They were so accustomed to operating in undisputed power that they were unable to answer his challenge to their attitudes and behaviour, or to engage with his call for repentance. They objected to what he said, but they refused to address that with him. All they wanted was to silence this upstart.

They seemed to have no self-awareness and little capacity for self-reflection. They were right and he was wrong - and they were determined to silence him one way or another. If he wouldn't shut up they'd have to do something drastic.

And so... they killed him.

And it has finally occurred to me that this same attitude seems to be alive and well within the institutional church. I have experienced it and I continue to do so - as have (and do) thousands of others.

The attitude that says, "Touch not God's anointed!" The behaviour that refuses to acknowledge and address wrong, but simply shuns the victim instead.

Leaders who bully and abuse. Leaders who use their position for personal gain. Leaders who cover up child abuse in their midst. Leaders who build their own empire and like to play god. They all seem to have the same response to those who threaten to rock their boat.

Pulling off a crucifixion is a bit tricky these days. But it's easy to spread falsehoods. Simple to shun. If you can't kill off the trouble-maker, just pretend they don't exist. If you refuse to see them, and disdain to hear them, that's almost as good... isn't it?

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... 

Misrepresenting Jesus

In the past few weeks, I've been forcefully reminded of all the reasons I walked away from the institutional church, and I've revisited all the reasons why I no longer feel safe attending one.

I've also realised how sickened I am by the use of Jesus's name to stroke egos and build platforms, and to inflict pain and doubt and fear on those who are supposed to be family.

Too many people have been damaged and disillusioned by those who claim to represent Jesus - the one who spoke out against injustice, who defended the powerless, and who himself called out the religious leaders on their misrepresentation of God. So here's what I think:

When you chase after power and fame and numbers, you are not representing Jesus.

When you use the law to intimidate and silence others, you are not representing Jesus.

When you choose to protect your reputation by covering up heinous abuse, you are not representing Jesus.

When you try to control and 'discipline' the innocent while protecting the guilty, you are not representing Jesus.

When you build yourselves mansions in a world where poverty kills, you are not representing Jesus.

When you boast about throwing your brothers and sisters under the bus, you are not representing Jesus.

When you support the abuser and dismiss the abused, you are not representing Jesus.

When you build yourself an empire so you can play sexual power games with young women, you are not representing Jesus.

When you blame the victim instead of supporting them, you are not representing Jesus.

When you use fear and threats to control your brothers and sisters, you are not representing Jesus.

When you tear families apart and shun brothers and sisters, you are not representing Jesus.

When you shrug, offer platitudes and distance yourself from me when I tell you I'm being put through hell again, you are not representing Jesus!

And right now, it feels like Jesus is the very thinnest of threads that I'm holding onto. So I have no time for religion that fails to look anything like him at all!

The Dangers Of Religious Leaders

I came across this article over the weekend which references a recent study whose findings will no doubt ruffle a few religious feathers. The title of the article declares, "Religious children meaner than agnostic and atheist kids, study finds".

The article shares this quote:

“Religion and morality are two different things,” said lead author Jean Decety, a Chicago University neuroscientist.

“Past research has demonstrated that religious people are no more likely to do good than their non-religious counterparts. Our study goes beyond that, showing that religious people are less generous — not only adults, but children, too.”

 Which brought to my mind this quote:

However, the thing that really caught my attention was the concept Mr Decety referred to as "moral licensing":

He attributed the findings to a phenomenon dubbed “moral licensing”, where people’s perceptions that they were doing good — in this case, practising religion — exempted them from the obligation to perform other worthy deeds. “Apparently, doing something that helps strengthen our positive self-image also makes us less worried about the consequences of immoral behaviour,” he said. [Emphasis added]

Now, he was talking about religious people generally, but I immediately thought about the unbelievably abusive and 'immoral' behaviour of some 'church leaders' and wondered if this author could be onto something. Because I have never been able to comprehend how someone who claims to be one of God's children, could act with such callous disregard for the feelings of others. How some 'church leaders' can see the pain and distress they cause to another human being and simply shrug it off, disclaiming any responsibility for that trauma? What is it that gives them such a capacity to look upon the suffering they've caused and feel not one jot of compassion? Why do they seem so incapable of feeling the smallest twinge of empathy?

But if what he is saying holds true, then the one who is super-strengthened in their self-image by being 'The Man of God', might readily feel far less worried about behaving immorally - or even in complete contradiction to the teachings of Jesus himself! It would certainly go a long way to explaining why so many religious leaders act as if they believe they are a law unto themselves.

Is it possible that being a religious leader (especially if you have had to climb over others to get that status) brings with it the danger of falling into such a delusional state that any behaviour can be justified in your own mind simply because you see yourself as morally superior to anyone else, convinced that your cause is God's own!? 

That's an incredibly scary thought, and yet there is ample evidence of religious leaders seeming to do exactly that: throwing people under the bus, punishing people by dragging them through the courts, creating such division in families that relationships are permanently destroyed! The list is not only endless, but it's absolutely gut-wrenching! And yet so many who have behaved in such ways not only show no remorse or regret, but angrily defend their behaviour to anyone brave enough to question them.

Maybe that's why Jesus warned that none of us should be called 'leader'. He knew all too well the propensity of some to 'lord it over' their brothers and sisters. I think he knew the very real dangers we face the moment we start to believe our own advertising and step into that place where we see ourselves as being in some way superior to other human beings.

There's Something Terribly Wrong With Our 'Christian' Culture

A few years ago, as a church leader, I experienced bullying and spiritual abuse when one man wanted to 'lord it over' his peers. When the oversight board was called in to help mediate, those men simply took the side of the bully. After experiencing further abuse and an incredible miscarriage of justice, I ended up resigning from leadership and later leaving the institution.

Just a few weeks ago, as an office manager, I needed to deal with a situation where one staff member had been trying to 'lord it over' her peer. When the boss was called in to help effect justice, he simply took the side of the bully. After the victim was further traumatised, and she and I were treated with nothing but injustice, I ended up with no choice but to resign from my job.

Two separate situations - one a church and one a workplace. So what did they have in common? Well, both times pernicious behaviour was ignored; both times justice and integrity were lacking; and both times the events occurred in places which prided themselves on being 'christian' organisations!

Screen shot from The Princess Bride

But to misquote Inigo Montoya, "They keep using that word 'christian'. I do not think it means what they think it means!"

According to the online Oxford Dictionary the word christian, used as an adjective, means:

• relating to or professing Christianity or its teachings: or
• having qualities associated with Christians, especially those of decency, kindness, and fairness.

Now, there was precious little "decency, kindness, and fairness" on display in either of those situations. So I'm left with the question, "Does christian culture relate to demeaning and damaging others, and does it teach us to bully and abuse others?"

Whether you've encountered this reality personally or not, even a cursory glance online or through social media would certainly seem to indicate an affirmative answer is in order. There we find 'pastors' abusing people as well as their assumed positions of 'power'; churches ignoring or defending this behaviour; victims being blamed and shunned; countless blogs detailing injustices perpetrated by 'christian leaders'; and online 'christians' berating and belittling those whose beliefs differ from their own.

We have created a culture so toxic and so harmful that multitudes walk away from it each day - battered and bloodied - and yet we don't even blink an eyelid! We keep smiling and justifying our behaviour and telling ourselves how evil our victims must be. And we do it all in the name of our god!

Where did we get the idea that we are representing Jesus by beating up our brothers and sisters? Who in their right mind would think that treating others with contempt and injustice is a godly display? When will we open our eyes and realise that something is terribly wrong with us?

Why does 'christian' culture seem to create so much pain and hurt when its purported intention is to foster a community of Christ-followers who are known primarily for their love? If we are truly disciples of Jesus, why do we look (and act) so unlike him? 

I've said it before and I'll continue to say it - we've got something seriously wrong guys!

Worse still, our failure to love even our fellow believers (let alone our 'enemies') serves as a warning to those outside the family of God that our religion is dangerous - that instead of creating communities of love, compassion and justice, we generate a culture of anger, arrogance and abuse.

And it is true far too often. We are dangerous. Our culture is toxic. And we totally misrepresent the one whose name we bear!

Hurting Others With The Hurt We Have Received!?

One of the things I am really struggling to comprehend right now is how someone who has suffered at the hands of a 'christian leader' can then turn around and treat a fellow believer exactly the same way. It's a bit like a variation on the parable of the unforgiving servant found in Matthew 18. In that story the servant who had been forgiven a huge debt by the king, refused to have mercy on a fellow servant who owed him a pittance in comparison.

In the story I've just encountered, a person who knew the pain and anguish of being treated badly by a 'king,' systematically subjected a peer to a campaign of such intimidating behaviour, that the victim's physical and emotional health broke down. Yet even when that person was made aware of the suffering they had inflicted on another soul, they refused to admit that they'd done anything wrong.

Now, unthinkable as it is, I've become accustomed to hearing about (and experiencing) christians in positions of power treating their brothers and sisters like dirt. But I just cannot fathom how someone who knows how devastating that behaviour is, could deliberately dish it out to others with an apparently clear conscience.

Maybe I'm naive, or maybe just plain weird, but I'd rather chew off my right arm than inflict on another soul the distress and devastation that I was subjected to. I thought that would have been a fairly normal response under those circumstances. But apparently I was wrong.

Apparently there are those who have no problem passing on the pain to others - despite constant protestations of their love for Jesus. I simply cannot wrap my head around that!

Is the lust for power and control so overwhelming that they would willingly sell their soul for it? Does the desire to manipulate people and circumstances simply subvert natural human decency? Can they be so driven to 'lord it over' others that they wilfully inflict pain on anyone who refuses to bow the knee to them? I won't even pretend to understand what goes on in the hearts and minds of those who could behave this way. I just don't get it!

But irrespective of the pain you've suffered in the past, I would suggest that when someone lets you know that your behaviour is hurting or even harming them, a normal person would stop and listen. Anyone with even a modicum of compassion and empathy would apologise and change their behaviour. You don't even have to be 'christian' to respond this way - it's just simple human decency.

Either way, it seems to me that if a person can inflict pain on others, and neither know nor care, there is something seriously wrong!

Life After 'Church' Abuse

He leads me beside still waters...

It occurred to me this morning that Monday this week was the third anniversary of my resignation from 'church leadership'. The night before, I'd attended what turned out to be my last-ever elders' meeting. At that meeting I was told that my choice was, in effect, to submit to abuse or resign. Although I went to bed that night, I just couldn't sleep. And so, in the early hours of the morning, I got out of bed and emailed these words:

"When I originally stood for eldership it was out of obedience to the Father. I believed He had called me to bring who I was and what I do to the table to bless and serve [ex-church]. I also believed that we were elected as a team, accountable to each other and to the body; that we all had unique gifts and callings which were valued by each elder and that together we became so much more than just the sum of our parts. Over recent months I have increasingly felt that what I bring is no longer received or valued, and that trust and accountability has been lost. 

In the midst of this, I have never been more confident of the Father's call on my life. As I shared at the board meeting, God has been confirming again and again who I am and what He has created me to be and do. I know what He has laid on my heart and have seen good fruit come from my engagement in that. My validation comes from the Father and not from holding a position or title so, as I now believe I have the Father's release to do so, I am tendering my resignation from the eldership of [ex-church]. I remain committed to Kingdom relationship."

At the time, I genuinely believed that if I did what they wanted, then things could be worked out. Maybe by stepping aside people would feel less threatened by what I was saying. But the questions I'd raised could not be un-asked, so it seems that in their eyes I was the threat.

I learned the hard way that there is no room for the Kingdom where the mentality of empire-building (and king-making) has taken hold.

And as they say... the rest is history...

So why am I sharing this? Because (as I've said before) my experience is not unique. While the details may vary, the basics of my story get repeated every day - played out in churches of all types all around the world. And real people suffer real heartbreak - damaged by the very ones who'd promised them love and healing.

And to all those who are still living the nightmare, still doubting that they'll ever feel whole (or smile) again, I want to speak hope.

When I wrote that letter three years ago, I was too traumatised by all that had come before to be able to see clearly, and I had no idea what would happen or where I'd end up. I certainly had no inkling that it was actually a step towards a new life of freedom and wholeness.

And yet, reading it again after all this time, I see clearly that I was already on the journey. That I was already being guided towards the freedom and abundant life that Jesus promised - but which had always seemed to allude me.

It all felt too much like defeat and loss and betrayal, so I had no idea then how free and alive and whole I would come to feel! Yes, it took time. Yes, it got worse before it got better. Yes, I'm still journeying. But, these days I know a peace and rest within myself that I wouldn't exchange for the world.

At the time I thought I'd lost the things that represented the pinnacle of my faith life, but in reality all I had lost was a load of man-made 'religious' rubbish. I finally 'get' what Paul was talking about when he said, "everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him." Philippians 3

I lost a 'title', but Jesus had told us not to take them for ourselves. I lost a 'ministry', but ministry can, and does, happen wherever and whenever I find myself engaging with others. I lost 'relationships', but it seems they had been based on my performance and compliance to other people's agendas. I lost 'love', but it had only been conditional, so it wasn't real in the first place.

None of the things I 'lost' were of any value after all. In fact, they'd been as unwholesome as garbage, as noxious as sewage.

What I have discovered and embraced since then has been priceless. Because I've found Life* - free, abundant, joyful.

So if you've just been 'thrown under the bus', or if you've been on the journey of healing for a while and some days despair of ever being truly free, please hang in there. It won't always be like this. There is hope. You can make it.

Because however long and hard the journey might be, there really is Life after 'church' abuse.

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...

Why I Haven't "Given up on the Church"

This morning, I read an article entitled Why You Shouldn’t Give up on the Church.

The author is the son of a 'famous' christian. I am a 'nobody' in that particular world.

He thinks "church is messy by nature." I have found it not messy, but dangerous.

He says, "it’s where Jesus’ people are connected." I find I can connect with Jesus's people wherever I meet them.

He opines that, "To leave the Church is to hurt yourself and to hurt others." I left because it was the only way to stop the hurt.

His judgement: "leaving the Church... is escapism." My experience: leaving the institution was the only way to escape the abuse.

His words seem to equate 'church' with a building or institution. My understanding of the word 'church' is that it's a living body.

He talks of "doing church." I speak of being the church.

He concludes, "No matter your frustrations and hurts, it cannot be abandoned. You need it now whether you know it or not, and someday you will have a need nothing and no one else can meet. And the Church will be where Jesus shows Himself to you."

My response to him?

I rejoice in your experience, but it is not universal. Please don't present it as an incontrovertible reality. That hurts.

I not only can, but I have abandoned what you seem to call 'church'.

But I have not "given up on the church", which is the body of Christ. I have given up on an institution.

I do not "need it". I need to feel safe when I meet with my brothers and sisters.

'The church' is not my sufficiency. Jesus Christ is.

And he can show himself to me wherever and whenever he chooses.

So please don't put him (or me) in a box. I love him too, you know.

The Lost Sheep: Running for His Life

By David Ryser at Catch the Wind

I was hanging out with Cliff, a former student of mine who ministers powerfully in the country of Uganda. He was regaling me with tales of his adventures while preaching and demonstrating the Kingdom of God in a culture quite different from our own. He noted that the culture in Uganda is similar in many ways to the culture in which Jesus ministered during His time on earth. As a result of Cliff’s exposure to this culture, the preaching, teaching, and parables of Jesus have been cast in a fresh light for him. As an example, he cited the Parable of the Lost Sheep recorded in Luke 15:3-6.

As we talked about it, I realized this may be one of the most preached--and least understood--of Jesus’ parables.

Part of our difficulty interpreting this parable comes from our misunderstanding of the context in which Jesus spoke it. Who was Jesus talking to, and what was going on at the time? We must interpret what He said in light of the situation that prompted Him to speak. Luke 15:1, 2 tells us that Jesus was speaking to the Pharisees and scribes because they were criticizing His ministry over the fact that the spiritual riff-raff (tax collectors and sinners) were being drawn to Him in order to hear Him.

This parable had one important thing in common with the rest of Jesus’ ministry of preaching and teaching: He spoke to the people who were there (Luke 15:3). I have searched the Gospels and have discovered that Jesus never preached to people who were not present. He never preached to, or even about, the Romans or Greeks, for example. If our preaching follows the pattern of Jesus, we will preach to the people in front of us.

This may seem self-evident to us until we realize that a great deal of the preaching in our churches is directed at people who are not there (unless your church is filled with homosexuals, abortionists, politicians, and other assorted miscreants whom we blame for all of the world’s problems).

So what did Jesus have to say to the religious people who were offended that the “bad people” were coming to Him and entering into the Kingdom of God?

First, Jesus established the worth of the people whom the Pharisees and scribes considered to be worthless (Luke 15:4a). He tells of a man who has 100 sheep, and one of the sheep has wandered off. Why is this such a big deal? The man still has 99 sheep left.

So why all the fuss over one sheep?

It may help to know that in Jesus’ day, a man was considered rich and successful if he had 100 sheep. Any less, even 99, placed the man in a lower class of wealth and achievement in the eyes of the community. So the one sheep is of great value relative to the rest of the flock because without him the total value of the flock is significantly diminished. Jesus’ first lesson to the Pharisees and scribes: These people you consider to be worthless have great value both to God and to you.

Second, Jesus notes where the flock is when the lost sheep wanders off. And He does this in a way that gets their attention by saying, “What man of you…does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness…?” (Luke 15:4). In fact, no one would leave 99 sheep in the wilderness. The wilderness--by definition--is a place without food, without water, and full of predators. And what are these sheep doing in the wilderness in the first place?

No shepherd in his right mind would take sheep into the wilderness to feed and water them; rather, he would seek out a lush pasture and an ample water supply for them.

So why were the 100 sheep in the wilderness? For the same reason that the Pharisees and scribes were wasting away in their religion rather than feasting and drinking from the life and presence of God available in Jesus (John 6:48-58, among many others).

But not everyone is content to suffer spiritual hunger and thirst with the rest of the religious crowd.

Third, so now we know why the one sheep had wandered off. He was hungry, he was thirsty, and his situation was not getting any better by hungering and thirsting along with the other 99 sheep. He had gone to search for food and water.

He was running for his life! Continue reading here...

The Church Sucks at Reaching the Lost

By Travis Klassen

I write this one with years of experience as an outcast, a rebel, a truth-teller, pot-stirrer or whatever else you’d like to call me. This blog was previously called “Churchburned.com” for a reason.

It’s usually right here, in the first or second paragraph of one of my provocatively-titled articles, that most good, church-going Christians will tune out the rest, skipping to the comment section to defend their local church. They will feel compelled to explain how amazing their church is and how it is completely unlike the churches I’ve described. So go ahead my friends, skip ahead; I’ll meet you down there. Read more...

I Want to be a Clone!

I'd gone through so much other stuff
That walking down the aisle was tough
But now I know it's not enough
I want to be a clone

I asked the Lord into my heart
They said that was the way to start
But now you've got to play the part
I want to be a clone

Be a clone and kiss conviction goodnight
Cloneliness is next to Godliness, right?
I'm grateful that they show the way
'Cause I could never know the way
To serve him on my own
I want to be a clone

They told me that I'd fall away
Unless I followed what they say
Who needs the Bible anyway?
I want to be a clone

Their language it was new to me
But Christianese got through to me
Now I can speak it fluently
I want to be a clone

Be a clone and kiss conviction goodnight
Cloneliness is next to Godliness, right?
I'm grateful that they show the way
'Cause I could never know the way
To serve him on my own
I want to be a clone

Send in the clones

Ah, I kind of wanted to tell my friends and people about it, you know?

What?
You're still a babe
You have to grow
Give it twenty years or so
'Cause if you want to be one of his
Got to act like one of us

Be a clone and kiss conviction goodnight
Cloneliness is next to Godliness, right?
I'm grateful that they show the way
'Cause I could never know the way
To serve him on my own
I want to be a clone

So now I see the whole design
My church is an assembly line
The parts are there, I'm feeling fine
I want to be a clone

I've learned enough to stay afloat
But not so much I rock the boat
I'm glad they shoved it down my throat
I want to be a clone

Everybody must get cloned

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?