I distinctly remember one talk I heard where the speaker's main argument was that God does NOT love you as you are. If he did, the speaker argued, then he wouldn't be trying to change you.
This had the effect of making me feel hopeless and disappointed with myself. If I wasn't changing to becoming better, then God clearly didn't love me.
I was taught from a very young age that I am broken, sinful, and that nothing I do is righteous. I was taught my own worthlessness, helplessness, and moral deficiency. I was taught that nothing I could do would ever earn God's favor or love.
This one had a HUGE effect on me which remained for years. It taught me to hate myself for who I was, for who God created me to be. It taught me that everything I did was worthless and evil. It taught me that no matter what I did, I would still be an evil, depraved person. It taught me that I could not trust my thoughts or my emotions, and therefore it destroyed any shred of confidence I had in myself or my self-worth.
I was taught that if I wasn't reading my Bible and praying every day, then my spiritual life was dead.
This had the effect of making me feel guilty for years when I wasn't doing either of those things. I assumed I was a worse Christian than everyone else because of my inability to establish these habits.
I was taught that if I didn't get baptized, I was sinning.
Again, this also caused me to feel guilty, and inferior to everyone who had been baptized--which was nearly everyone in my midst growing up, because I grew up in a Baptist church and a Baptist high school.
I was never informed of God's unconditional love; that was something that I had to learn about on my own. His love was always conditional.
I had no guarantee of God's love. I had no anchor. For me, God's love teetered on whether or not I did what was right and what he wanted me to do.
I was told that if I wasn't plugged into a church in college, then my faith would die.
Fortunately, I saw through this bullshit. If I didn't however, I'm sure I would be hating myself right now for apparently giving up on my faith.
I was taught that God loves you less when you sin, and his love for you is conditional on your asking for forgiveness.
Thus, I was taken by surprise when I opened up to my youth pastor about something I was struggling with, and he responded by saying "God doesn't love you any less." I didn't believe him when he said that. I thought I was worthless in God's eyes because I hadn't asked for forgiveness.
The danger of spiritual abuse is that it is often not seen as abuse. A victim who voices that they have been spiritually abused might be labeled as having a bad attitude, being unrepentant in spirit, or being rebellious against authority; all of these continue to shift the blame back on the victim. Additionally, it is an especially painful form of abuse because for people like me, faith is extremely important, and we consider it an indispensable part of ourselves. So when this indispensable part of our beings constantly reminds us of how awful and wretched we are, we internalize it and it destroys us.
So what is the lesson here? We need to be very careful about the things we say to other Christians, especially at a young age. We need to truly know and understand people so well that we know whether something we say will send them into a spiral of shame and self-loathing.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Christians are so funny: The Series; Part III - Prayer Dressing
"Before we begin, let's pray."
"Let me pray for us really quick, and then we can get out of here."
Prayer is Christian culture's bread and butter. It happens at pretty predictable moments--most commonly before an event starts or when an event ends. And before meals, of course. It is a staple of many large Christian gatherings. I suspect that this might actually do more harm than good.
I was talking with a really close friend of mine, and we shared about what was going on in our lives. After we shared, he said, "I feel like we should pray. Do you want to pray?" And my response was, "No, because I wouldn't be in it at all." He said he felt the same way. But he felt some kind of an obligation to pray, even though it would have been an entirely forced and probably inauthentic prayer. This is similar to what I'm talking about--why do we feel a pressing need to ritualistically pray, even if we're not going to actually mean it or engage with it?
I think that praying just because "you should" or because "you're supposed to" trivializes the practice of prayer. Notice the quotations that began this post; they seem to imply that a beginning or closing prayer is a hurdle that must be leaped over before we can continue with our lives. It views prayer as an obstacle that must be overcome, rather than as an opportunity to deepen one's relationship with God the Father.
This is why I don't pray before meals. I realized my first day away from home in my college dorm that praying before meals has no significance for me; I only say words because it's something that I'm "supposed" to do. I realized that it's extremely hard for me to care about what I'm saying if I am doing it out of compulsion rather than out of sincere desire. So I stopped praying before meals. Which makes it really uncomfortable for me when I'm asked to do so at my fraternity dinner table or in fraternity meetings.
I don't want prayer to be used just as a dressing to cover certain Christian gatherings--I think it needs to be treated as something more than that. It's kinda lame to just blow off a hangout session with God like that.
"Let me pray for us really quick, and then we can get out of here."
Prayer is Christian culture's bread and butter. It happens at pretty predictable moments--most commonly before an event starts or when an event ends. And before meals, of course. It is a staple of many large Christian gatherings. I suspect that this might actually do more harm than good.
I was talking with a really close friend of mine, and we shared about what was going on in our lives. After we shared, he said, "I feel like we should pray. Do you want to pray?" And my response was, "No, because I wouldn't be in it at all." He said he felt the same way. But he felt some kind of an obligation to pray, even though it would have been an entirely forced and probably inauthentic prayer. This is similar to what I'm talking about--why do we feel a pressing need to ritualistically pray, even if we're not going to actually mean it or engage with it?
I think that praying just because "you should" or because "you're supposed to" trivializes the practice of prayer. Notice the quotations that began this post; they seem to imply that a beginning or closing prayer is a hurdle that must be leaped over before we can continue with our lives. It views prayer as an obstacle that must be overcome, rather than as an opportunity to deepen one's relationship with God the Father.
This is why I don't pray before meals. I realized my first day away from home in my college dorm that praying before meals has no significance for me; I only say words because it's something that I'm "supposed" to do. I realized that it's extremely hard for me to care about what I'm saying if I am doing it out of compulsion rather than out of sincere desire. So I stopped praying before meals. Which makes it really uncomfortable for me when I'm asked to do so at my fraternity dinner table or in fraternity meetings.
I don't want prayer to be used just as a dressing to cover certain Christian gatherings--I think it needs to be treated as something more than that. It's kinda lame to just blow off a hangout session with God like that.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
The lies of faith-based self-deprecation
I'm having a hard time forgiving a lot of my upbringing in the conservative church, especially the part that continually told me that I am a broken sinner, that my mind and heart are totally depraved, and that I can do nothing good on my own. Whenever I remember these things that I was told for so many years, I can't help but think that perhaps these things fueled--or even created--my extremely negative and self-deprecating view I had of myself up until about a year ago.
It's very dangerous to tie the idea of total depravity into faith. I'm not saying that it is necessarily wrong to do so, but one has to be extremely careful with it. For me, I think a reason I subscribed to a self-deprecating view of myself for so long was because I had been told it was an integral part of my faith. I was told you can't truly understand the gospel until you first recognize that you are inherently broken and sinful, and you can do nothing good on your own. Because my faith was so critical to who I was, I perhaps accepted the negative view of myself as something necessary in order for me to call myself a Christian.
To be fair, I can't blame this entirely on my evangelical background. My brain chemistry is (or was) such that I will latch onto negatives and exaggerate them. But I think that that aspect of me combined with what I was being told is what helped keep me in that self-loathing state.
When I came to college, I began to hear slightly different things from the church. Subtle nuances which I had never heard before. At the end of each week of my college fellowship, the benediction was always something like, "Know that I love you, we as a community love you, and most importantly, God loves you." So the meeting ended with a reminder of your value and worth to the speaker, to the community, and to God.
I also heard a new interpretation of the command "Love your neighbor as yourself." I learned that that passage does not mean pour yourself out until you have no more room to care for yourself; rather, it has an underlying assumption that you love yourself. And you are actually inhibited from loving others fully if you don't love yourself.
The truth is that I do have value. God has gifted me with a brilliant mind, able to comprehend portions of his creation and design for the world. He uniquely crafted my individual personality. Obviously, my mind is not totally depraved, and I am not totally broken. And so I believe to say that people are completely broken, have totally depraved minds, and are incapable of doing anything good, is to insult God's creation.
Growing up, I was told that only God is good, and people are evil. But guess who made people? God did. Therefore, people must be at least partially good. Sure, people easily can (and do) become corrupted, but man is made in the image of God. Everyone has some good in them.
Of course, I'm not saying that we should never tell anyone that they are broken or sinful. But I think we need to be careful whose heads we drill that message into. There are some people who may have an arrogance issue and will need to hear that to prevent their self-aggrandizement from blooming too much. But there are others of us who have issues of accepting our inherent worth, and that message may not be a constructive thing for us to hear. This is why we need real relationship to happen--we need to truly and intimately know each other as members of this community called Jesus-followers.
It's very dangerous to tie the idea of total depravity into faith. I'm not saying that it is necessarily wrong to do so, but one has to be extremely careful with it. For me, I think a reason I subscribed to a self-deprecating view of myself for so long was because I had been told it was an integral part of my faith. I was told you can't truly understand the gospel until you first recognize that you are inherently broken and sinful, and you can do nothing good on your own. Because my faith was so critical to who I was, I perhaps accepted the negative view of myself as something necessary in order for me to call myself a Christian.
To be fair, I can't blame this entirely on my evangelical background. My brain chemistry is (or was) such that I will latch onto negatives and exaggerate them. But I think that that aspect of me combined with what I was being told is what helped keep me in that self-loathing state.
When I came to college, I began to hear slightly different things from the church. Subtle nuances which I had never heard before. At the end of each week of my college fellowship, the benediction was always something like, "Know that I love you, we as a community love you, and most importantly, God loves you." So the meeting ended with a reminder of your value and worth to the speaker, to the community, and to God.
I also heard a new interpretation of the command "Love your neighbor as yourself." I learned that that passage does not mean pour yourself out until you have no more room to care for yourself; rather, it has an underlying assumption that you love yourself. And you are actually inhibited from loving others fully if you don't love yourself.
The truth is that I do have value. God has gifted me with a brilliant mind, able to comprehend portions of his creation and design for the world. He uniquely crafted my individual personality. Obviously, my mind is not totally depraved, and I am not totally broken. And so I believe to say that people are completely broken, have totally depraved minds, and are incapable of doing anything good, is to insult God's creation.
Growing up, I was told that only God is good, and people are evil. But guess who made people? God did. Therefore, people must be at least partially good. Sure, people easily can (and do) become corrupted, but man is made in the image of God. Everyone has some good in them.
Of course, I'm not saying that we should never tell anyone that they are broken or sinful. But I think we need to be careful whose heads we drill that message into. There are some people who may have an arrogance issue and will need to hear that to prevent their self-aggrandizement from blooming too much. But there are others of us who have issues of accepting our inherent worth, and that message may not be a constructive thing for us to hear. This is why we need real relationship to happen--we need to truly and intimately know each other as members of this community called Jesus-followers.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Spiritual drought
Christians have a phrase to describe times when they don't feel close in their relationship with God. They call it a "spiritual drought."
I'm going through one of those right now. If I were a good Christian, then I should probably be concerned about it and should be striving to correct it, right?
Not necessarily.
Yeah, I'm in a "drought" right now. But I'm not worried about it. In fact, it's probably a good sign. The truth about relationship is that it is hard. And the reality is that there are times when you don't feel close to a person in a relationship. If a relationship were good all the time, then it honestly wouldn't be a real relationship. So when I have a spiritual drought, it's an indicator to me that I have a real relationship with Jesus. And this is just one of those difficult times.
The other thing is that I have had periods like this before. And on a long enough time frame, Jesus pulled me out of it. And our relationship improved from that experience. So I know that this period is not a permanent time, and it does not signify that my relationship with Jesus is worsening and disappearing. In time, I know I'll come back to Jesus and our relationship will be better afterward.
So yeah. "Spiritual droughts": not a bad thing.
I'm going through one of those right now. If I were a good Christian, then I should probably be concerned about it and should be striving to correct it, right?
Not necessarily.
Yeah, I'm in a "drought" right now. But I'm not worried about it. In fact, it's probably a good sign. The truth about relationship is that it is hard. And the reality is that there are times when you don't feel close to a person in a relationship. If a relationship were good all the time, then it honestly wouldn't be a real relationship. So when I have a spiritual drought, it's an indicator to me that I have a real relationship with Jesus. And this is just one of those difficult times.
The other thing is that I have had periods like this before. And on a long enough time frame, Jesus pulled me out of it. And our relationship improved from that experience. So I know that this period is not a permanent time, and it does not signify that my relationship with Jesus is worsening and disappearing. In time, I know I'll come back to Jesus and our relationship will be better afterward.
So yeah. "Spiritual droughts": not a bad thing.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Don't believe me? Here's evidence.
A Facebook friend of mine posted this status today:
"
This is an example of what I was talking about in an earlier post here.
I don't quite understand this status. God's word is treated as a living being, as it is described as "a friend passing through" or "a handyman . . . to fix my spiritual clogs" that "take[s] up its residence within me." If he's talking about the Bible, the Bible itself is not alive. If it were, then it could be added to or changed (but apparently that's heretical). (But what about that Hebrews verse: "The word of God is living and active"?) It really depends on what each speaker means when one says "God's word" and "alive" or "living." What I mean when I say "living" is perhaps different from what the writer of Hebrews meant by "living."
For the record, no, the Bible is not living, from a biological standpoint. It is inanimate.
But maybe the guy who posted this status means Jesus when he says "God's word." Perhaps that could explain why he describes God's word in such a way to depict it as living and breathing. But if he means Jesus, then what the hell does this mean: "What a blessing to be able to secure Jesus within my mind and heart..." etc. etc.
In closing, I don't understand the Facebook post. I think it's just common Christianese disguised by fancier words and and atypical sentence structures. And Christianese has no meaning to me anymore.
"
This is an example of what I was talking about in an earlier post here.
I don't quite understand this status. God's word is treated as a living being, as it is described as "a friend passing through" or "a handyman . . . to fix my spiritual clogs" that "take[s] up its residence within me." If he's talking about the Bible, the Bible itself is not alive. If it were, then it could be added to or changed (but apparently that's heretical). (But what about that Hebrews verse: "The word of God is living and active"?) It really depends on what each speaker means when one says "God's word" and "alive" or "living." What I mean when I say "living" is perhaps different from what the writer of Hebrews meant by "living."
For the record, no, the Bible is not living, from a biological standpoint. It is inanimate.
But maybe the guy who posted this status means Jesus when he says "God's word." Perhaps that could explain why he describes God's word in such a way to depict it as living and breathing. But if he means Jesus, then what the hell does this mean: "What a blessing to be able to secure Jesus within my mind and heart..." etc. etc.
In closing, I don't understand the Facebook post. I think it's just common Christianese disguised by fancier words and and atypical sentence structures. And Christianese has no meaning to me anymore.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Loaded questions
I can't tell you how many times in my life I've been asked, "What's God doing in your life right now?" And most of the time, my response is to temporarily panic as I frantically try to come up with something that will satisfactorily answer the question while making me sound like a good Christian. In this context, "good Christian" means that I am aware of what God is doing in my life, that I'm not resisting him and just letting him do his work in me, and that I am having a positive/optimistic attitude about it.
The thing is, that question is not fair. What am I supposed to say when I don't realize or comprehend what God is doing in my life? What am I supposed to say when I know I'm going through a "spiritual drought" and I'm not seeing God work? There's really only one satisfactory way to respond to that question--to have some kind of an answer. If you don't have an answer, then you are thought of as rebelling against God, or something is off in your relationship with him.
A better (but still not great) question would be, "What is the most recent thing God has done in your life?" That question isn't perfect either, because it still places the respondent under great pressure; however, it does not require the respondent to talk about any specific time, which is good.
Here's an even better option: how about we not ask those kinds of loaded questions? How about we let people open up to us about God's work in their lives when they're comfortable doing so? How about if we do ask those questions, we accept "Nothing," "I don't know," or "I don't want to talk about it," as satisfactory answers? Just a thought.
On a similar note, a similar phenomenon happens when there's a communal moment of, "What is the Holy Spirit convicting you about?" And then people frantically try to find things about them that are wrong, unless something readily comes to mind. Gee, that's a really negative way to live--actively searching for your flaws.
The thing is, that question is not fair. What am I supposed to say when I don't realize or comprehend what God is doing in my life? What am I supposed to say when I know I'm going through a "spiritual drought" and I'm not seeing God work? There's really only one satisfactory way to respond to that question--to have some kind of an answer. If you don't have an answer, then you are thought of as rebelling against God, or something is off in your relationship with him.
A better (but still not great) question would be, "What is the most recent thing God has done in your life?" That question isn't perfect either, because it still places the respondent under great pressure; however, it does not require the respondent to talk about any specific time, which is good.
Here's an even better option: how about we not ask those kinds of loaded questions? How about we let people open up to us about God's work in their lives when they're comfortable doing so? How about if we do ask those questions, we accept "Nothing," "I don't know," or "I don't want to talk about it," as satisfactory answers? Just a thought.
On a similar note, a similar phenomenon happens when there's a communal moment of, "What is the Holy Spirit convicting you about?" And then people frantically try to find things about them that are wrong, unless something readily comes to mind. Gee, that's a really negative way to live--actively searching for your flaws.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Christians are funny, but they also piss me off.
I'm mildly incensed by this, so that's why I'm writing about it.
A friend of mine shared a status update from the C.S. Lewis fan page on Facebook. It was a quotation of Lewis'. In response, I jokingly commented, "C.S. Lewis can't post statuses, he's dead! Obviously an impostor."
This friend had another Facebook friend who is older (I Facebook stalked him, he's about 63) who commented on the status after me: "CSLewis was one of the most profound thinkers and lovers of the Gospel and The Lord Jesus Christ. Max, u need to repent of ur ignorance and see the truth in his writings"
This response highlights three major things which I think Christians tend to do a lot of: 1) assuming things about their audience; 2) changing the subject; and 3) giving unsolicited prescriptions.
First, assumptions. This guy (let's call him "John" [not his real name]) assumed that I was not a Christian, and that I did not know who C.S. Lewis was. John assumed that what I commented was out of disrespect for Lewis' quotation. Because of these assumptions, he could not see past his immediate judgments of who I was, and he called me ignorant and unrepentant.
Second, changing the subject. Disregarding my motivations or intentions in posting the comment, the words that I said did not pass any judgment whatsoever on Lewis' quotation. I was not evaluating it, validating it, or discounting it. Despite this fact, John changed the subject to talk about who Lewis was and how I was an unrepentant, ignorant sinner. He twisted what I said to turn it into a preaching moment (although it felt more condemning). I feel like that's something that I hear about Christians a lot--changing the subject to "you need to repent" rather than just being a normal person to have a conversation with.
Third, giving unsolicited prescriptions. I didn't ask for what I "needed" to do. But John saw fit to tell me so anyway. And apparently, I need to repent of my ignorance and see the truth in Lewis' writings. John made a judgment about where I was spiritually, and he claimed that he had the solution to what I needed to do. Sounds exactly like what we're not supposed to do according to Matthew 7--judge others. And rather than engaging me in further conversation and trying to understand where I was coming from, John cut off any opportunity whatsoever for relationship by immediately telling me what was wrong with me and how I needed to change. Because that is clearly how you make disciples of Jesus.
If I wasn't a Christian, and if I had never spoken to John before, would what John said have led me to Jesus? Not a chance. In fact, I would have been driven further away from Christianity. Jesus said "make disciples," not "tell people what's wrong with them and then walk away." Making disciples requires relationship--a big and scary thing. Sorry, but a rude, judgmental Facebook comment's just not gonna do it.
So now we know another way that doesn't work in making disciples of Jesus.
Ahh, catharsis. I feel a bit better now.
(Side note: your argument has a lot less power when you tell me "u need to repent of ur ignorance." And when you don't end your sentences in periods.)
A friend of mine shared a status update from the C.S. Lewis fan page on Facebook. It was a quotation of Lewis'. In response, I jokingly commented, "C.S. Lewis can't post statuses, he's dead! Obviously an impostor."
This friend had another Facebook friend who is older (I Facebook stalked him, he's about 63) who commented on the status after me: "CSLewis was one of the most profound thinkers and lovers of the Gospel and The Lord Jesus Christ. Max, u need to repent of ur ignorance and see the truth in his writings"
This response highlights three major things which I think Christians tend to do a lot of: 1) assuming things about their audience; 2) changing the subject; and 3) giving unsolicited prescriptions.
First, assumptions. This guy (let's call him "John" [not his real name]) assumed that I was not a Christian, and that I did not know who C.S. Lewis was. John assumed that what I commented was out of disrespect for Lewis' quotation. Because of these assumptions, he could not see past his immediate judgments of who I was, and he called me ignorant and unrepentant.
Second, changing the subject. Disregarding my motivations or intentions in posting the comment, the words that I said did not pass any judgment whatsoever on Lewis' quotation. I was not evaluating it, validating it, or discounting it. Despite this fact, John changed the subject to talk about who Lewis was and how I was an unrepentant, ignorant sinner. He twisted what I said to turn it into a preaching moment (although it felt more condemning). I feel like that's something that I hear about Christians a lot--changing the subject to "you need to repent" rather than just being a normal person to have a conversation with.
Third, giving unsolicited prescriptions. I didn't ask for what I "needed" to do. But John saw fit to tell me so anyway. And apparently, I need to repent of my ignorance and see the truth in Lewis' writings. John made a judgment about where I was spiritually, and he claimed that he had the solution to what I needed to do. Sounds exactly like what we're not supposed to do according to Matthew 7--judge others. And rather than engaging me in further conversation and trying to understand where I was coming from, John cut off any opportunity whatsoever for relationship by immediately telling me what was wrong with me and how I needed to change. Because that is clearly how you make disciples of Jesus.
If I wasn't a Christian, and if I had never spoken to John before, would what John said have led me to Jesus? Not a chance. In fact, I would have been driven further away from Christianity. Jesus said "make disciples," not "tell people what's wrong with them and then walk away." Making disciples requires relationship--a big and scary thing. Sorry, but a rude, judgmental Facebook comment's just not gonna do it.
So now we know another way that doesn't work in making disciples of Jesus.
Ahh, catharsis. I feel a bit better now.
(Side note: your argument has a lot less power when you tell me "u need to repent of ur ignorance." And when you don't end your sentences in periods.)
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Christians are so funny: The Series; Part II - Christianese
"Dear Lord, I just thank you so much for this day, and for this opportunity to just have fun, and I pray that we will just do this pep rally for you, and that you will just bless our days afterward. In your name, amen."
I heard a prayer similar to that at my Christian high school before we had a pep rally. Several times. A cheerleader would lead the school in this prayer right after she had just finished dancing somewhat salaciously in a form-fitting, revealing outfit in front of a bunch of high schoolers. (I'm sure none of the guys (or girls) were having lustful thoughts, and none of the girls felt insecure watching the cheerleaders. Because that never happens at a Christian high school.) This type of prayer showcases the absurdity of Christian dialect, or Christianese.
First, there's the sheer number of times people say the word "just" while praying out loud. In no other context would saying "just" so many times be appropriate. But for some reason, when Christians pray, it's okay to beg God and to expect very little of him. Saying "just" in a prayer communicates, "God, if you could please do just this one thing, then everything would be better." It minimizes and trivializes what the one praying is asking of God.
Second, there's the phrase "for you," in reference to God. What the hell does it mean to do something "for God?" How can you have a pep rally be "for God?" Seriously, what does that even mean? I don't understand!
Similar to the "for God" is the common practice of dedicating something to God. I don't know what that means either. Does it mean you continually pray to him while the activity is occurring? Or do you do the activity to glorify him?
Except now I don't even know what that means either. Third example: doing something "for God's glory" or "to glorify God." I twitch whenever I hear that phrase, because I bet the person saying it has no idea what they mean by that--they're just saying it because it's common jargon in Christian culture. I certainly have no idea what it means--that's why I don't say it!
So here's my two cents: let's actually communicate with each other. Not just toss around colloquialisms with little to no meaning. Let's be specific and concrete about what we actually are trying to say about God and about our experiences with God. Let's be real.
I heard a prayer similar to that at my Christian high school before we had a pep rally. Several times. A cheerleader would lead the school in this prayer right after she had just finished dancing somewhat salaciously in a form-fitting, revealing outfit in front of a bunch of high schoolers. (I'm sure none of the guys (or girls) were having lustful thoughts, and none of the girls felt insecure watching the cheerleaders. Because that never happens at a Christian high school.) This type of prayer showcases the absurdity of Christian dialect, or Christianese.
First, there's the sheer number of times people say the word "just" while praying out loud. In no other context would saying "just" so many times be appropriate. But for some reason, when Christians pray, it's okay to beg God and to expect very little of him. Saying "just" in a prayer communicates, "God, if you could please do just this one thing, then everything would be better." It minimizes and trivializes what the one praying is asking of God.
Second, there's the phrase "for you," in reference to God. What the hell does it mean to do something "for God?" How can you have a pep rally be "for God?" Seriously, what does that even mean? I don't understand!
Similar to the "for God" is the common practice of dedicating something to God. I don't know what that means either. Does it mean you continually pray to him while the activity is occurring? Or do you do the activity to glorify him?
Except now I don't even know what that means either. Third example: doing something "for God's glory" or "to glorify God." I twitch whenever I hear that phrase, because I bet the person saying it has no idea what they mean by that--they're just saying it because it's common jargon in Christian culture. I certainly have no idea what it means--that's why I don't say it!
So here's my two cents: let's actually communicate with each other. Not just toss around colloquialisms with little to no meaning. Let's be specific and concrete about what we actually are trying to say about God and about our experiences with God. Let's be real.
Monday, September 2, 2013
What if the Trinity isn't a thing?
When I asked myself that question, the first thing I thought of was something I remember learning in American History in high school. I remember that during the time of the colonies, several colonists were exiled from their colonies of origin because they denied the existence of the Trinity. They probably went to the colony of Rhode Island to do more heretical things with Anne Hutchinson.
Needless to say, most Protestants consider belief in the Trinity to be a pretty important thing.
But the funny thing is that nowhere in Scripture is the concept of the Trinity mentioned. I easily see how the idea is constructed by logical inference; (1) Jesus claims to be equal with God the Father, and (2) Jesus says he will send his spirit, which is the Holy Spirit. This implies that Jesus is equivalent to God the Father and to the Holy Spirit. We can infer, therefore, that the Holy Spirit is also equivalent to God the Father, although no such direct claim exists that I am aware of. Thus, even though the Trinity is never explicitly mentioned, we can easily see how the idea of it is constructed.
However, the Trinity is a limiting idea. It defines God as three and only three separate but equal beings, or something like that. But what if there are more beings that are part of this unity that are simply not mentioned or alluded to in Scripture? What about the possibility of a Quadinity, Quintinity, or a Hexinity? Or maybe God is comprised of an infinite number of separate but equal beings! We don't know!
It's fun to see how much we actually don't know about God.
Needless to say, most Protestants consider belief in the Trinity to be a pretty important thing.
But the funny thing is that nowhere in Scripture is the concept of the Trinity mentioned. I easily see how the idea is constructed by logical inference; (1) Jesus claims to be equal with God the Father, and (2) Jesus says he will send his spirit, which is the Holy Spirit. This implies that Jesus is equivalent to God the Father and to the Holy Spirit. We can infer, therefore, that the Holy Spirit is also equivalent to God the Father, although no such direct claim exists that I am aware of. Thus, even though the Trinity is never explicitly mentioned, we can easily see how the idea of it is constructed.
However, the Trinity is a limiting idea. It defines God as three and only three separate but equal beings, or something like that. But what if there are more beings that are part of this unity that are simply not mentioned or alluded to in Scripture? What about the possibility of a Quadinity, Quintinity, or a Hexinity? Or maybe God is comprised of an infinite number of separate but equal beings! We don't know!
It's fun to see how much we actually don't know about God.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Christians are so funny: The Series; Part I - Bowing Heads
One of the funniest sights for me to see happens in large Christian gatherings. It's when the guy at the front--be it a pastor, another speaker, or the worship leader--says the two words, "let's pray." Whether or not he also includes "let's bow our heads" in that commandment, you will always see a great majority of the crowd lean forward. It looks like everyone is staring at their shoes.
It's especially funny in a place like Wheeler Auditorium on UC Berkeley's campus. Every single seat in that room creaks insanely loudly. So not only does it look like everyone begins to study the spilled drank on the floor, but there is this enormous creak. It really is the funniest thing.
Why do we do that? Why is our immediate reflex to prayer that our heads drop? I know I used to do it because I was told for years in Sunday School to bow my head when prayer happened. Even though Sunday School teachers eventually stopped telling me that, it was too late. I had already been conditioned to looking down whenever prayer happened.
So maybe Christians do that because of the Sunday School conditioning. Or maybe those who didn't grow up in Sunday School do it because of peer pressure--all their Sunday-School-based friends were doing it.
I don't know. But in my opinion, it's hilarious to watch.
It's especially funny in a place like Wheeler Auditorium on UC Berkeley's campus. Every single seat in that room creaks insanely loudly. So not only does it look like everyone begins to study the spilled drank on the floor, but there is this enormous creak. It really is the funniest thing.
Why do we do that? Why is our immediate reflex to prayer that our heads drop? I know I used to do it because I was told for years in Sunday School to bow my head when prayer happened. Even though Sunday School teachers eventually stopped telling me that, it was too late. I had already been conditioned to looking down whenever prayer happened.
So maybe Christians do that because of the Sunday School conditioning. Or maybe those who didn't grow up in Sunday School do it because of peer pressure--all their Sunday-School-based friends were doing it.
I don't know. But in my opinion, it's hilarious to watch.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Risky. And somewhat emotion-infused.
Here is yet another reason for me to continue to wish for The Gospel Coalition to be shut down:
http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/thabitianyabwile/2013/08/19/the-importance-of-your-gag-reflex-when-discussing-homosexuality-and-gay-marriage/
I would have my own commentary on the logical fallacies and absolute absurdity of this article, but I have a feeling I would just be echoing a lot of what these two articles say:
http://www.zhoag.com/2013/08/22/gagreflex/
http://theamericanjesus.net/?p=10626
It's comforting to know that there are other people out there who think like I do.
Yes, I realize that this brands me as a crazy liberal.
http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/thabitianyabwile/2013/08/19/the-importance-of-your-gag-reflex-when-discussing-homosexuality-and-gay-marriage/
I would have my own commentary on the logical fallacies and absolute absurdity of this article, but I have a feeling I would just be echoing a lot of what these two articles say:
http://www.zhoag.com/2013/08/22/gagreflex/
http://theamericanjesus.net/?p=10626
It's comforting to know that there are other people out there who think like I do.
Yes, I realize that this brands me as a crazy liberal.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Listening
You don't have to be a sage advice-giver in order to support someone in need. More often than not, listening is the only thing that a person wants. And in those instances, giving advice can even come across as rude and selfish, even though you might have good intentions.
I can speak from personal experience--there have been several times in my life where I have been in the midst of crises, and I go to a person in hopes that they will hear me out and support me. But the listener cuts me off before I am finished and tells me what I should do or why my thinking is flawed.
(Preface: I am going to be using the pronoun "he" where I really should be using "he or she," because it refers to an unspecified person. "He" is just so much shorter and easier.)
The listener might think that that is being helpful, but it isn't. Often, the person knows what he needs to do, and he knows that he's not thinking clearly. He just wants you to meet him where he is and to support him. Let him tell you why he is hurting, and please do your best to try to understand where he is coming from. That will probably involve you asking probing questions, rather than thinking you know his situation and advising him on what to do next. Doing that is likely a dirty and messy process, but who said real relationship was easy?
If he wanted advice, he would ask for it. Or, you can ask him if that is what he is looking for. But don't just give it to him unsolicited. When he asked you to talk, he didn't ask you to "correct" his thinking. (By the way, what gives you the authority to say that you know better? You haven't experienced what he has. That's why it is so important to try to understand where he's coming from.)
As the protagonist in Fight Club says, "When people think you're dying, man, they really really listen to you instead of just waiting for their turn to speak." Is that what it takes for us to truly listen to people? That they have to be dying before we stop looking for opportunities to interject and actually hear them?
In summary, when you're listening to someone, "Shut up and listen." Like Lilly Moscovitz's cable show.
I can speak from personal experience--there have been several times in my life where I have been in the midst of crises, and I go to a person in hopes that they will hear me out and support me. But the listener cuts me off before I am finished and tells me what I should do or why my thinking is flawed.
(Preface: I am going to be using the pronoun "he" where I really should be using "he or she," because it refers to an unspecified person. "He" is just so much shorter and easier.)
The listener might think that that is being helpful, but it isn't. Often, the person knows what he needs to do, and he knows that he's not thinking clearly. He just wants you to meet him where he is and to support him. Let him tell you why he is hurting, and please do your best to try to understand where he is coming from. That will probably involve you asking probing questions, rather than thinking you know his situation and advising him on what to do next. Doing that is likely a dirty and messy process, but who said real relationship was easy?
If he wanted advice, he would ask for it. Or, you can ask him if that is what he is looking for. But don't just give it to him unsolicited. When he asked you to talk, he didn't ask you to "correct" his thinking. (By the way, what gives you the authority to say that you know better? You haven't experienced what he has. That's why it is so important to try to understand where he's coming from.)
As the protagonist in Fight Club says, "When people think you're dying, man, they really really listen to you instead of just waiting for their turn to speak." Is that what it takes for us to truly listen to people? That they have to be dying before we stop looking for opportunities to interject and actually hear them?
In summary, when you're listening to someone, "Shut up and listen." Like Lilly Moscovitz's cable show.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Mommy, look, somebody left this toy tractor here!
Put that down, Billy; that has germs on it!
I've realized that I'm not as assertive as I used to be.
"Used to be" is a relative phrase, though. If "used to be" is a comparison to any time more than 8 months ago, then I don't think that first sentence applies. But if I compare myself to where I was a couple months ago, then I feel that that shows a step backward in assertiveness.
I realized this when I recently found myself in a situation where I was extremely uncomfortable. Rather than speaking up and leaving as soon as things felt off, I stuck around and didn't say anything. I eventually left after quite a while, but I really should have left much sooner.
So I began to ask myself, why am I not as assertive anymore?
Perhaps my job has contributed to it. Maybe it's me not wanting to bother my supervisor when I can tell she's overloaded, and so I just don't speak up. Maybe it's me being prideful and not asking for help when I need it. Maybe it's me just telling myself that I don't really know what I'm doing, and just assuming that everyone else knows better.
Perhaps recent episodes at CalPerfs has contributed to it. Maybe that one time when that couple yelled at me and refused to do what I asked. Maybe that time when I was managing, even though I was out of practice, so I didn't feel like I completely knew what I was doing.
Perhaps this blog has contributed to it. I know some people are reading it, and I have actually decided not to write posts because I don't want people to know that about me. That goes against the original purpose of this blog--the purpose was for my personal growth. It shouldn't matter who else, if anyone else, is reading it or not. And it certainly shouldn't dictate what I choose to write about.
Or maybe I'm just generally out of practice being assertive. Maybe I've assumed that I am now an assertive person, so I've stopped working at it.
Then again, they say that progress is two steps forward and one backward. Maybe my first two steps happened spring semester, and this summer is my step backward.
So here's my to do list:
Have more opinions/preferences about things.
Don't always defer to the other person. ("I don't know, what do you wanna do?")
Remind myself that you have a right to express what you're feeling and thinking.
You don't have to please other people.
I've realized that I'm not as assertive as I used to be.
"Used to be" is a relative phrase, though. If "used to be" is a comparison to any time more than 8 months ago, then I don't think that first sentence applies. But if I compare myself to where I was a couple months ago, then I feel that that shows a step backward in assertiveness.
I realized this when I recently found myself in a situation where I was extremely uncomfortable. Rather than speaking up and leaving as soon as things felt off, I stuck around and didn't say anything. I eventually left after quite a while, but I really should have left much sooner.
So I began to ask myself, why am I not as assertive anymore?
Perhaps my job has contributed to it. Maybe it's me not wanting to bother my supervisor when I can tell she's overloaded, and so I just don't speak up. Maybe it's me being prideful and not asking for help when I need it. Maybe it's me just telling myself that I don't really know what I'm doing, and just assuming that everyone else knows better.
Perhaps recent episodes at CalPerfs has contributed to it. Maybe that one time when that couple yelled at me and refused to do what I asked. Maybe that time when I was managing, even though I was out of practice, so I didn't feel like I completely knew what I was doing.
Perhaps this blog has contributed to it. I know some people are reading it, and I have actually decided not to write posts because I don't want people to know that about me. That goes against the original purpose of this blog--the purpose was for my personal growth. It shouldn't matter who else, if anyone else, is reading it or not. And it certainly shouldn't dictate what I choose to write about.
Or maybe I'm just generally out of practice being assertive. Maybe I've assumed that I am now an assertive person, so I've stopped working at it.
Then again, they say that progress is two steps forward and one backward. Maybe my first two steps happened spring semester, and this summer is my step backward.
So here's my to do list:
Have more opinions/preferences about things.
Don't always defer to the other person. ("I don't know, what do you wanna do?")
Remind myself that you have a right to express what you're feeling and thinking.
You don't have to please other people.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
I've always hated legalism, part 2
Baptism.
Before I begin, maybe I should preface this by saying that I have been baptized. I was fully immersed in the Baptist denomination fashion in the Jordan River in Israel on June 15, 2008.
I don't really understand the purpose of this practice either. I honestly don't even know where to start explaining what about it I don't understand.
I've heard baptism is a "public declaration of faith," and that's why Christians are supposed to do it. But that reason makes zero sense to me. If I'm correct, Jesus in Scripture tells us not to be overt in doing religious practices. For example, he says when you pray, go into your room and close the door and pray in secret (which is why I have a problem with See You At The Pole gatherings). He says when you give, do not even let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. He says when you fast, anoint yourself with oil, do not pour ashes on yourself, and do not tear your clothes. I think what he's trying to communicate is that what matters about these practices is between you and God. So if baptism is a public declaration of faith, why must we do it? It seems inconsistent with the rest of what Jesus said.
Also, if baptism is a public event, why does it only happen with an audience of the church? If it were really a public event, you would think we would go to street corners with a tub of water and perform the ceremonies there. But we don't. (If we did, I'd have a huge problem with that--see the previous paragraph.)
Perhaps the other description of baptism that I've heard can give more insight: it symbolizes a believer's death to sin and resurrection in Jesus. I find that to be a more satisfactory reason than a public declaration of faith, but I still feel that even that definition doesn't satisfy me. The actual death to sin and life in Christ is what matters, and that's something that only the Holy Spirit can do. A ceremony where you get dunked (or sprinkled), therefore, just seems superfluous to me.
Let's talk more here about sprinkling infants. What does that accomplish? I don't understand the purpose of immersion, so I much less understand the purpose of sprinkling, and much much less the purpose of sprinkling infants. I guess maybe it symbolizes dedication of a baby to God or something, but why show that dedication by pouring water on their heads and making them cry? I really just can't wrap my head around it.
My junior year of high school, my Bible teacher told us that getting baptized is a command (because Peter said in Acts, "Repent and be baptized"). Therefore, he said, if you don't get baptized, you are technically sinning. There were a couple students in the class who argued with him about that claim for twenty minutes or so. I disagreed with him as well, but not vocally. I disagreed because of the verse in 1 John that says something like "No one who lives in him keeps on sinning." So, logically, if not getting baptized is a sin, then continuing not to get baptized is continuing to live in sin. That would indicate that you aren't saved. But then that would make baptism a condition for salvation, which contradicts the idea of a non-works-based salvation.
Another thing I heard from a former youth pastor was that baptism is like a wedding ring; it is a public sign of commitment. Just because you don't wear a wedding ring doesn't make you unmarried; but your spouse won't be very happy. Similarly, if you don't get baptized, that doesn't make you not saved, but Jesus isn't too thrilled about that. That seems silly to me too. The Jesus I know is not a legalist. He will love me just as much unconditionally, whether or not I choose to get dunked in a tub in a church that cost thousands of dollars to install. He will not condemn me; he will not be disappointed in me. So then why does baptism really matter?
So Protestants define baptism as either a public declaration of faith, or as death to sin and life in Christ. But then why did John the Baptist exist? Why did he baptize people in his day? They were not under the New Covenant, so baptism then could not be defined as either of the definitions we have today.
Until baptism makes sense to me, I will not encourage or discourage someone to get baptized. Even if I happen to be the agent through with the Holy Spirit brings someone to knowing Jesus.
Before I begin, maybe I should preface this by saying that I have been baptized. I was fully immersed in the Baptist denomination fashion in the Jordan River in Israel on June 15, 2008.
I don't really understand the purpose of this practice either. I honestly don't even know where to start explaining what about it I don't understand.
I've heard baptism is a "public declaration of faith," and that's why Christians are supposed to do it. But that reason makes zero sense to me. If I'm correct, Jesus in Scripture tells us not to be overt in doing religious practices. For example, he says when you pray, go into your room and close the door and pray in secret (which is why I have a problem with See You At The Pole gatherings). He says when you give, do not even let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. He says when you fast, anoint yourself with oil, do not pour ashes on yourself, and do not tear your clothes. I think what he's trying to communicate is that what matters about these practices is between you and God. So if baptism is a public declaration of faith, why must we do it? It seems inconsistent with the rest of what Jesus said.
Also, if baptism is a public event, why does it only happen with an audience of the church? If it were really a public event, you would think we would go to street corners with a tub of water and perform the ceremonies there. But we don't. (If we did, I'd have a huge problem with that--see the previous paragraph.)
Perhaps the other description of baptism that I've heard can give more insight: it symbolizes a believer's death to sin and resurrection in Jesus. I find that to be a more satisfactory reason than a public declaration of faith, but I still feel that even that definition doesn't satisfy me. The actual death to sin and life in Christ is what matters, and that's something that only the Holy Spirit can do. A ceremony where you get dunked (or sprinkled), therefore, just seems superfluous to me.
Let's talk more here about sprinkling infants. What does that accomplish? I don't understand the purpose of immersion, so I much less understand the purpose of sprinkling, and much much less the purpose of sprinkling infants. I guess maybe it symbolizes dedication of a baby to God or something, but why show that dedication by pouring water on their heads and making them cry? I really just can't wrap my head around it.
My junior year of high school, my Bible teacher told us that getting baptized is a command (because Peter said in Acts, "Repent and be baptized"). Therefore, he said, if you don't get baptized, you are technically sinning. There were a couple students in the class who argued with him about that claim for twenty minutes or so. I disagreed with him as well, but not vocally. I disagreed because of the verse in 1 John that says something like "No one who lives in him keeps on sinning." So, logically, if not getting baptized is a sin, then continuing not to get baptized is continuing to live in sin. That would indicate that you aren't saved. But then that would make baptism a condition for salvation, which contradicts the idea of a non-works-based salvation.
Another thing I heard from a former youth pastor was that baptism is like a wedding ring; it is a public sign of commitment. Just because you don't wear a wedding ring doesn't make you unmarried; but your spouse won't be very happy. Similarly, if you don't get baptized, that doesn't make you not saved, but Jesus isn't too thrilled about that. That seems silly to me too. The Jesus I know is not a legalist. He will love me just as much unconditionally, whether or not I choose to get dunked in a tub in a church that cost thousands of dollars to install. He will not condemn me; he will not be disappointed in me. So then why does baptism really matter?
So Protestants define baptism as either a public declaration of faith, or as death to sin and life in Christ. But then why did John the Baptist exist? Why did he baptize people in his day? They were not under the New Covenant, so baptism then could not be defined as either of the definitions we have today.
Until baptism makes sense to me, I will not encourage or discourage someone to get baptized. Even if I happen to be the agent through with the Holy Spirit brings someone to knowing Jesus.
Monday, July 22, 2013
I'm probably a heretic.
"I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit, and the Bible."
Wait a second...something doesn't sound right about that. But based on the way a lot of Christians treat the Bible, they might as well say that.
Christian culture has a problem with idolizing the Bible. It is often treated as equal to God himself because "it is the word of God."
At what point in the Bible does it say that it is God's words directly?
People will use verses like 2 Timothy 3:16 to answer that question. Unfortunately, that verse is seriously limited. For one thing, depending on the version, it says that all Scripture is God-breathed or inspired by God. That sounds pretty indirect to me. Also, the verse speaks about "all Scripture." When Paul wrote 2 Timothy, he did not have the canonized Bible as we have today. All that the Jews had at the time was the Old Testament. So the phrase "all Scripture" cannot be referring to anything in the New Testament, simply because it had not yet been written. And even if it was in process of being written, it had not yet been decided that these texts would also be Scripture.
When was it decided what would and would not be Scripture? At some early-church powwow in the 400s. But why did they choose what they chose to be Scripture? Also, why does what they decided have to be the end-all and be-all of what the Bible is today? If I was "under the influence" of the Holy Spirit and I wrote a letter to a local church, why would it not be considered Scripture?
That's another thing. Much of the New Testament was not even intended to be "Scripture." Paul wrote letters, for Pete's sake. Personal letters to specific churches addressing specific issues that each church was facing. (Also, this means that Paul did not write any universal commandments. They're more like advice.) I wonder what he would think if he saw his letters being classified as Scripture. Part of me thinks that he would instantly deny it because he's not God, and so he could not produce Scripture--just like the time in Revelation when John started to bow before an angel, and the angel said, "Do not do it! I am only a fellow servant like you!" or something. I have a feeling Paul would have a similar reaction.
Of course, that's not to say that Paul's letters aren't valuable. One can glean wisdom from them about some situations and how to handle them. But I actually think it's wrong to unquestionably say that Paul's letters apply to us today--they were written to specific groups of people for specific reasons.
Also, keep in mind that the texts that we have comprising the Bible were written down by imperfect human hands. Even if the writers were under the influence of the Holy Spirit (an argument I've heard a lot), human language is finite. Additionally, no one language correlates perfectly to another. Thus, some meaning is certainly lost in translations. Our Bibles came from Hebrew/Aramaic/Greek, to Latin, to German, to Ye Olde English, through centuries of evolving English until we get to modern-day American English. There is no possible way that all the meanings made it through--which is why people go to Seminary to study Greek, Hebrew, and Latin. And even then, scholars still debate what is meant by what was written down because they don't completely know.
Countless Christians that I have met say that they use Scripture as ultimate direction and authority in their life. Again, isn't that placing Scripture above Jesus? I would rather develop a relationship with Jesus and have him directly speak into my life, instead of reading about him in a text that may or may not be errant.
I've also heard a lot of Christians say that "The Bible is sufficient," and that God has given us all we need in the Bible. I would contest that statement. The fact that Christians have disputed for centuries about how to interpret several passages speaks to that. If the Bible were sufficient, then those controversial passages would be explicitly clear. In addition, my personal experience is integral to my faith story. In fact, the Bible plays a pretty minor part in my faith story. It is through my experiences that I have seen God most at work and have gotten to know him best.
My view is not popular with Protestants, I know that. In fact, other Christians have declared my faith lesser and invalid because of these beliefs I have. But honestly, as long as I'm trying to follow Jesus and serve others, does it really matter that much?
Wait a second...something doesn't sound right about that. But based on the way a lot of Christians treat the Bible, they might as well say that.
Christian culture has a problem with idolizing the Bible. It is often treated as equal to God himself because "it is the word of God."
At what point in the Bible does it say that it is God's words directly?
People will use verses like 2 Timothy 3:16 to answer that question. Unfortunately, that verse is seriously limited. For one thing, depending on the version, it says that all Scripture is God-breathed or inspired by God. That sounds pretty indirect to me. Also, the verse speaks about "all Scripture." When Paul wrote 2 Timothy, he did not have the canonized Bible as we have today. All that the Jews had at the time was the Old Testament. So the phrase "all Scripture" cannot be referring to anything in the New Testament, simply because it had not yet been written. And even if it was in process of being written, it had not yet been decided that these texts would also be Scripture.
When was it decided what would and would not be Scripture? At some early-church powwow in the 400s. But why did they choose what they chose to be Scripture? Also, why does what they decided have to be the end-all and be-all of what the Bible is today? If I was "under the influence" of the Holy Spirit and I wrote a letter to a local church, why would it not be considered Scripture?
That's another thing. Much of the New Testament was not even intended to be "Scripture." Paul wrote letters, for Pete's sake. Personal letters to specific churches addressing specific issues that each church was facing. (Also, this means that Paul did not write any universal commandments. They're more like advice.) I wonder what he would think if he saw his letters being classified as Scripture. Part of me thinks that he would instantly deny it because he's not God, and so he could not produce Scripture--just like the time in Revelation when John started to bow before an angel, and the angel said, "Do not do it! I am only a fellow servant like you!" or something. I have a feeling Paul would have a similar reaction.
Of course, that's not to say that Paul's letters aren't valuable. One can glean wisdom from them about some situations and how to handle them. But I actually think it's wrong to unquestionably say that Paul's letters apply to us today--they were written to specific groups of people for specific reasons.
Also, keep in mind that the texts that we have comprising the Bible were written down by imperfect human hands. Even if the writers were under the influence of the Holy Spirit (an argument I've heard a lot), human language is finite. Additionally, no one language correlates perfectly to another. Thus, some meaning is certainly lost in translations. Our Bibles came from Hebrew/Aramaic/Greek, to Latin, to German, to Ye Olde English, through centuries of evolving English until we get to modern-day American English. There is no possible way that all the meanings made it through--which is why people go to Seminary to study Greek, Hebrew, and Latin. And even then, scholars still debate what is meant by what was written down because they don't completely know.
Countless Christians that I have met say that they use Scripture as ultimate direction and authority in their life. Again, isn't that placing Scripture above Jesus? I would rather develop a relationship with Jesus and have him directly speak into my life, instead of reading about him in a text that may or may not be errant.
I've also heard a lot of Christians say that "The Bible is sufficient," and that God has given us all we need in the Bible. I would contest that statement. The fact that Christians have disputed for centuries about how to interpret several passages speaks to that. If the Bible were sufficient, then those controversial passages would be explicitly clear. In addition, my personal experience is integral to my faith story. In fact, the Bible plays a pretty minor part in my faith story. It is through my experiences that I have seen God most at work and have gotten to know him best.
My view is not popular with Protestants, I know that. In fact, other Christians have declared my faith lesser and invalid because of these beliefs I have. But honestly, as long as I'm trying to follow Jesus and serve others, does it really matter that much?
Thursday, July 18, 2013
I've always hated legalism
I don't understand the purpose of communion. Or baptism.
To me, communion is a silly ritual where you eat a small piece of bread (or a stale pre-ordered official "communion wafer"; there are magazines where you can order these things) and drink a tiny amount of grape juice (not wine, heaven forbid). Sometimes the pastor or whoever is presiding over it encourages you to "examine your heart" before "taking of the elements"...whatever that means. Communion is usually a very serious, solemn practice. Talking of any sort is taboo.
I don't understand it. Maybe it's supposed to be symbolic or something. But why devote the time and effort to a symbolic practice instead of to real community? Rather than determining when the proper time is to stand up and retrieve your bread from the tables up front, why not actually open up to another person, share your struggles, and receive support?
One might argue we do it because Jesus said so: "Do this in remembrance of me." But, keep in mind, that happened during the last supper. What if Jesus was talking about eating meals together, and just being in community with each other? Also, when they all ate the bread and drank the wine (yeah, it actually was wine; I silently laugh at anyone who tries to tell me it was grape juice), Jesus didn't say, "Examine your heart before you eat and drink these"; rather, he unconditionally invited his disciples to eat with him, without any confession of sins. And I think he still extends that invitation to us. "Be in community with me." But that invitation doesn't only come the first Sunday of each month--it is an open invitation.
Personally, I can't imagine how I could get closer to Jesus by eating a piece of bread and drinking grape juice from a tiny, plastic cup. Maybe some people can do that; good for them. I can at least somewhat understand the Catholic perspective. They believe they are actually consuming Jesus' body and blood. And, if you take Scripture literally, that is exactly what Jesus commands in John 6. He says if we eat his body and drink his blood, he will remain in us. So eating his body and blood is a good thing, right?
I don't believe the Catholic perspective, however. I think that fact makes communion much less important for me.
The Jesus I know is not a legalist; he loves me no matter what external or internal things I do. So I don't think he'd be pissed if I didn't take part in the Protestant church's version of communion.
I was gonna talk here about baptism too, but this post is already long enough. Maybe for a later post.
To me, communion is a silly ritual where you eat a small piece of bread (or a stale pre-ordered official "communion wafer"; there are magazines where you can order these things) and drink a tiny amount of grape juice (not wine, heaven forbid). Sometimes the pastor or whoever is presiding over it encourages you to "examine your heart" before "taking of the elements"...whatever that means. Communion is usually a very serious, solemn practice. Talking of any sort is taboo.
I don't understand it. Maybe it's supposed to be symbolic or something. But why devote the time and effort to a symbolic practice instead of to real community? Rather than determining when the proper time is to stand up and retrieve your bread from the tables up front, why not actually open up to another person, share your struggles, and receive support?
One might argue we do it because Jesus said so: "Do this in remembrance of me." But, keep in mind, that happened during the last supper. What if Jesus was talking about eating meals together, and just being in community with each other? Also, when they all ate the bread and drank the wine (yeah, it actually was wine; I silently laugh at anyone who tries to tell me it was grape juice), Jesus didn't say, "Examine your heart before you eat and drink these"; rather, he unconditionally invited his disciples to eat with him, without any confession of sins. And I think he still extends that invitation to us. "Be in community with me." But that invitation doesn't only come the first Sunday of each month--it is an open invitation.
Personally, I can't imagine how I could get closer to Jesus by eating a piece of bread and drinking grape juice from a tiny, plastic cup. Maybe some people can do that; good for them. I can at least somewhat understand the Catholic perspective. They believe they are actually consuming Jesus' body and blood. And, if you take Scripture literally, that is exactly what Jesus commands in John 6. He says if we eat his body and drink his blood, he will remain in us. So eating his body and blood is a good thing, right?
I don't believe the Catholic perspective, however. I think that fact makes communion much less important for me.
The Jesus I know is not a legalist; he loves me no matter what external or internal things I do. So I don't think he'd be pissed if I didn't take part in the Protestant church's version of communion.
I was gonna talk here about baptism too, but this post is already long enough. Maybe for a later post.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
A history lesson, I think.
I took a history class last spring semester, on U.S. History from WWII to Vietnam. In this class, we had to write a 10-12 page research paper on a topic of our choice within the scope of the class. In the first few weeks of the class, we watched a film called Coming Out Under Fire, which is a documentary about gay and lesbian soldiers in WWII. That video piqued my interest, so I decided to write my paper about a similar topic. I chose to research the tactics that the Selective Service used to try to weed out homosexuals from military service. Here's one quotation I found that Colonel William C. Porter made in 1941:
"We feel that homosexuals, if they are overt in their manifestations, can do inestimable harm in the Army of the United States by seduction of youths who are not homosexually inclined."*
If Alfred Kinsey was right about what percentage of the population is homosexual, then homosexuals should be a significant minority in the armed forces. And yet, it was believed that their presence was powerful enough to convert a straight man to gay. Does this mean that Colonel Porter believed sexual orientation was malleable? If so, then why couldn't the armed forces be used as a "reform camp" for straight soldiers to "seduce" gay soldiers? However, based on what the quotation says, it seems that he believes heterosexuality is able to be lost, but that homosexuality is permanent. Doesn't that imply that homosexuality is more powerful than heterosexuality? If so, then that goes against common stereotypes of homosexuals: effeminate, unmanly, etc.
Now let's compare that to today. Today we have ex-gay organizations (or, in the case of Exodus International, had, thank God) that exist to "convert" gay people to straight. So apparently the beliefs that proponents of these organizations hold about sexuality have changed: now homosexuality is able to be "cured," and heterosexuality has the ability to trump homosexuality. I think some people still believe that one cause of homosexuality is seduction, but they also believe that it can be undone through ex-gay therapy.
Both of these perspectives are total B.S., by the way.
I'm just observing changes over time. Really interesting.
*William C. Porter, "Proceedings: Seminar on Practical Psychiatric Diagnosis." Chicago, May 19, 1941.
"We feel that homosexuals, if they are overt in their manifestations, can do inestimable harm in the Army of the United States by seduction of youths who are not homosexually inclined."*
If Alfred Kinsey was right about what percentage of the population is homosexual, then homosexuals should be a significant minority in the armed forces. And yet, it was believed that their presence was powerful enough to convert a straight man to gay. Does this mean that Colonel Porter believed sexual orientation was malleable? If so, then why couldn't the armed forces be used as a "reform camp" for straight soldiers to "seduce" gay soldiers? However, based on what the quotation says, it seems that he believes heterosexuality is able to be lost, but that homosexuality is permanent. Doesn't that imply that homosexuality is more powerful than heterosexuality? If so, then that goes against common stereotypes of homosexuals: effeminate, unmanly, etc.
Now let's compare that to today. Today we have ex-gay organizations (or, in the case of Exodus International, had, thank God) that exist to "convert" gay people to straight. So apparently the beliefs that proponents of these organizations hold about sexuality have changed: now homosexuality is able to be "cured," and heterosexuality has the ability to trump homosexuality. I think some people still believe that one cause of homosexuality is seduction, but they also believe that it can be undone through ex-gay therapy.
Both of these perspectives are total B.S., by the way.
I'm just observing changes over time. Really interesting.
*William C. Porter, "Proceedings: Seminar on Practical Psychiatric Diagnosis." Chicago, May 19, 1941.
2013 pop
For the first few months of 2013, I was sad because there were very few good pop songs out. But as the year has progressed, that's gotten a bit better. Here's my favorites from this year, ranked from my favorite to least favorite:
"Blurred Lines"--Robin Thicke
"Mirrors"--Justin Timberlake
"The Way"--Ariana Grande
"Suit & Tie"--Justin Timberlake (if we can just forget that Jay-Z was even involved)
"C'Mon"--Ke$ha
"Get Lucky"--Daft Punk
Ok, nevermind, I take that back. If these are the only good songs that 2013 has produced, then 2013 sucks so far.
Don't fret, though, Lady Gaga's new album comes out on November 11 (single released August 19).
"Blurred Lines"--Robin Thicke
"Mirrors"--Justin Timberlake
"The Way"--Ariana Grande
"Suit & Tie"--Justin Timberlake (if we can just forget that Jay-Z was even involved)
"C'Mon"--Ke$ha
"Get Lucky"--Daft Punk
Ok, nevermind, I take that back. If these are the only good songs that 2013 has produced, then 2013 sucks so far.
Don't fret, though, Lady Gaga's new album comes out on November 11 (single released August 19).
I don't go to church
Shocking title, I know.
But yes. Today is Sunday, and I didn't go to church for the, what, eleventh week in a row? At least. Eleven is just a rough estimate. The point is, I haven't been going to Sunday church for quite a while.
A lot of Christians would shame me for that. I remember in high school, a lot of my teachers said, "When you go to college, make sure you get plugged into a good church; otherwise, your faith will crumble." So based on my church attendance record, my faith should be wilting, right?
Wrong.
The important thing to remember about the church is that it is not a place. It is not a building with stained-glass windows that cost millions of dollars to build. Rather, the church is believers being in community with one another. Which means that "church" is not at all limited to Sunday. It can happen any time believers are hanging out doing whatever.
If we define the church as such, then does it really matter whether or not one attends on Sunday? The way I see it, as long as a believer has a group of other believers which he or she can hang out with--and hangs out with them regularly--then that is sufficient. And I do have that.
But just because one has such a community does not mean that they stop going to a building on Sunday. So why have I made that choice?
The short answer is that rather than a place of growth, Sunday churches are a place where I just get frustrated and jaded. I figure it is probably better for me not to go because of the negative effects it has on me.
The longer answer takes some dissection into what makes me frustrated and jaded. Let's dive in, shall we?
First, the music. I know that I am extremely critical of music because I am a pretty musical person, so maybe this is me just being snobby. But whatever. Most modern worship songs use the same predictable chord progressions, and the melodies are extremely predictable. Also, I can usually predict what words are coming next, even if it's a song I haven't heard. Notice any themes here? There is a phrase: "familiarity breeds contempt," and I find that to be exceedingly true.
Additionally, the lyrics piss me off. Nearly every modern worship song has a positive message. In reality, though, sometimes people need to sing angry songs. Sometimes people need to sing sorrowful songs. Sometimes people need to sing songs about apathy. Coercing a congregation into singing only positive stuff denies that people are all in different emotional states.
Ooh, coercion. Let's talk a bit more about that. There's always the part of the service where the worship leader says, "You may be seated," or "I'd like to invite you all to stand with me." There is a loss of freedom of expression when everyone is asked to do the same thing. Also, if you don't do what the worship leader says, then you can almost count on people questioning your motives for not taking that action.
Stephanie Drury has more to say about the "I'd like to invite you" phrase:
http://www.stuffchristianculturelikes.com/2011/09/221-saying-i-would-invite-you-to.html
Second, the atmosphere. It has always seemed like an unspoken rule to me that Sunday church is not a time to be sad or angry. Rather, there is an expectation that you need to be in a positive mood at church. Now, maybe I'm just assuming this because I haven't been to enough churches, but at every single church I have attended, I have felt this way. I feel that there is no room for the expression of pain, and as such, sometimes people need to be dishonest. They need to hide the shit that they're going through at that time and put on a happy face. As a result, no real community, deep relationships, healing, or encouragement can happen.
Also, I love it when people are expressive in their worship. I love it when churches have flag twirlers, dancers, painters, people speaking in tongues, sign language translators, and/or people raising their hands. I love seeing the different ways in which people use their talents to show how they best worship God. I recognize that this is completely because I have not been to enough churches, but at every church that I have regularly attended, the most that has happened is raised hands. But I can generally count on one hand the number of people that have their hands raised. How. Boring.
Third, the sermons. Someone posed a challenge once to a group of students: to list the five most influential sermons they had ever heard; then to list the five most influential people they had ever known. The students struggled to get past one or two in the first category, but they instantly could think of far more than five people--the struggle there was choosing which five were the most influential. I think that exercise speaks a lot to the power of sermons versus the power of community. People have much more of an effect on other people than sermons do. So then I raise the question, why do we even have sermons? Why don't we just talk to each other, pry into each others' lives, and find out what's really going on? How is listening to one person explicate three or four verses--while sprinkling his (yes, it's almost always a "he," unfortunately) opinion throughout--a better option than real community?
After writing this post, I now see what I desire from church. I just want people to be open and honest. And I currently feel that the way Sunday church is done right now prevents people from doing that.
But yes. Today is Sunday, and I didn't go to church for the, what, eleventh week in a row? At least. Eleven is just a rough estimate. The point is, I haven't been going to Sunday church for quite a while.
A lot of Christians would shame me for that. I remember in high school, a lot of my teachers said, "When you go to college, make sure you get plugged into a good church; otherwise, your faith will crumble." So based on my church attendance record, my faith should be wilting, right?
Wrong.
The important thing to remember about the church is that it is not a place. It is not a building with stained-glass windows that cost millions of dollars to build. Rather, the church is believers being in community with one another. Which means that "church" is not at all limited to Sunday. It can happen any time believers are hanging out doing whatever.
If we define the church as such, then does it really matter whether or not one attends on Sunday? The way I see it, as long as a believer has a group of other believers which he or she can hang out with--and hangs out with them regularly--then that is sufficient. And I do have that.
But just because one has such a community does not mean that they stop going to a building on Sunday. So why have I made that choice?
The short answer is that rather than a place of growth, Sunday churches are a place where I just get frustrated and jaded. I figure it is probably better for me not to go because of the negative effects it has on me.
The longer answer takes some dissection into what makes me frustrated and jaded. Let's dive in, shall we?
First, the music. I know that I am extremely critical of music because I am a pretty musical person, so maybe this is me just being snobby. But whatever. Most modern worship songs use the same predictable chord progressions, and the melodies are extremely predictable. Also, I can usually predict what words are coming next, even if it's a song I haven't heard. Notice any themes here? There is a phrase: "familiarity breeds contempt," and I find that to be exceedingly true.
Additionally, the lyrics piss me off. Nearly every modern worship song has a positive message. In reality, though, sometimes people need to sing angry songs. Sometimes people need to sing sorrowful songs. Sometimes people need to sing songs about apathy. Coercing a congregation into singing only positive stuff denies that people are all in different emotional states.
Ooh, coercion. Let's talk a bit more about that. There's always the part of the service where the worship leader says, "You may be seated," or "I'd like to invite you all to stand with me." There is a loss of freedom of expression when everyone is asked to do the same thing. Also, if you don't do what the worship leader says, then you can almost count on people questioning your motives for not taking that action.
Stephanie Drury has more to say about the "I'd like to invite you" phrase:
http://www.stuffchristianculturelikes.com/2011/09/221-saying-i-would-invite-you-to.html
Second, the atmosphere. It has always seemed like an unspoken rule to me that Sunday church is not a time to be sad or angry. Rather, there is an expectation that you need to be in a positive mood at church. Now, maybe I'm just assuming this because I haven't been to enough churches, but at every single church I have attended, I have felt this way. I feel that there is no room for the expression of pain, and as such, sometimes people need to be dishonest. They need to hide the shit that they're going through at that time and put on a happy face. As a result, no real community, deep relationships, healing, or encouragement can happen.
Also, I love it when people are expressive in their worship. I love it when churches have flag twirlers, dancers, painters, people speaking in tongues, sign language translators, and/or people raising their hands. I love seeing the different ways in which people use their talents to show how they best worship God. I recognize that this is completely because I have not been to enough churches, but at every church that I have regularly attended, the most that has happened is raised hands. But I can generally count on one hand the number of people that have their hands raised. How. Boring.
Third, the sermons. Someone posed a challenge once to a group of students: to list the five most influential sermons they had ever heard; then to list the five most influential people they had ever known. The students struggled to get past one or two in the first category, but they instantly could think of far more than five people--the struggle there was choosing which five were the most influential. I think that exercise speaks a lot to the power of sermons versus the power of community. People have much more of an effect on other people than sermons do. So then I raise the question, why do we even have sermons? Why don't we just talk to each other, pry into each others' lives, and find out what's really going on? How is listening to one person explicate three or four verses--while sprinkling his (yes, it's almost always a "he," unfortunately) opinion throughout--a better option than real community?
After writing this post, I now see what I desire from church. I just want people to be open and honest. And I currently feel that the way Sunday church is done right now prevents people from doing that.
Statement of Intent
A bit over a year ago, I posted a Facebook status which said, "I've thought before about blogging. But then I realized that I don't actually have anything important to say."
That's a crippling statement. By continuing to tell myself that, I subtly maintained the view that what I say doesn't matter. But I know better. I know that I am smart, thoughtful, analytical, and critical. Which means that at least some of what I say is probably valuable.
So. The purpose of keeping this blog is to challenge that statement I made about myself just over a year ago. I'm writing to push myself into new areas. I'm writing to learn how to better organize and express my thoughts. I'm writing to tell myself that what I say is valuable.
I have zero expectations for this blog. Because expectations are generally a precursor for disappointment. (That has potential to be a future post...hmm...) I don't expect many people to read this blog, and I don't expect those that do read it to regularly keep up with it. I also don't expect that I'm going to keep up with it with any regularity. I have this sneaking suspicion that once school starts again, the amount I post will decrease significantly.
So yeah. This blog is for personal growth, for experimentation, and for practice in not having expectations. I guess.
That's a crippling statement. By continuing to tell myself that, I subtly maintained the view that what I say doesn't matter. But I know better. I know that I am smart, thoughtful, analytical, and critical. Which means that at least some of what I say is probably valuable.
So. The purpose of keeping this blog is to challenge that statement I made about myself just over a year ago. I'm writing to push myself into new areas. I'm writing to learn how to better organize and express my thoughts. I'm writing to tell myself that what I say is valuable.
I have zero expectations for this blog. Because expectations are generally a precursor for disappointment. (That has potential to be a future post...hmm...) I don't expect many people to read this blog, and I don't expect those that do read it to regularly keep up with it. I also don't expect that I'm going to keep up with it with any regularity. I have this sneaking suspicion that once school starts again, the amount I post will decrease significantly.
So yeah. This blog is for personal growth, for experimentation, and for practice in not having expectations. I guess.
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