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.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)