Ever wonder why it is that in tongues churches, quite often the "tongues" start to sound the same?
Want proof?
Holy Ghost Tees [link removed, heads to where it should have] will put your particular phrase right on a t-shirt for all the world to see!
I'm hoping this is...ahem...tongue in cheek.
Even it is, the fact that it has reached the level of parody is a statement in and of itself...
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Christian Pole Dancing?
The story can be found here.
Of course it makes the news because it's absurd but the fact that it exists at all is telling.
Is it me or are we just legitimizing our self-centered desires? Any kind of music you like? Got that covered. Sports? Covered. Karate? Covered. Yoga? Covered. Porn? Got that covered too.
Just put a "Christian" stamp on it and - Presto! - the guilt is gone.
Since when did Christianity become a brand?
Of course it makes the news because it's absurd but the fact that it exists at all is telling.
Is it me or are we just legitimizing our self-centered desires? Any kind of music you like? Got that covered. Sports? Covered. Karate? Covered. Yoga? Covered. Porn? Got that covered too.
Just put a "Christian" stamp on it and - Presto! - the guilt is gone.
Since when did Christianity become a brand?
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Invisible Christians
The title of the post does not mean relegate your beliefs into the private sphere.
I'm talking about what is now commonly called "marketplace ministry" (which, sadly, sounds too much like "smorgasbord religion"). Maybe I'm just hungry...
Anyhow, whenever the phrase "ministry" enters any discussion I cringe. Ministry sounds like a badge. This is probably due to my years in the Pentecostal circles but to say a person has a "ministry" immediately elevates their status.
It is not necessarily an extension of who they are (i.e. what others call them) but can easily become a title slapped on (a Christian resume builder) to provide a sense of importance. It often seems to imply that they are somehow above those who don't have what they are hocking.
The frame of reference for me in this regard is my years as a social worker. Though my intentions were pure (to help), there was a level of otherness, an arrogance even, when I first started. I thought I had the answers others didn't and in turn placed myself, unknowingly and unintentionally, above them. There was a condescension in this.
Too often, ministers fall prey to the same thing. The reality is that whether a social worker or a minister, when it comes down to it we are all but humans, lost, drifting, seeking, stumbling, moving on. The only difference may be one's title, one's position or one's calling. But that "position" is not the whoness of the person.
To confuse the two is to risk falling victim to the power such a position wields. This is how ministers fall. They confuse the power of the position with their person.
The philosophy at the church I attend is that if you didn't know the pastors were pastors you wouldn't know they were pastors. But you would know there is something different about them. In fact when in public they refer to themselves as something other than a pastor as the term "pastor" almost always puts up walls, whether out of shame or guilt on the person on the receiving end or, in the opposite extreme, the celebrity worship that often follows pastors.
So the title of the post has to do with how a Christian is supposed to live. This isn't "invisible" as in hide in the sense of cowardice. Invisible simply means that the Christian isn't to wear it as a badge. The Christian is called to let his light shine before men.
And that light is something other than the person. That light dims the more the person interferes with it, trying to capture it, manipulate, stamp an agenda on it. No, the Christian is called to be a beacon of light and the way that happens is by becoming more and more invisible.
This isn't the merging into one in the sense of the traditional eastern philosophies or the fana of the Muslim mystic. The person does not disappear but allows what is unique in his life, in his experiences and in his position to be bathed in this light so that others may also bathe in its glow.
This is difficult as it requires surrender. Even though this is removed from its context, it still resonates:
"...but sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and reverence... (1 Peter 3:15)
'Sanctify' means to acknowledge and 'defense' means to be able to explain. But the key in this is the asking part.
How many of us are living a life that people want to know what it is about us that is different? How many of us just blend in or, on the flip side, are obnoxious about our faith?
Are we so interested in being relevant, in being cool, in not standing out, that we are hindering the light we are supposed to be shining?
Or are we so hung up on feeling pressured to "witness" to others (to earn rewards? guilt assuagance?) that we are hindering the light from shining through us?
Are we more interested in being right than being humble? Do we whip out the battle axe (i.e. Scripture) in an effort to beat down those who argue against us or have different ideas about doctrine?
Just thinking out loud. Again, this started in the context of what is called marketplace ministry. I agree with the idea that being in ministry doesn't mean being behind the pulpit.
But these slick tags just seem to become "multilevel marketing" efforts with guaranteed sales tactics that will earn gold stars to put on heaven's refrigerator door.
Surrender is so very difficult...
I'm talking about what is now commonly called "marketplace ministry" (which, sadly, sounds too much like "smorgasbord religion"). Maybe I'm just hungry...
Anyhow, whenever the phrase "ministry" enters any discussion I cringe. Ministry sounds like a badge. This is probably due to my years in the Pentecostal circles but to say a person has a "ministry" immediately elevates their status.
It is not necessarily an extension of who they are (i.e. what others call them) but can easily become a title slapped on (a Christian resume builder) to provide a sense of importance. It often seems to imply that they are somehow above those who don't have what they are hocking.
The frame of reference for me in this regard is my years as a social worker. Though my intentions were pure (to help), there was a level of otherness, an arrogance even, when I first started. I thought I had the answers others didn't and in turn placed myself, unknowingly and unintentionally, above them. There was a condescension in this.
Too often, ministers fall prey to the same thing. The reality is that whether a social worker or a minister, when it comes down to it we are all but humans, lost, drifting, seeking, stumbling, moving on. The only difference may be one's title, one's position or one's calling. But that "position" is not the whoness of the person.
To confuse the two is to risk falling victim to the power such a position wields. This is how ministers fall. They confuse the power of the position with their person.
The philosophy at the church I attend is that if you didn't know the pastors were pastors you wouldn't know they were pastors. But you would know there is something different about them. In fact when in public they refer to themselves as something other than a pastor as the term "pastor" almost always puts up walls, whether out of shame or guilt on the person on the receiving end or, in the opposite extreme, the celebrity worship that often follows pastors.
So the title of the post has to do with how a Christian is supposed to live. This isn't "invisible" as in hide in the sense of cowardice. Invisible simply means that the Christian isn't to wear it as a badge. The Christian is called to let his light shine before men.
And that light is something other than the person. That light dims the more the person interferes with it, trying to capture it, manipulate, stamp an agenda on it. No, the Christian is called to be a beacon of light and the way that happens is by becoming more and more invisible.
This isn't the merging into one in the sense of the traditional eastern philosophies or the fana of the Muslim mystic. The person does not disappear but allows what is unique in his life, in his experiences and in his position to be bathed in this light so that others may also bathe in its glow.
This is difficult as it requires surrender. Even though this is removed from its context, it still resonates:
"...but sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and reverence... (1 Peter 3:15)
'Sanctify' means to acknowledge and 'defense' means to be able to explain. But the key in this is the asking part.
How many of us are living a life that people want to know what it is about us that is different? How many of us just blend in or, on the flip side, are obnoxious about our faith?
Are we so interested in being relevant, in being cool, in not standing out, that we are hindering the light we are supposed to be shining?
Or are we so hung up on feeling pressured to "witness" to others (to earn rewards? guilt assuagance?) that we are hindering the light from shining through us?
Are we more interested in being right than being humble? Do we whip out the battle axe (i.e. Scripture) in an effort to beat down those who argue against us or have different ideas about doctrine?
Just thinking out loud. Again, this started in the context of what is called marketplace ministry. I agree with the idea that being in ministry doesn't mean being behind the pulpit.
But these slick tags just seem to become "multilevel marketing" efforts with guaranteed sales tactics that will earn gold stars to put on heaven's refrigerator door.
Surrender is so very difficult...
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Biblical Criticism and Theology Lite
Of all the scholars working today my favorite is perhaps James Kugel, former Harvard professor, now working in Israel. His books Traditions of the Bible and, most recently, How To Read The Bible, stand as testaments (no pun intended) to holding both religious faith and modern Biblical criticism in check.
There's something quantum in this. I think the struggles many have with this notion is that we like things in black and white, either/or. Nothing in life works that way (until we make a decision, that is...). I'm reminded again of another physics metaphor, that of the Feynman diagram...
Anyhow, we can hold two seemingly opposite things in tension without becoming dysfunctional. Did Moses write the Torah? If he didn't, does that change our faith or just our assumptions? If the events of Genesis did not "literally" happen, does this change our faith or just our assumptions?
Of course, if it's true, what then? Are scholars lying, the whole scholastic enterprise a "secular" plot to destroy faith?
If, if, if...
I'm reminded of the story attributed to Zhuangzi about the fishing net. Once you have the fish, do you still need the net?
So, let's say the Bible brings us to that place where we experience Truth at the deepest level of our being. This isn't Truth experience as sugar coating pain or regret or guilt or the emotional, feel good experience that comes with the rush of a good Pentecostal service.
This is that experience of which all who have experienced Truth just know.
So let's say you've experienced it and have experienced it through Biblical faith. What is the litmus test?
It isn't how much you know. It isn't whether or not Genesis was written by Moses. It isn't whether or not God dictated every jot and tittle of the Tanakh. It doesn't depend on whether or not the Gospels can be harmonized. All these things rely upon faith.
But what if it is true that these things are not factually, verifiably true? Will your faith crumble?
The strange thing about this is that I am coming out of roughly ten years or more of this struggle. And my faith is intact. Granted, there is a Zen-like, quantum entanglement kind of nuance to it, but it is still a strong Biblical faith nonetheless.
What is my litmus test? It isn't what I know. It isn't how well I quote Scripture. It isn't whether I can recite the creeds, pray or speak in tongues or whether I tithe. None of those things are really the fruits of which Jesus (or Paul, for that matter) speak.
No, the litmus test is how other centered we are, not out of lack but out of abundance, out of genuine concern for the others. If we love God, we must love others (even those who rattle us).
That, my friends, is the litmus test.
Any other litmus test is divisive.
(That wasn't where I intended to go with this post...I actually meant to talk about faith in the workplace...)
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