The Drunk Church

When I was in college, as a religion and philosophy student, I studied a lot of postmodernism. In a class on using contemporary music in religious teaching, I presented postmodernism by using the metaphor of a hangover. For application, I played Johnny Cash's "Sunday Morning Coming Down." Postmodernism takes what we've always known to be true, deconstructs that perspective, and allows us to start from scratch, with experience and intellect to guide the way. I've had my share of crazy nights and I found this to be much like a hangover...we go through the night feeling like we know everything, confident in our worldview....and then we wake up.
I see the modern North American Evangelical church acting as the role of the drunk frat guy on Saturday night, everything is amazing and heading in the right direction, he loves everyone, and everyone loves him. The sub-movement I see happening is the hangover on Sunday morning, a mysterious awareness of something missing, something that can only be seen when all of the hype has been stripped away.
The Biblical church set a rather revolutionary example of ministry that seems to have been forgotten by the modern church. Leaders did not stay in one place with one group of people. They were spread all over to preach the gospel and maintain communication among the "churches". Churches were no more than a gathering of people in a home but mostly they functioned as the earliest form of a community organization, feeding the hungry, giving to the poor, caring for the widows and orphans.
Today's church has reached a point where community outreach and giving are simply selling points for the church and are still only done once all of the internal needs are met, sound systems, decor, salaries, technology. Are all of these things important? Of course. Without them, the church would have very little to attract those who want to have a fulfilling experience. So, the problem seems to be two-fold: a transformed view of what people expect of the church, and how corporate the church has become. It's a vicious cycle and a "chicken or the egg" dilemma, but the problem remains the same. Churches have become pep rallies for the gospel or, in some cases, for the church itself, and in doing so, have left behind the raw focus of the gospel itself.
So, what's the point of my rant? My assertion is that so many of the tragic trends we see in our culture are a direct result of the drunk church. From the divisive nature of our political world to how we relate to each other and those who are different from us...that's why this is important and that's why I'm encouraged to see a lesser visible emerging trend from the faithful who are aware of this....mostly among those who have been an active part of the church for long enough to see what's going on and who are caught in the predicament of either a complete abandonment of the church or seeking out a solution.
In an attempt to give myself some credibility with regards to writing about such things, I'll give a brief background of my own involvement in the church.
I was raised in a conservative evangelical church, where my father was the pastor. For years, I battled with the horrible things I saw in the church and what I knew to be true about the gospel and how it can transform lives. My dad never fit in. He was more comfortable in a room full of skeptics than a room full of Sunday School teachers, members who could care less what went on outside the church, and elders who wanted him to clock his hours so that he wasn't spending too much time engaging in real pastoral care. I had the unpleasant experience of knowing what happens backstage. Years of rebellion and life experience later (including the sudden death of my father before he had a chance to escape), I found my way back to Christianity, with a shitload of baggage under my arm. However, as it turns out, I seemed to have some of the gifts my dad did and found myself in seminary and in leadership at a church who truly allowed me to be me. The differences between my childhood church and my current church are significant. Does my church exhibit some of the issues I've been discussing? Yes, no one is perfect. However, at least here I have trust and respect for a leadership that is scrappy, willing to admit fault, and always listening. That's hard to come by.
That being said, I still feel the need to create a place where getting back to the basics of what the church is supposed to be is the focus.
This blog post is an attempt to unleash some bottled up thoughts and set the stage for further thought...and also to reintroduce me to the world of blogging!
There is a quiet, steady, Sunday morning voice creeping up that doesn't fit the mold of hype and extremism (more on that in an upcoming post). Because of this, I see what's going on in a hopeless world and I'm not hopeless.

Link to Johnny Cash's Sunday Morning Coming Down:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HBWFJ85n_w0

Recipe for "Special Dessert for Mama"
by Troy

1/2 cup of flour
1/4 cup baking powder
1 snack pack of blueberry applesauce (that will look really cool coagulating on the baking powder)
5-6 bbq potato chips
several hot pepper rings
garlic powder
peanuts

served in a bowl with a large serving spoon. mmmm.....

Working in the legal field does have its occasional bits of entertainment:
For those of you who had not figured out yet the people in Florida suffer from too much sun, the Florida Governor has signed into law the Preservation and Protection of the Right to Keep and Bear Arms in Motor Vehicles Act of 2008, which allows employees to take their guns to work, provided they keep them locked in their cars. As one of the proponents actually said, an enraged employee who leaves work to get his gun will be provided enough "cooling off" time by having to walk (or run) to his car and then wait to unlock it.

Really.

Yesterday was a pretty bad day. I was feeling disappointed with myself, disappointed with people close to me, disappointed with God. The disappointment came when I became consumed with my own ideas of what these relationships should be in growth and bearing fruit. My love for people turned into an overwhelming burden of responsibility for people. I felt very alone and God wasn't much help...well, wasn't much help because I didn't want him to be. I wallowed in this self-pity for a large portion of the day, giving into my weakness to allow my self-judgment to take control of my thoughts and behaviors.
A few weeks ago I asked a trusted source if "bitch slapping" is an appropriate method of pastoral care, and they assured me it is. I'm further convinced that it is because God does it. On my way to pick up the kids after work, J.S. Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 came on the radio. I loved this when I was young and I haven't heard it in years. I used to spend hours in my room conducting its performance by the "Vienna Philharmonic." I felt like I was 11 again, except that I didn't have to stretch too far to feel that way.
I have a friend who has repeatedly needed to remind me not to take myself too seriously...finding myself conducting an imaginary orchestra in my car, and having that feel like a perfectly normal thing to do because I did it when I was 11, reminded me yet again not to take myself too seriously. No matter the life calling, disappointing relationships, responsibilities, I'm still just a girl with high hopes and little confidence who God needs to bitch-slap every once in a while...and though the disappointment I was feeling was real, I needed that reminder so that I could let go of some of the burden and let God work with the disappointment.

I know it's been a while. Life has gotten in the way of my attempts at this thing. Though I have a few posts in the works, I wanted to throw this on here while it was fresh on my mind. Since my divorce has been filed, and I've thought seriously about the idea of love in all of it's forms, this little poem keeps coming back to me...it was in the cover of a cassette tape I owned of Margaret Becker years ago (I don't know if she's even still around):
There is a moment in time when the knowledge of love and the experience of love precariously meet to form one brilliant point of rest for the soul. From this place, every direction is the same—backwards…forwards…all indelibly marked with the peace that comes when it is finally understood that nothing can shake you from the firm grip of love’s hand.

Sunday afternoon: Gavin intently watching a football game trying to figure out exactly what it takes to be the best football player in history, and how he could use his jedi powers to help achieve that goal....Troy standing on the couch in nothing but shrek underwear and a cape made out of some blanket material playing a guitar that looks a lot like a spatula...to the Rolling Stones album Let it Bleed...beautiful.

Troy's been sick and even though his nose isn't really running like crazy, he has the stuffed up nose voice and it's the cutest thing, especially when he says "actually mama" to me (a signature phrase)...what's more is that Gavin has been so sweet and patient with him. I'm sure they will be back to their normal roles in no time- Troy climbing to the top of the couch and jumping on Gavin, Gavin acting very rational in his response to reason with Troy why it's not a good idea, and both of them settling the dispute with a good old fashioned wrestling match, like only brothers can. For now, though, I'm enjoying my plugged-nose toddler and his sweet-natured big brother.

My dad was an incredible man. He truly loved everyone he encountered, even those he didn't like...I've never seen a better example of a Christian than my dad...and I thought this way even before he died. But the thing that made him truly amazing was what I learned about him after his death. I was able to gain some insight into his real and difficult spiritual struggles, his despair and compassion for human brokenness, his passion for the gospel and spreading its message, and how he actively and aggressively dealt with all these things every day. At his calling hours, what stood out to me was the amount of people there who we had never even heard of. And these weren't just individuals who had known him or known of him, but these were people who he was in constant communication with because they had been struggling with something- from drugs to terminal illness, he seeked these people out because of their need for God's love....and he never told anyone about it. They didn't go to our church; in fact some were people he had met once and just stayed in contact with. How true a reflection of Christ, submissive and quiet, and constantly motivated by love...

Quitting smoking was probably one of the hardest things I've done in my life...and I've had two kids! The reason it was hard was not physical or chemical, it was personal. I think I was holding onto it for the sake of self-inflicting punishment, some sort of stubborn grip to a guilty conscious that I've never been completely rid of. I was not able to get past the idea that it was for my health and my freedom from addiction...I had no problem quitting when I was pregnant and nursing because I wasn't doing it for me, I was doing it for my child. It finally came to a head when I gave up trying and asked God to give me a little help. One thing I've learned in my spiritual journey is that no matter how hard I try to convince myself, I am not nor will I ever be Wonder Woman....I can't do it all on my own and I am not weaker for acknowledging that (I should note that although I recognize this to be true, I seldom behave like it is!). So I asked for help, and oddly enough (because I can't explain it any other way), I stopped smoking. What followed for days, weeks, months has been multiple daily interactions with God....some of them full of profanity and frustration, and some full of pure joy. It's been like an ongoing fast where during those times that I feel the need to smoke, I replace satisfying the craving with real time with Jesus. I was telling a friend that it used to be that my life consisted of what happened between cigarettes and here I am with all that extra time! It has opened a lot of doors and helped me to start thinking clearly about a lot of things...all this plus my life insurance costs went down and I take the stairs all the time!

http://www.rbc.org/utmost/index.php?month=10&day=12&year=07"

sorry, thought I had this in there...

My son Troy is a bit of a monster- but a big, cuddly, more humorous than dangerous monster. Still, his mere presence causes destruction and near tragedies on a daily basis (kinda like the kid on "Honey, I Blew Up the Kid"). He has a very sweet nature and he is quite intelligent and one day I hope that his spirit and drive are channeled into something constructive, but for now he's just Troy- my sweet, crazy, irrational, passionate Troy.
When we are in parking lots or walking up the street, he will look at me with his evil eye and start running just to get my attention. He has run into telephone poles and other cars, but thankfully no oncoming traffic...anyway, today we were leaving a store and I told him he had to hold my hand because he couldn't be trusted in a busy parking lot. He looked at me and said, "Mama just let go, I'll walk next to you." So I did. And he did. It was the first time in a long time that we were walking in stride and I wasn't holding him up with one arm while he was dead weight and wanting to spin around in circles or go back for that package of batteries that he wanted so desperately.
So, like most times when something seemingly insignificant happens, I got thinking about God.
I've posted a link to the My Utmost post from a couple weeks ago because it relates to this...
This past year has been a series of walks through the parking lot for God and me. I've been defiant and wreckless, but most of the time I've just been dead weight, refusing to walk with and accept what God was offering. I've always had this issue of accepting God's grace. I have mostly felt as though I don't deserve it, allowing my own conclusions about myself to override God's. I feel as though it's my place to be the out-of-control toddler...I have too much growing to do...I need to "work my way up" towards salvation. I'm a jackass. That's not what God wants...he wants me to walk with him and that's all- the rest will come. That's when salvation takes on a whole new meaning. It's no longer about formal belief, our eternal destination, or the confines of religion...it's about experiencing God's grace on every level, walking with him.
Recently, this seems to be happening. I keep having these moments where I find myself saying to God, "It's just you and me...you and me.." What an amazing feeling to be walking with God. If I screw up, he's right there...I can't go hide in my own misery because he's right there. If I become disappointed, he's there, "you and me." Suddenly the trivial things in life remain trivial and I can find divine comfort from a chaotic walk through a parking lot.

I thought I would start with a picture of my boys ;)
I set up this blog so I could sign up to play music on Sundays...in 2006...guess I'll take a crack at doing something with it. Here goes...
I never liked the idea of blogging because I don't think anyone really wants to hear anything I have to say. That's okay. Maybe this is just for the sake of unloading some of the muck in my brain and making room for new muck.
My two sons, Gavin and Troy (5 and 3), and I have been living with my mom since my separation from my ex-husband well over a year ago. We just moved about a month ago and now that I'm getting settled in I'm finally doing some reflecting on this past year and everything that has gone on. I don't want to unload too much just yet...this is my way of slowly easing into this world of expressing myself.
I have resisted this because I don't like talking about myself. I didn't want to give the false impression that I thought I mattered enough to have anybody waste their time reading what I have to say...
Then one day God smacked me in the back of the head and told me to get over myself. This is his story, not mine.