10.31.05
Posted in culture at 4:19 pm by
This post is a sort of response to a conversation that I’ve been having over at Steve Chastain’s blog about uses of language–it started off as a discussion about swearing (and some would limit its utility to that domain)–but I feel quickly morphed into a broader discussion about ethical discourse.
Here’s the short version of the argument just for clarity’s sake. Bear in mind that I’m summarizing the positions of others, thus, my context is incomplete. Please read other’s statements of their own positions, as they’ll be more accurate representations of what those folks believe.
Steve Chastain: It was his blog where the conversation began. Steve seemed particularly reticent to state an explicit position. Ultimately he argued that anyone clinging rigidly to either side of the argument was probably guilty of being a legalist in one way or another.
Jade: Thinks that the use of the word, “Fuck” is a poor use of language. While I didn’t completely understand her argument about whether it was sinful or not, I think it’s completely fair to say that she’s against using the Fuck-word.
Brandon: Thinks that the use of the word, “Fuck” is appropriate and helpful in expressing one’s self. Sees nothing morally wrong with it or any other ‘explitives’.
If you’ve been around here for a while, you’ve noticed that I’ll drop the occasional bit of ’salty language’. In fact, I’ve written a number of explanatory treatises on my decision to include these words as part of my everyday blog vocabulary, and my decision to exclude others. I’ve even theorized that it would be ethical for Christians to use more swear words in their daily speech patterns.
Long story short, I’ve written and thought a lot about this topic, and I feel strongly about it. With all that as context, I’d like to respond to a post that Jade made over at Steve’s site. I didn’t want to litter Steve’s comment section so I decided to take my response over here. Plus, I thought that this was something that would benefit the larger community of folks that happen by this place from time to time.
Jade posted this to Steve’s site, and I think that the comment is pretty fairly directed at me–though others were probably targeted as well:
But I think that some of your readers are offensive and negative and do not see your true love of God. Maybe I have not been here long enough to see the better sides of some of your readers, but I do not believe that I will stay around to see if they come out. What I have found on this site is more negative and damaging than anything that I have ever found in a church…
…But here is one final thought for all -. If I want to be torn down for my faith and my beliefs, I would rather go to non-Christians than to my brothers and sisters in Christ. There is nothing in your attitudes (other than Steve’s) that I find even remotely Biblical or even the slightest bit helpful.
Philippians 4:8 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things”
Well that’s a shocker. Accused of being unBiblical. Never heard that one before.
Here’s my thing, Jade is passing herself off as the noble creature. The defender of all that is right. The positive-est person alive. That’s what it means to be a ‘good’ Christian.
I’m calling her bluff on that. Christians aren’t called to be happy all the time. In fact, as I pointed out in my previous post, I don’t even really think that Christians are called to be content…I would even go so far as to say that they absolutely ARE called NOT to be content. Sometimes, negativity is holy.
I find it poigniant that I’m making the point of holy discontent on Reformation Day. Normally, we think of Reformation Day as the day where you dress up and get candy. But, more historically, Reformation Day is a day of celebration that as Christians we are CALLED to holy discontent. To holy dissatisfaction.
Today, we celebrate the fact that Martin Luther was a bad Christian. Damn skippy, I’ll say it again: Today we celebrate the fact that Martin Luther was a bad Christian. Oh yes, he was a monk and probably prayed more all three readers of this blog, combined. But, you know what? He stepped out of the shell of conformity. He called the Church on its crap.
If that’s what I’m being accused of, either by defending the use of ‘taboo’ words, or whatever, if I’m being accused of calling the Church on it’s crap, of challenging the status quo. Well, then I’m proud to stand accused. I’m proud to be guilty.
And it’s not even that I’m so passionate about swearing. I’m not. I mean, I would say that I swear about as much (if not a little more) in real life as I do online. But, I’m not passionate FOR swearing. I think it’s cool if you can make your point without using swear words…but that doesn’t make you any better of a Christian than I.
What, then, am I passionate about? I’m passionate for honest and fair dialogue, for not using veiled rhetoric, for not tearing down people to make your point.
Steve made the point that in the discussion about swearing on his blog, we were really all being legalistic. Straining for gnats he called it. I think he’s right, in a sense. And, I’ll even admit it. I am quite legalistic about the language I use. I think that’s because scripture has clearly mandated how we are to use our words.
However, I think often times Christians misunderstand scripture. They assume that there is some finite ‘blacklist’ of words up in heaven that are unholy. I don’t buy that. Words, as a part of God’s cultural mandate to fill the earth and subdue it, fall–in my opinion–under the banner of creation. They’ve been given to us to use responsibly, wisely, shrewdly, even. Words are beautiful things, but they can be used to tear down rather than to explain, or to build up.
Christians, out of the same mouth, have the tendency to ignore a certain subset of words–words which they simply cannot show evidence for being ‘bad’–and on the other hand use rhetoric that tears down, belittles, hurts, and lies about others in their discourse. I am simply unwilling to accept that the use of the word fucking as a modifier for the phrase “fantastic day” is wrong.
Likewise, I’m unwilling to say that using argumentative tools such as a myriad of logical fallacies, belittling others, inappropriately using positonal power to coerce or manipulate, etc is a-okay when it comes to the ethics of discourse. Such a conclusion is simply contrary to the teachings of the Gospel. And, I needn’t provide a, albeit ill-fitted, scriptural quote to overpower my respondents. My words stand just as they are.
As my informed opinion.
You are, as always, free to share yours.
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10.28.05
Posted in faith at 10:21 am by
I’ve been in an ongoing conversation, sometimes with myself, sometimes with others, about the purpose and substantative value of going to church. (And, for the record, I’ll be carefully using the appropriate nomenclature for the “c”hurch vs. the “C”hurch, please interpret accordingly.)
Steve, from Stupid Church People, has been a formative and helpful voice in my continuing understanding of why church is or is not important for growing Christians. You can read more from him about his situation, but I’ll just say that his crisis of faith, and the honesty with which he shares from that crisis, has been a helpful sounding board by which I’ve grown. So, go read his blog.
Anyhow, I’ve been reflecting, recently, on church and why it’s important. You should know, I go to church. Regularly, even. I enjoy it, but that’s not why I go to church.
We don’t go to a particularly intellectually challenging church, but it is a place that seeks to be diverse and intentional about its place in the community. I like that, but that’s not why I go to church.
We have a sunday school class that meets each sunday morning, I find it more intellectually stimulating, but that’s not why I go to church.
The sunday morning worship is exciting, but that’s not why I go to church.
There’s a strong corpus of likeminded Christians that attend our church, but that’s not why I go to church.
Our church has the capacity to change me and make me a better person, and while that gets a little closer to the meat of the issue, that’s not why I go to church either.
There was a man, we’ll call him George, in my Sunday school class. He passed away last week. He was probably in his mid 70’s. George loved God, like really loved her. George had a passion for sharing the gospel–he had been a missionary before he retired. George was about as conservative as they come, politically…and probably theologically, too.
I go to church so that I can be a part of a community with people like George. His wisdom, his love of God, his devotion to bringing about the Kingdom of God on earth, they’re all things I desperately needed–and desperately need. I need to see and grow and be a part of a community of believers who are not just of like minds.
Of course, I could get that online. I could point to a plethora of sites that don’t share the same allegiances as I some to a small degree and others to a greater degree. However, calling these places community in most cases would be a stretch. Also, there are certain kinds, a certain specific demographic, of people who blog.
All that to say this: settling with being a part of the Church allows you to comfortably place yourself in communities wherein you can be lulled into a sense of happiness and contentment–happiness and contentment are much less likely in a church. Frankly, I think contentment is one of Satan’s (literal or figurative) biggest lies. As Christians, I hold that we’ve been called to be discontent creatures. Now, I think that our discontent should be a hopeful and joyful discontent, but it is a discontent with sin and division and hate, nonetheless.
George didn’t have a blog. I couldn’t just log in and get my daily dose of George. In order to be a part of George’s life, to be in community with George, I needed to go to church.
George is not an outliar. There are lots of Georges in lots of different churches. There are lots of things to like about the Georges there, and lots of things that will, rightly, drive you nuts about them–some will even hurt you deeply. But, in the end, if you’re satisfied to be a part of the Church without being a part of a church–you’ll miss out on some important stuff.
Not all churches bring us into community with Georges. The Baskin Robbins 31 flavours model isn’t particularly conducive to encouraging a variety of different opinions or viewpoints. We need places that both attract diverse audiences and seek to promote those audiences interaction with worship.
NOW…that’s not to say that there’s not a place for being outchurched, or out of fellowship. Please don’t hear me saying that EVERYONE needs to RIGHT THIS MINUTE head to their nearest church body and join up. There’s a place for healing, and there’s a place for renewal. Sometimes, we need the encouragement of like-minds to restore in us joy. Because, after all, discontentment alone is not effective. Disconentment without holy joyfulness isn’t probably leading one down the path of growth.
I’m not claiming to have all the answers, and I’m hoping that you–members of our online community (whom I value greatly)–will be helpful in offering your agreement or dissent on what I’ve written here.
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10.26.05
Posted in faith at 10:12 am by
A new-ish (to me at least) reader made some good comments about altar calls and their ilk. Much of it was dissent–and a good dissent at that. I appreciate such perspectives. Here’s my response:
Jacke,
Thanks for your input! I have a few thoughts in response to your posts. See below:
I don’t run to the alter at the drop of a hat, rather the Holy Spirit pulls me there, as a matter of fact, His pull has been so strong at times I thought I might pass out if I DIDN’T go.
I think, and I can only speak out of my personal experience here, that many times the ‘call of the holy spirit’ is pretty darn hard to distinguish from the social conformity pressure of doing what’s expected. The pressure of doing the good thing.
Worship is a state of mind.
Perhaps, but it’s also an action. An action that requires careful calculation and thought into its motives.
I don’t really understand how you could view an alter call as divisive. Scratching my head over that a little, but your blog is a refreshing change of pace because I’m with you, the Body of Christ should be unifying rather than splitting off into little groups of politically associated schizms. I’m just not sure in the current climate that that is even possible, has it ever been possible?
In answer to your question, no, it’s never been possible. However, that should ABSOLUTELY be no excuse not to try to bridge the schizims. Let me put it to you this way. If the Kingdom of God (eternal) has no division between members of the body of Christ, isn’t that how we should be trying to live in the here and now…in the Kingdom of God (present)? I think it is.
I think you might be reaching a little to assume that those “jelly fish” down front are as concerned about your “bad Christianess” as you seem to be about a divide they never even considered might exist. I don’t personally think when they are praying they are talking to God about those heathen in the back who refuse to go to the alter. Geesh, maybe I’ll ask some of those “jellyfish” about that sometime.
They may not be concerned with my ‘bad Christian-ness’. That’s not really the issue. The point is, we’re all equally in need of God. Why should there be a formal act of worship that invites some, and not others, to pray or to recieve some ‘hard-to-define’ sort of blessing? Isn’t that what we all came to Church for in the first place? The whole idea is that we come, in corporate worship, together to approach the throne of God and to be changed by the experience–ALL of us…not just the ones who conform to the socially accepted act of coming down front.
Could it be that those who go to the altar (see I spelled it right this time, I CAN learn) are those same less reserved people you meet at the office? The ones more likely to tell you about their private lives, while inside you are rolling your eyes thinking “way too much information?” Some people find it easier to display emotion than others, that doesn’t make them better or worse, does it?
Absolutely not. I’m simply arguing that the altar call divides the Church unnecessarily.
Jacke, I appreciate your perspective. I think you do raise a valid point that it may not be the people themselves up front that are the problem. Often, these folks really do want ‘a spiritual experience’ or somesuch…and, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
Also, I’d say that an altar call that is a community act of lifting up some believers, or a welcoming into community of some believers is a great thing. (Yes, my ’satan’s happy when there are altar calls’ phrase was hyperbole.) A few of you have emailed some powerful stories of just this kind of alter-altar call.
Unfortunately, in AmeriChurch (Trademark, all rights reserved) culture–this isn’t always the case. Altar calls seem, all to often (and particularly in the context of youth rallies, etc) to be individualistic displays of holiness. The irony is that the altar call has used the pressure of social norms of individualism to shape its practice.
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10.24.05
Posted in pet peeves at 9:59 pm by
From time to time I check to see who’s been linking here. And, from time to very rare time, someone does link here. This evening, I made one of these little journeys and, much to my surprise, I found that a blog called Salt Sister gave me a little press. This is what she had to say about a bad christian blog:
A Bad Christian Blog
This is worth a read, not because he has anything wholesome to say and not because his reasonings are based on anything solid. They aren’t, but his rumblings are a great example of what happens when someone receives his entire paradigm about Christianity straight out of The Matrix. The way it works is that the victim knows he has been victimized but he knows not what has victimized him. The paradigm pushes on him and he pushes back without the foggiest notion of what he is pushing.
Geez. I’m flattered.
Perhaps, the young salt sister wanted a little free press and the quickest way to do that in the blogosphere is to defame something you haven’t taken the time to understand. Hell, I should know.
But, seriously, it is absolutely a pet peeve of mine when people read about 3 words of one post and think they’ve got a firmer understanding of a person’s self (via their blog) than the person has of their own selves.
I guess what gets my WonderWomans in a wad about this post is the cruel insinuation that I’m some moron who forgot to put on his helmet before he stumbled down off the short bus (please forgive the crude analogy–I’m pissed.) Ms. SaltSister, I’ve been called dumb many times in my life…but it hasn’t happened much lately. Largely, that’s because I’m not.
The next time you get it in your head to run around making insinuations that people don’t have a fucking clue, perhaps you’d do well to ACTUALLY READ AND EXPERIENCE WHAT THEY’RE SAYING. Become a part of their community of origin, dialogue with them, argue with them; learn who they are, from where they’ve come, and discover where they’re going. Standing on a mountaintop, divining who the ‘thinking Christians’ are, and from your holy pinnacle declaring them fools that aren’t–that’s not likely to win you any friends. Again, I should know.
SaltSister, I doubt you’ll read this. Frankly, that’s just my luck. But if you do, know that you’re welcome to hang around these parts. I just don’t need to hear about how dumb I am, or how wrong I am, or why I’ve got it wrong and you’ve got it right. That’s exactly the paradigm that I’m proported not to know about even though I fight against it daily.
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Posted in life at 8:30 pm by
ADDENDUM: Because several readers have seen fit to berate me publicly elsewhere because of this post, I’ve taken the opportunity to clear things up a tad. If you’re interested in hearing both sides of the story, and it seems that some people really aren’t, you’d do well to read this link. This is the original start of the post:
I don’t know that any of you will be particularly interested in this story. But, I’m going to tell it anyway. I study organizational communication, well, at least that’s the area of the discipline that I hope to be able to make me some money someday…but I also have a distinct interest in Computer Mediated Communication. Thus, my affinity for blogging. I find the relationships and communities that develop online to be simply fascinating.
As I was thinking about online communities, I got an email from an old friend back on the Relevant Magazine discussion boards. His name is Kevin. Kevin’s doing his undergraduate thesis on Relevant Magazine. I’ve no doubt that it will be an interesting read–at least if you’re a geek like me. Anyway, his email asking me about people involved with relevant sort of brought me back. Way back. Back to the beginning of my little experiment with online communities.
Honestly, I can’t remember if I’ve written at length about this story. I know I’ve told parts of it, but, I thought it might be nice to get it down onto virtual paper. It all started back in the spring of 2003 when I picked up my first copy of Relevant Magazine. I thought it looked pretty cool, so I looked up their website. Lo and behold, what was I to find but a marvelous little message board.
The community there was a welcome reprieve from, well, work. When I needed a break, I would spend some time chatting, discussing, arguing…mostly arguing, with people about theology, life, and the confluence of the two. I found that for as ‘cutting edge’ and ‘progressive’ as the magazine sold itself, the folks in the online message board community were a tad on the, how to put this nicely, conservative side of things. Fair enough, though. Lively discussion ensued.
I really did meet a number of really great people there. Eventually, though, my critique that the leadership of the board was one-sided, arrogant, and totalitarian landed me so firmly in the shit-list of the Relevanteers that I was given a one-way ticket outta there. Banned for life. Since then, the leadership of that board have moved along to other projects–projects which I’ve chosen to not rear my bad Christian little head into.
As a short aside, I will give a plug to both the books and poetry editors for Relevant Magazine online. I can wholeheartedly say that Relevant scored big when they nabbed these two to serve as editors for their online magazine.
Much fireworking and nastiness could be recounted, I’m sure. But, I doubt much of it would prove either fruitful or accurate. One positive spinoff, though, of one of the Relevant Magazine fallouts was the birth of a new online community. A smaller community of ‘like-er’ minds. It was called the Balcony. If you’d like to know the etymology of the term ‘the balcony’ I’m sure some handy searching of the site will find you what you’re looking for. This real, if more crass, community was an online community for me after I’d received my lifetime banishment from Relevant.
Though I don’t frequent the place anymore, I will say that the folks (mostly fellows) there were a really supportive group of people. I really got the sense that they cared (and still care) for one another. From the talented site designer–who, by the way, if you’re looking for site architect, is one of the best in the business–to some of my friends who spend/spent their time at the balcony, it was (and is) a great place.
In about June of 2004, it became the cool thing to do to start a blog. Everyone at the balcony was doing it. I followed suit, I mean, I had this webspace lying around with not much to do with it. So, to challenge myself, I decided to see if I couldn’t figure out how to install blog software on my own. It worked.
Eventually, my ability to be both a straight “A” student and a regular ‘time spender’ at a message board dwindled. For the very first time in my life, being a good student won out. Luckily, I found that having my own little chunk of cyberspace via a blog was a nice parting gift. Further, I found that there were a number of loosely connected communities floating around in the blogosphere that I didn’t mind being a part of.
And there, for the past year and a half, I’ve stayed.
So there, that’s how I got to the point where I am now with reference to online communities. I hope you enjoyed my little walk down memory lane. I found it to be relaxing! Of course, that makes sense because it was my story. What a self-gratifying post! You know, I think we all need those little “my-stories-are-important” posts from time to time. We all need the opportunity to share our stories, to tell our testimonies to eachother. I look forward to hearing yours.
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Posted in faith at 9:59 am by
So, I’ve been thinking a little more about what, exactly, it is that drives me bonkers about altar calls. But, before I launch into yet another diatribe on the general sucky-ness of the altar call mentality. I’d like to say thanks to all of you who’ve shared your thoughts and even some of your own past altar call experiences.
I’d like to say that I agree with Shannon who expressed that she liked the idea of publicly sharing one’s faith with a group of people. I have no problem with the public statement of faith. However, I believe that that public statement is an important part of BECOMING a part of a community. That statement should be the starting off point of accepting the promises of God to an individual.
This thought leads me to my second point. I think that an altar call is, quite often, a time when communities are separated rather than joined. Think about it, people are called down because they ‘need God’ or some fundagelical phrase meaning that they’re ‘coming to Christ’, etc.
What tends to happen, though, with these altar calls is that two distinct groups of people emerge. There’s the jellyfish crew in front, and the bad Christians in the back (quietly scoffing at the vascilatting invertibrate at the front of the sanctuary.)
Here’s the thing: We all perceive that we need God. That’s why we came to Church to begin with. Yes, some of us need God through the community provided by Church-as-a-social-network, some of us need God in other ways, but, when it comes down to it–we came to church because we needed God. So, it seems strange that there would be a time for some people to ‘receive the holy spirit’ or ‘come to Christ’ (again) or to ‘hear what God has to say’. Why must we create a divide in our midst. We all need God.
We’ve got enough hurdles in our communities nowadays. We don’t need another. It’s hard enough trying not to be selfish, individualistic, consumer-driven, self-gratification-whores, why should we add another feature of division into our midst?
I’m not saying that it’s wrong to be an emotional person, or that we shouldn’t be sensitive to the moving of the holy spirit. I’m just saying that when we go about dividing our communities into groups of higher (the super-Jesus-y) and lower (the bad Christians) status, historically good things have not ensued. It’s almost as if sentimentality and being susceptible to emotional manipulation has become equivalent to holiness. And, not being down with running around hugging fellow churchmembers all the time, makes you less holy than others.
Division of the people has always been a result of sin. And, if like I do, you’re into being a participant in the creation and the inbreaking of the Kingdom of God into the here and now, you’re probably not so down with division. One of the features of the Kingdom that I see as essential is unity.
If we’re really interested with being Kingdom bringers (or perhaps helpers), we should be interested in creating good worship habits. Good worship habits bring people together, not split them apart.
This brings me to my conclusion:
Satan is happy every time there’s an altar call.
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10.21.05
Posted in christ-haunted life at 12:57 pm by
Steve Chastain of Stupid Church People made a comment that got me thinking about the phenomena of youth rally altar calls. It’s been a while since I whipped my self into a ‘pissed-off-about-contemporary-Christian-white-cracker-ass-ghetto-cultre’ froth, so I thought I’d take a whack at it again.
Because this story is kind of about me, I’m filing it under christ-haunted life. I’m a little reticent to do that because I’m pretty sure the vignette I’m about to share has little to do with Christ Haunting…or maybe it does after all. That was cryptic, I know. Let me get on to the point.
Altar calls, as I’ve said before, piss me off. To me they feel like a contrived “social influence-fest” wherein, various church or youth group ‘in-group’ members use coersion to effectively pressure people into doing things in order to appear to be spiritual.
The layers of coersion at youth rallies and gatherings of that sort are incredibly insidious. First of all, students, typically highschool age, head off to a camp or a convention center for an extended period of time in which there is relatively limited adult supervision. So, these kids are basically off on their own. I don’t have a huge problem with this, per se, except that it’s rare, I think, that the main by-product of these conventions is actually “people coming to Christ.” The main by-products are, more often, kids trying cigarettes and alcohol for the first time, and random and wanton hook-ups between people who have no business ‘hooking up’ (and use your imagination to figure out exactly what that means.) Anyway, that’s all sort of an aside to my main point.
My biggest problem with youth rally altar calls is that they’re fuckin’ stupid. Here’s the typical drill:
- A big dog and pony show happens on stage with lots of flashing lights, big name speakers, cool bands with attractive band members, praise songs with lots of actions.
- Once you’ve been seduced by the dimming of the lights, the flashing of the occasional strobe, and you’ve got a head-rush because you’ve been raising your hands in praise so frequently, it’s time for the speaker.
- Enter stage left: Dynamic speaker. The goal of this speaker, to capitalize on the sleep deprived, overly emotional, and nearly frenzied, state that the youth have been whipped into with the overarching goal of getting as many people as possible to come down at the end of the presentation and “Come to Christ.”
- Coming to Christ will be operationally defined as publicly getting up from one’s seat and coming down in front of the stage and swaying slowly in time to the gentle “Coming to Christ” music (trademark, all rights reserved, copyright infringement will be prosecuted to the fullest extent allowable by law.)
- Coming to Christ must be done publicly. If it were not so, you would not be able to display your moral superiority over and above those who are sitting in the audience.
- Once the area between the front row and the stage is so full of people slowly swaying (with their arms raised, holding their friends hands, or openly embracing random others) that it appears from a distance that a giant jellyfish has landed in front of said stage, enough people have ‘come to Christ’
- After the jellyfish swaying incident, all of the ‘comers to Christ’ will be shuttled down to a room so that they might be prayed with, and put on a mailing list–Christ, like Santa it turns out, needs your address.
I remember ‘coming to Christ.’ It was really emotional. Sort of. I was in 9th grade, and I made the long moral superiority walk. I became holy that day. I remember going forward because my friends went forward, and, because the convention I was at was so large, I didn’t want to lose them. I even managed to muster some tears and put my arms around a few girls up in the middle of the vacillating jellyfish.
The thing that pisses me off most about it, though, is that it is in no way really about Jesus. Now, that’s not to say that it can’t be for some individuals, but for the organizers…I’m just not sure it’s about anything spiritual.
You see, they’ve created an altar call to be a numbers game. The bigger the gelatinous orb in the front of the room, the more successful the conference, the better the speaker. Tell me, what’s so holy about standing up in a group of people? There’s nothing holy about it. There’s nothing particularly holy about filling up the front of an auditorium, either.
The thing that really gets my panties in a wad is that each year people come back and report how many people ‘came to Christ’ at the conference. As if people coming to Christ, and all that that means in the context of an altar call (which is basically nothing more than a G-rated orgy of social influence), actually has something to do with people growing in their faith.
I’ve got news for you. You can grow in your faith with your ass in your seat. You needn’t take a walk of shame up to the front of the room for Jesus to change your life.
Likewise, when people speak of the mega-church movment and use the argument–as they often do over at Greg’s blog, The Parish–that we shouldn’t say these places/things/practices are bad, because, after all, people are coming to Christ, I get pissed. What does it mean for people to ‘come to Christ’? Have we really reduced that down to the point where coming to Christ means that you’ve succumed to social pressure and you stood, once, in the front of the church with some people doing the holy jellyfish sway dance. So, the argument goes, because altar calls have huge numbers of people coming forward, God is moving. Again, I’ve got news for you. That might not be so much about God moving as much as it’s about the power of conformity and social pressure. The altar call has, ironically, become an idol in and of itself.
Is that really all it means to ‘come to Christ’? To conform to the norms of holiness of a religious group. To stand in front of an auditorium and sway with our arms around our friends. To be perceived as holy.
Somehow, I doubt it. I doubt it a lot.
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Posted in pet peeves at 9:26 am by
I’ll file this one under:
I’d rather drink my own urine.
That is all.
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10.19.05
Posted in faith at 2:45 pm by
I love listening to Stupid Church People. I really do. And, frankly, I love what they say about the Church the vast majority of the time. Steve and Josh’s discontent matches mine most often.
Lots of times people swing by StupidChurchPeople.com just to hate and disagree. That pisses me off. I think people should be friends before they disagree. That’s why, up till now, I haven’t really critiqued anything from there. I think it’s important that critique come from within a community rather than from outside. Critique is then, I think, a much more acceptable rhetorical contribution.
With all that said, I’m going to nitpick about something that Steve and Josh hit on today on the show. But, before I do that, I’d like to make a few disclaimers. This, as critique SHOULD be, is an opinion. Thus, I’ll respect you if you don’t agree, and I expect the same in return. Okay, with that said, game on.
Steve and Josh on the latest show talk about the habits and practices of the Church and how those habits and practices are stupid. Let me say at the outset, I largely agree with this. However, one of the things the guys picked on this week was the ‘order of worship’ / liturgy.
They mentioned that they really didn’t like the idea of the planning out of worship. Or, at least, that they thought it was all about the theatre of Church and that rather than an actual spiritual experience. “Orchestrated spirituality”, Josh called it. I’m not so sure I agree. I mean, when I think of planning out an order of worship, I think of prayerfully–and yes, being guided by the Holy Spirit–planning out a discussion in which a community comes together to communicate with (to speak to and hear from) God. That, to me, is the crux of what a ‘worship service’ is.
Perhaps, part of the reason the StupidChurchBoys don’t seem to see eye to eye on this is that they come from a very different culture of Christianity than I. The churches they talk about attending seem to be much more of the Mega-variety than the ones with which I normally associate. Their critique seems dead on if I place myself back in my own shoes when I was going to my old Churches. The order of worship seemed to be planned by the wanton tossing of a bunch of slips of paper with possible song names into a hat and then drawing them randomly in order to determine the order of the songs.
I think there’s a place for openness and the movement of the holy spirit within worship. I think, though, that it’s entirely possible to sense the movement of the holy spirit through structure, through order. Frankly, I crave that order in worship. Like the StupidChurchFellows, I’ve grown discontent with the ‘willynilly’ philosophy of worship order. I think, rather than disliking the order of worship itself, I dislike the people that plan worship shitily.
But, then again, I’m probably being a bit picky.
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10.17.05
Posted in home ownership at 9:30 pm by
Jen and I decided tonight, during our nightly phone call, that we were going to write a book. This book is going to be about the extacy (or lack thereof) of home ownership. Specifically, we’re going to focus on owning one’s first home. A starter home.
I thought to myself, “wouldn’t it be nice to blog a tad about our home-makeover escapades.” So, that’s exactly what I’m doing. We decided that we’d write a collection of short essays about vignettes taking place within the four walls of our little starter house on Fuller Avenue. Some will be humorous. Some, as time has passed, have gotten more humorous to me. Some have yet to become humorous to me. All, I think, are stories worth telling.
So, with no further adieu…here’s “little house on Fuller Ave”:
My neighbor is a black bear.
Location, location, location. That’s what they tell you, at least. So, when we were shopping for a house, Jen and I looked for a location that was pretty central, close to shopping, the freeway, near cultural activities, parks, and so forth. We made some concessions when it came to living on a busy road, I mean, we’re not millionaires or anything, but overall, we bought a pretty nice place at a reasonable price.
One thing that they don’t tell you, though, when you’re thumbing through the real estate manual entitled, “How to decide on an good location” is that the aesthetic appeal of one’s neighbors needs to be taken into account.
I say this because our neighbor is a black bear. Now, don’t get me wrong, he hasn’t gotten into our garbage or anything (well, at least not yet). And, to look at him you might be fooled. You see, he walks upright and wears cut-off jean shorts. Yet, Jen and I, we know better than to fall for his ruse. You see, his body hair gives him away.
“The bear” as we like to call him is rather fond of making his way out into his driveway–which our picture window unfortunately frames–and has his morning smoke. I have to wonder if it has ever occured to the bear that, living on a busy street, it might be wise to, you know, make his bear-ness less obvious by the subtle wearing of clothing.
Yet, the bear seems to have no regard for the perceptions of others. The bear can regularly be seen enjoying a cigarette on even the coldest of days. There he’ll be, out in nothing but a pair of flip-flops, daisy dukes, and his natural furry self. On warm days, he’ll wander throughout his driveway enjoying a nicotene fix and sunning himself.
Oh, the bear plays it cool to hold down his day job–installing satellite dishes–donning a too-tight-t-shirt (stained) and a work-belt. But, it never takes more than a minute after he’s returned home to toss on his cut-offs and flip-flops in order to pace around his yard. Regardless of the time of year, the bear seems impervious to the effects of cold. His thick layer of back-hair shielding him from even the most extreme of fall weather.
Last winter, Jen and I noticed an odd absence of the bear. Between about November and April, we thought he’d moved on to a more suitable habitat. But then, there he was, at the beginning of April–out, pacing around his driveway. Hibernation, clearly.
This all leads me to wonder, how, exactly does one market a house around which bears frequent. Is it fair, although I live within the city limits, to say that my house has view of a wide variety of wildlife? I’m just speculating here, but I think it might be best, when the day comes to sell our little piece of Grand Rapids, that we not mention the bear. We’ll have to hope that he’s away at his day job when potential homebuyers come to inspect our house. Perhaps, we’ll keep the shades pulled. I mean, it’s only fair that the next owners of our little house on Fuller Ave, like Marty Stouffer, get to discover the veritable Wild Kingdom that exists just outside their picture window.
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