What Should We Be Talking About?

In 2017, I launched the Flip Flops, Glitter, and Theology Podcast, and I had an incredible time conversing with all kinds of amazing people.  It was life giving for me.  I have taken a break from podcasting for the past several months, because things have been crazy, and I figured it was probably better to break than to put out content of subpar quality.  Life is still crazy (let’s be real, that never changes), but I would like to re-boot the FGT podcast with 30 episodes called, “What Should We Be Talking About in the Church?”  My hope is that the transcripts from these episodes might eventually become a book, as well.  Now is your chance to chime in!  If there is a specific topic to which you think we need to give attention, send me a quick message with your proposal, because I have some ideas, but I also know I need to hear from you!  This is certainly open to people who have been on the podcast in the past and people who have not.  And, it doesn’t all have to be controversial (but, let’s face it… it’s me… so a lot of it probably will be…)  

L. 

I Never Knew That

I’m trying pretty hard not to be a church calendar snob.  Honestly, I don’t even know how I got to be this way… how I began to care about the church calendar, at all (about which I knew nothing for the vast majority of my life).  I think, in some ways, it is a classic case of learning something new that resonates deeply and wanting everyone else in the world to have that excitement, as well.  But let’s return to…  I’m not too fond of being a snob (period), and it certainly doesn’t sit well with me to be a snob in the Christian/Church sense.  That just never ends well for anyone!  (But please take note of the fact that my seven year old is really upset about crosses popping up at nativity scenes.)

I did, however, have an exciting moment several weeks back, and I want to share it. 

I was sitting at a table, sharing a meal, and talking about the lectionary (because that’s totally normal, right) when a friend of mine who has been a part of the church community for a lifetime said, “I never knew that God’s people all over the world were studying the same Scriptures, week after week, until you started teaching us about that!” 

We’re talking a matter of days, here, friends!  She had been in church her whole life, and she had never heard anyone talk about the shared study of Scripture, across the board… across geographic and cultural and denominational boundaries… until a few days earlier!  And let’s be real, up until a few years ago, neither had I.

She was excited!  I was excited!  And it’s not because I have some legalistic need to dictate which Scripture should be used at all times by all people.  It’s because this is community!  This sharing of the same words (and the same Word) allows us to connect with people… globally… every single week (and dare I suggest every single day, if we also consume the daily office).

Someone else at the table chimed in…  “Just our denomination, right?”

Um… not quite…

“But not Catholics, right?”

Insert the part where I try not to die, because yes… definitely Catholics…

“Oh…”

Now let’s be clear…  I’m pretty sure the RCL (publically released in 1994, although preceded by others and tracing the history of reading common texts all the way back to the early church) is not synonymous with salvation (sigh of relief for all the people who were born and died before I was in high school), but I do want to underscore the significance of commonality in community, because we live in a culture steeped in individualism, and I think there’s something to the idea that God might actually be saying the same things to all of us. 

This helps to dispel the “us and them” myth.  It brings us together as one people.  It makes us a village as opposed to an island.  Maybe it even fosters compassion for the other, because it’s more difficult to turn away from our brothers and sisters when we’re looking at their faces, and we do that when we’re gathered in the same sacred space—physically present or not.  Maybe that’s (at least part of) why continuity matters…

 
L.

Love the Church

After spending five days immersed in the quadrennial family reunion that is General Assembly, I came home and crashed before 9:30pm and slept all night (11 hours straight).  If you know me, you also know this is outlandishly strange.  I'm exhausted.

In recent days, I have made a concerted effort to curb the sarcasm and frustration and to discard the cynicism altogether.  I’m making progress.  I had exactly three moments, this week, when I felt that I absolutely must share my frustration in the social media world.  Two of them were entirely justified and the other was actually more of an opportunity to discuss how we might do better in the future, so I’m going to move that one from the ‘eye roll column’ to the ‘be a part of the solution column.’

We do have to do better, but we also have to love the Church.

Scratch that.  Perhaps we have to do better, because we love the Church.

And I mean the Church, universal, but I also mean whatever small part of the Church in which we happen to find ourselves—the ‘big C’ Church and the ‘little c’ church. 

And friends… this can be hard for me.

It hasn’t always been hard.  There’s always been a struggle of sorts, but in earlier days it was a struggle for the church, not against her.  And then life happened.  And then some more life happened.  And I did, indeed, find myself in a place where my story resonated far too deeply with all the other stories of people who have suffered hurt at the hands of the church.

Interestingly, though, I’m not too interested in living that particular narrative anymore.  I’d rather live into the one where I love the Church so much I will kick and scream and fight to remain a part of her, precisely because I do have something to offer, precisely because I can be a part of the ‘better.’

That’s not me patting myself on the back, please don’t misunderstand.  But, shouldn’t we all want this?  Shouldn’t we all desire to be a part of the body that functions and loves and redeems?  My tribe is focusing on Ephesians 4 as we participate in conventions and assembly:

“As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received.  Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.  Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace.  There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called;  one Lord, one faith, one baptism;  one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all” (v. 4-6, NIV).

In a world where we often have divergent beliefs and opinions, even among those whom we love deeply; unity in diversity can be an enormous challenge.  But maybe we could sit with this for just awhile.  Maybe, we could truly embrace, “In essentials unity, in non-essentials liberty, in all things love” (often attributed to Augustine but modified over the years by enough people that it is difficult to source…  I most recently heard it quoted by the character of Phineas Bresee in a movie about his life, which I was privileged to watch at its premiere on Saturday afternoon).

I’m not sure any of us has time to argue about things that don’t matter that much when there is so much work to be done, not to be perfect, but just to be better…

L.

My Heart Hurts

I’m honestly not sure how much more my heart can take, this week.  It is raw.

It’s Sacramental Saturday at FGT, and I am dumbfounded, because I spent hours, yesterday, worshipping with people from my tribe who are deeply devoted to worship that includes (and is very often centered around) the Eucharistic meal and the grace it imparts, instituted by Jesus, commanded of us if we seek to both properly remember his death and go out, filled with his life.

This morning, one of the first things I saw was an angry message indicating that I do not, in fact, respect or take the Catholic Church seriously, because I participate in the Eucharist.  After doing my very best to answer this concern with grace and love, I just sat down and cried (OK…  let’s be real…  I didn’t actually wait to cry.  I cried as I typed the response.  Then I cried some more.  And some more.  And some more.)

I would think that I’m pretty close to out of tears, but they just keep coming.  Some have been good: Some have been terrible.  At the very least, the floodgates are damaged, but I am beginning to think they have washed away, altogether.

But at least I’m broken.  It’s necessary if we want to be like Jesus.

L.

I’m Not Trying to Proof-text, But…

I have to be honest.  I woke up, this morning, upset about immigration reform.  Before I had even made my cup of coffee (and this is a big deal, because I haven’t had coffee in weeks), I was already thinking about what could be done to bring some compassion, mercy, and reason to this process that seems to have imploded overnight.  I knew, when I sat down to read through the daily office, that I might project my feelings about this onto the Scriptures.  Maybe I’ve done just that.  If you think so, go ahead and call me out.

Last night I saw something that indicated that the vast majority of people (I think a study showed 92% or so) don’t actually care what clergy have to say about social justice.  This falls squarely on us.  This is a failure of clergy and the Church at large.  I apologize.

I read Psalm 55.  The whole Psalm is certainly worth your time, but here are a few verses that stood out to me:

“Lord, confuse the wicked, confound their words, for I see violence and strife in the city.  Day and night they prowl about on its walls; malice and abuse are within it.  Destructive forces are at work in the city; threats and lies never leave its streets” (v. 9-11, NIV).

Then, Mark 7:1-23.  Again, I would highly suggest reading all of it, but for the purposes of this post:

“‘These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me.  They worship me in vain; their teachings are merely human rules’” (v. 7, NIV).

“Thus you nullify the word of God by your tradition that you have handed down. And you do many things like that” (v. 13, NIV).

“Are you so dull?” he asked. “Don’t you see that nothing that enters a person from the outside can defile them?” (v. 18, NIV).

“He went on: ‘What comes out of a person is what defiles them.  For it is from within, out of a person’s heart, that evil thoughts come—sexual immorality, theft, murder,  adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly.  All these evils come from inside and defile a person’” (v. 20-23, NIV).   

May God help us, we seem to have forgotten that the problems we have are internal ones.  In Scripture, this is almost always the way it goes down.  Jesus confronts those who are on the inside—those who live in comfort and prosperity.  Far too often, the response is, “Oh, it’s not me.  It’s not us.  Look at all of those dirty outsiders.  Heck, Jesus.  It’s you.  You are the problem!  Leave us alone so we might build our walls of protection and exclusion in order to be safe!”

Safe from whom?

Quite frankly, I have experienced more backstabbing from within the walls than from outside of them.  This is always… always… where I get myself into trouble with people who identify as religious.  Many years ago, when our family started saying things like, “Everyone is welcome here,” we found out rather quickly that this was a sore spot for the religious elite.  Interestingly, we have suffered abuses at the hands of those who hold themselves in high esteem, but I know quite a few drug dealers, prostitutes, widows, orphans, inmates, and people riddled with disease who would give me the shirt off their backs if I needed it.  Something is wrong with this picture.  Really, really wrong.

Now, I want to be extremely clear that I am not comparing refugees to any of those listed in the categories above.  If there is any comparison to be made, it is simply that we have marginalized them as people.  That’s my point here.  We have decided that they are somehow worth less than we are, because they are unlike us.  Even though they are fleeing in fear for the sake of their lives and their families, we are the ones who are afraid of them.  But I can’t figure it out, because it’s backwards.   We should have no fear of what is outside of ‘the wall.’  The evil comes from within.

My heart is so broken, today.  As I have indicated before, one of the biggest dangers in this is that I will think I have done something to help just by being sad.  Please, let’s not fall into that trap.  I have a friend who is an immigration attorney, and I am anxiously awaiting her suggestion for how to move forward with some practical steps to make a difference.  In the meantime, I have an online friend (who is friends in real life with people I know personally) who offers great insight into what is happening with Syrian refuges in Hungary, where she lives.  Her blog can be found here.  It both touches and breaks my heart every time I read it.

I certainly don’t know everything about every organization that is reputable, but I know that if you donate to Nazarene Compassionate Ministries at this link, the funds actually go to help Syrian refugees, in Hungary, right now.

I hope to have word on an action plan that will make a difference locally, in the near future.  For me, it’s a both/and proposal.  Help now, where you can.  Keep helping as new opportunities arise.  And then, when you’ve done something practical, it’s OK to break down in tears for awhile over our brothers and sisters, over their babies, over the sad state of a world in which the people on the inside don’t understand that we are the problem.

 
L.