reflections on a Christian life

I used to give the simple definition of an evangelical as “someone whose parents were fundamentalists”.  It seemed to fit at the time.  There were various flavors of church history that I’d picked up from sermons and Sunday school classes.  The one consistent theme was that we were the group that had persevered since Pentecost whereas other denominations have lost the true teaching or diluted their message with the social gospel.  Of course, this was church history according to the fundamentalists (Conservative Baptists in my case).  The denominational splits were always necessary in order to preserve true Biblical belief and practice.  That seemed to be how things progressed through the mid 60s.  It was during the late 60s and 70s with the explosion of the boomer young adults that the relevance of denominations declined dramatically.  Churches sprang up around a pastor and those churches spawned their own clones so we now have Calvary Chapels, Willow Creek Associates, Vineyards, etc.  The denominational churches, feeling left behind by this trend gradually deemphasized their affiliations and many have dropped the name “Baptist” or “Presbyterian” from their title.  The idea, I think, is to disassociate from the negative stereotype non- Christians in particular might connect with the name.

Now if I walk into a church and ask about its history, I’ll hear about a legacy that counts back a couple years to a home Bible study or splinter group from some other local church.  The church will be defined by the style of the pastor, the style of worship, the quality of the youth group, and the range of “help” programs.  I’m lost looking for rootedness in organizations that are peddling relevance.

Maybe that’s why my kids are now Anglicans- they concluded that it would be better to align with a historical faith and practice rather than try to build a foundation under the latest pop “American Christian” trend.  Although I wince under the ecclesiastical hierarchy, I am thankful for the way it has preserved the God centered practice of worship.  Spiritual significance is infused in every activity of the service and through the church calendar. 

 The contrasts abound:

There, supplicants receive communion.  Here, we take communion.  There, the word of God is held up before the congregation and read.   Here, it is flashed on a video projector to supplement the points the pastor intends to make.  There, prayers are offered from the book of common prayer- intercessory pleas that have been poured over and refined to so that one may come before God in a theologically correct posture and conversation.   Here, the prayer is impromptu or a recap of the sermon – an opportunity to make sure that after 40 minutes of lecture we might come away with something useful.   Which is to say that here, the sermon is definitely the main event- in spite of any protestations otherwise.  Part standup comedy, part pep talk, with video or audience participation thrown in, the pastor does his darndest to keep our attention- as opposed to a homily that focuses briefly and earnestly on a single Biblical truth or passage and on many Sundays is connected to the proscribed plan in the church calendar.   For them, the main event is receiving communion which is certainly the climax of the worship rather than a supplemental monthly ritual the either forces an extended service or a shortened pastoral message.  And the calendar: well- we do the advent wreath during December and we do Palm Sunday (an opportunity to parade the children’s program into the auditorium with fronds) and Easter.  Ascension Sunday? Pentecost? What are those? And Lent? That’s a Catholic thing- we’re under grace!   If I hear about how the good Friday Service is going to be “fun” again next year I think I’ll just skip it an stay home to watch “The Passion”.

What keeps me here?

The Church.  The Church is the body of Christ and I can’t just decide that I want to hang out with others.  Our unity is in Christ, not in our zip code, economic status, life stage, or worship style preferences.  Yes, I have switched churches on occasion – usually associated with relocations.  When, after one relocation, I moved back to a community and didn’t resume attendance in our old church, I lost something as a result- a connection to brothers and sisters who would walk with me and worship with me in spite of differences or past hurts.

So I continue to worship and fellowship where I am.  If there is opportunity to encourage change or call people to a different way, I’ll try to do it gently.

Calvin deployed to Afghanistan last month.  It is his third deployment in the past 5 years.  Soon Janet will resume her weekly trips to the post office with supplies of coffee, peanut butter and magazines.    We once again go about our daily routine shadowed by a nagging uncertainty.  Each phone call home is a marker that declares, “so far, so good.”  But it doesn’t bring any assurance of the future.

Calvin is unmarried and unattached.  At the drop off on base, there were fiancés, wives and children lingering, wanting to stretch the departure and shorten the separation.  We said our goodbyes and he turned his attention to the last minute details necessary to ensure his company was ready.  He leaves behind his parents, sisters, aunts & uncles, cousins and friends.  He has been larger than life and filled our homes with his passion, enthusiasm, generosity and friendship.  We’d gladly exchange the pride in knowing he is serving in harm’s way for his presence in our living room, sleeping on our couch or taking in a NY Giants game.

We might consider ourselves singled out for some special burden- but that would assume too much.   I’ve come to understand that the cocoon that encases us has stunted our understanding of this world and the harsh realities of life.

There is a climactic exchange in Stephen King’s novel, Desperation.  The young boy in the story, David, having already lost his sister and mother in a battle against evil, has just seen his father die.  Johnny is a washed up writer about to redeem himself through an act of final self-sacrifice:

“Is God in you?” David asked.  “Can you feel him in there, Johnny? Like a hand?  Or a fire?”

“Yes,” Johnny said.

“Then you won’t take this wrong.”  David spit into his face.  It was warm on the skin below Johnny’s eyes, like tears.

Johnny made no effort to wipe away the boy’s spittle.  “Listen to me David.  I’m going to tell you something you didn’t hear from your minister or your Bible.  For all I know it’s a message from God himself.  Are you listening?”

David only looked at him, saying nothing.

“You said ’God is cruel’ the way a person who’s lived his whole life on Tahiti might say ‘Snow is cold.’  You knew, but you didn’t understand.”  He stepped close to David and put his palms on the boy’s cold cheeks.  “Do you know how cruel your God can be, David?  How fantastically cruel?”

David waited saying nothing.  Maybe listening, maybe not.  Johnny couldn’t tell.

“Sometimes he makes you live.”

I expect every soldier has struggled with the question, “why him and not me?”  I know Calvin has seen enough tragedy.   The fresh troops greeted by a mortar on their arrival at the FOB, his bunkmate who left behind his grieving bride to be and parents.  Perhaps the bitterest experience was returning to his room to see his NY Giants blanket returned by his buddy that morning prior to going out on patrol.  Their playful trash talk was escalating in anticipation of the weekend NY/Washington game.  News had come in during the day that Randy’s lower half was blown away while following orders on an ill planned mission.  He wouldn’t be taking his young son to any Redskin’s game after the tour

Is this God’s cruelty?   Or are we trapped in our own expectations of what ought to be?  What kind of God walked this earth during the Roman occupation of Israel and did not confront tyranny?  Instead of raising John the Baptist to life, Jesus merely wept at the news of his beheading.  Although he overturned the tables in the temple square, he did not return to ensure that they were not back in business the next day.  Christ didn’t fix the world.  He left a band of followers who would experience persecution and death and his apostles would invite us to share in his suffering even as they called us to know his peace.  To identify with Christ is to experience a fallen world and to be a source of redemption.  It is not to barricade oneself in a fortress of safety, skirting risk and exposure until our deliverance.

Singing the hymn “How Great Thou Art” used to transport me to the Adirondack wilderness by the upper Hudson River where I spent many nights alone with God.  I saw God’s greatness in his creation.  It was a refuge from the intrusion of cares and the inconvenience of real people who might break the mood.  Lately, the same hymn brings visuals of dusty scenes from Iraq and Afghanistan and my son moving through the grind of another day on patrol, pouring over target images and maps, slogging through mud on a primitive FOB, grieving over a buddy who will not be coming home.  Yes, God is great and that greatness is so much more than the created world.  His greatness takes in the full sweep of mankind, of good and evil, of kindness and treachery.   His goodness is better and his power is greater than any has yet understood.  It is not just in the extremes of the beauty of creation or the tragedy of war.  It also envelops my simple world of commuting, meetings, conference calls, encounters in the neighborhood and occasional escapes on my surfboard.   This reality is to be comprehended by those who live in him whether they experience wealth or poverty, oppression or liberty.  To live in him is to comprehend the desperation of a world in need of Christ and to walk in that world bathed in Christ’s goodness.

God’s fantastic cruelty is love.  I tremble at the thought of fully experiencing that love.  I’d rather keep my fond memories and cherished comforts.  But the history of God’s people is one of his sustaining love through all of human experience, transcending death itself.

Another deployment

Another time of waiting

“I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning…for with the Lord is unfailing love”

That was the title of the Francis Schaeffer book that had just hit the shelves with accompanying 13 week study guides and, for those who were introducing cutting edge technology: VHS tapes featuring Francis himself wandering through St. Peters.  I was sitting in the discussion group across the circle from a Bible college student I was trying to impress and arguing that Schaeffer may have a few nits to pick with Aquinas but was no match for the man’s genius.   Welcome to adult Sunday School:  There are no grades or required reading and the hierarchy of expertise is in descending order: the guy on the tape, then the teacher, then anyone else who wants to talk.  If you are lucky, there are folks who will tactfully steer the discussion toward requiring some Biblical basis for the claims being asserted.

I was between college and grad school, working as a junior alchemist and paying discounted rent at my folks new home.  My uncle was an elder at my new church, which was helpful, as he had to run interference for me a few times when my name came up in their meetings.   We had a college and career group that would meet on Sunday evenings that we all took turns leading.  Once in a while we’d end up in a box, like the time we were discussing the necessity of salvation and a girl refused to give up her position that God wouldn’t let people go to hell but she couldn’t identify any scripture on which to build her case.  Sometimes we wandered into the flake, like when a guy started out in Ecclesiastes and wanted to segue to the contemplation of life on other planets.

The Bible college student (and Christian bookstore girl), who I would eventually marry, had given me a CS Lewis book, Letters to Malcolm, Chiefly Concerning Prayer– since I was having trouble connecting my experience with the stories others would relate.  I was going through life making decisions about jobs, school, relationships without any “calling” or deep conviction that I was doing exactly the thing God wanted for me.  It was some reassurance that I had a prof in College who described God’s will as a dune buggy ride rather than a railroad track- but it would be nice to be driving the dune buggy during the day or at least with the headlights on.

One of the more frustrating situations, was a young adult Sunday School class on a pop book called “The Christian Employee”.  I couldn’t easily skip the class since the group was small and I was pretty outspoken.  It as taught by a godly, successful, corporate middle manager, about the age of my parents.  He shared experiences of how early in his marriage, he bought his wife a piano that he couldn’t afford but was able to pay it off as his career advanced and how once he had a terrible boss who was temporarily transferred out of his department.  During the time the boss was away, everyone got raises.  I mean, it was all wonderful that this happened for him, but how was I supposed to reconcile that with the missionary who just got shot and killed leaving his wife and two children behind?

I think sometimes we get caught up in some Old Testament model of Patriarchal blessing- Abraham with his flocks and armies, David with his conquests and power.  Sometimes we mash secular success with spiritual success- if you’re a Christian athlete, you’re the captain and leading your team to the championship, if you are a Christian businessman, you are fast tracking your way to the corner office and financial independence- any setbacks are temporary and make your later success that much sweeter and your testimony that much more inspirational.

I’m not buying it…I don’t think being a Christian Employee means that we get anything in return.  Sometimes we do, sometimes we don’t.   Even if the percentages are in favor of material rewards and recognition for being a good employee, should we take comfort in the percentages?   The hard truth is that we are in a spiritual battle and we are sustained in this life by Christ himself.  He has declared that HE is sufficient for us.  Those things we cherish in life – our possessions, recognition, health and happiness, reward for achievement or loyal service, easily prove to be distractions which deceive us in to thinking that they are necessary and deserved.

Yes, I still want success; I want recognition; I want a comfortable life- but if I make that my goal, I’m shoving Christ to the side and if I let others think “God will do this for you too”, I’m feeding them an inferior hope.

TrappedInEvangelicalism looks at life from the perspective of a struggling Christian – who sometimes doesn’t think he fits and sometimes is afraid he fits too well into the subculture called “Evangelicalism”.  Sometimes affectionate, sometimes self loathing, sometimes disappointed, sometimes angry, sometimes encouraged – yet, in Christ, persevering.