The Good Christian Persecution Complex
Hey there bloggerati! It’s been a while. I’m afraid this months blogging effort has lapsed far behind others but I’m telling myself there’s a good reason for that. I’ve finished the first major redraft of a book I’m ghostwriting. I got a short-notice request for a coffee-table book of layman-friendly research articles that ate through a week, and in between, there has been man-flu, 2-year old molars and various kinds of growth spurts to hit Casa-Kennedy. In amongst this, something has been burning in my mind: the good Christian Persecution Complex. I want to take a moment to talk about it.
The truth is, it has been on my mind because we’ve been covering my least favourite book of the Bible at church recently: The Book of Revelation.
I hate it. I think I was put off it when I viewed a Kirk Douglas rapture film of some description when I was a touch too young, and thus my yearning for writings regarding apocalyptic prophecy died then and there. But there’s no denying it. Revelation exists. The powers that be saw fit to put it in the final cut of the Bible. So we’ve got to look at it, right? Nestled in Revelation chapter 2 is a reference to the church of Smyrna: the persecuted church. In his letter to the Smyrnaans, John encourages them not to fear prison, tribulation, poverty, or blasphemy, and promises they will overcome “the second death” and be given the crown of life. (Rev 2:12ff). Now, this is a beautiful note of encouragement to the persecuted church. But here is my strong feeling on it: we can’t call any opposition we might experience ‘persecution’. And perhaps not for the reasons you think.
Discomfort and bullying vs. persecution proper
Persecution is defined as “hostility and ill-treatment, especially because of race or political or religious beliefs; oppression.” Among its synonyms are victimization, maltreatment, abuse, tyrannisation, torture, torment, discrimination and other such terms. Over the course of the last five or so years, I’ve observed a lot of good Christians cry “persecution” when someone challenges their ideals on Facebook (which, oddly, seems to be where ‘real-life’ plays out these days. Weird.). While I do concede that cyberbullying is very real and also agree that for some, it takes real guts and incites real anxiety when they put their faith out there for the world to judge, I do have to offer up a caution: we can’t claim the martyrs crown because someone disagreed with our belief system.
Society is becoming increasingly pluralistic if you ask me. We don’t have one faith that everyone needs to subscribe to anymore and thus we can expect a bit more pushback when we say things like “Because the Bible says so.” Even if we look at Christianity alone, there are increasingly diverse ways of looking at our individual and collective efforts at following Christ. Two people who are well-educated, well-read and genuinely searching for the best way to live a Christian life can arrive at two very different conclusions. This means a lot of people can disagree with us, and even within the Christian faith alone, a lot of us can disagree with each other.
The results can often mean conflict, even nasty conflict. But here in this complicated and uncomfortable zone lies a truth we need to acknowledge: Discomfort, bullying and persecution aren’t the same things.
For clarity, I’ll offer up a qualification here: bullying is bad! I’m not a fan of bullying! Don’t do it. Don’t take part it in. Don’t stay silent if you witness it and can safely speak up and help the target. But don’t equate it with persecution. There may be overlap, but it is not the same thing. Persecution is often systematic and wide-spread. Bullying is more often one on one. Persecution involves large groups or power structures bearing down on minorities or marginalised people. Bullying is more targetted and nuanced. Persecution may involve bullying, but the reverse isn’t necessarily true.
And then there is discomfort. Discomfort is good sometimes. I’ve heard countless motivational speakers remind us that no growth happens inside our comfort zone, and I have to agree! We shouldn’t fear discomfort. It is part of life and sometimes good things come out of it! Persecution, however, is crushing, life-altering, and in so many cases, life-threatening. Open Doors USA, an organisation that exists for persecuted Christians, has this to say on the matter: “While Christian persecution takes many forms, it is defined as any hostility experienced as a result of identification with Jesus Christ. From Sudan to Russia, from Nigeria to North Korea, from Colombia to India, followers of Christianity are targeted for their faith. They are attacked; they are discriminated against at work and at school; they risk sexual violence, torture, arrest and much more.
In just the last year*, there have been:
Over 245 million Christians living in places where they experience high levels of persecution
4,305 Christians killed for their faith
1,847 churches and other Christian buildings attacked.
3,150 believers detained without trial, arrested, sentenced or imprisoned.”
These numbers are mind-boggling. But a further look into them (which came from the 2019 World Watch List) is this: Saudi Arabia didn’t even crack the top ten in terms of persecution against Christians. China didn’t crack the top twenty. The United Arab Emirates sat at number 45. Open Doors only carried the top 50 countries in terms of persecution on their list: The United States of America, Australia, and Great Britain did not make the list. Yet, at least from my observation, there is a growing idea that Evangelical Christians are being persecuted, and we seem to buy into this rhetoric all too easily.
The idea that we, in our privilege as some of the richest nations on earth, with our human rights advancements, our employment anti-discrimination laws, and our religious freedom acts, might be persecuted ignores the very real systematic targeting of our Christian brothers and sisters in other countries like North Korea, Somalia and Afghanistan – places where confessing Jesus as your saviour may cost you your life or your safety and livelihood.
The worst I will face here, in my white Judeo-Christian privilege, is someone calling me names on the internet. Bullying or harassment, but not high-level stuff that makes me legitimately fear for my safety. Not systematic torture, displacement and even murder of my people. I feel for those who face bullying because of the effects it has on them. I pray for them because that hurt is real. But it isn’t necessarily persecution and its unhelpful to confuse the two.
I have to make another distinction here: there may be many of us who have faced a bit of harassment, especially online, because of a “Christian” argument. This could be taken as a lesser form of persecution, and perhaps it is, but if you don’t have to worry that someone will even find out that you are a Christian (regardless of your thoughts on certain doctrines or current events), the odds are you aren’t being persecuted. I used to get called a “churchy” at work. I learned to take it in good humour. Later on, there was a swear jar at work put up for people who swore around me (because their assumption was that I would be offended. If only they hung around me now!) It made me a bit awkward in the beginning but then I took part in the game. I’ve been involved in my share of debates, but when I changed my posture from one of dogma to one of debate (with a particular bent towards connection and understanding rather than making the other person wrong), I found the world was a much softer place than I originally thought.
Why am I pointing it out? For a couple of reasons. One is that it is sometimes the abrasiveness in the delivery of our message that gets peoples backs up. People sense when someone is trying to make them wrong, and automatically defend their status quo. But the second reason is one that I find gravely concerning – There is a difference between persecution and the persecution complex. Both are harmful, one unspeakably so. But the persecution complex is something that can isolate and divide unnecessarily, especially if a person believes they are suffering persecution when they aren’t.
As I said a few paragraphs up, I’ve seen Christians cry persecution over Facebook stoushes they willingly waded into. I’ve seen mindboggling claims that the President of the United States is being persecuted (i.e. victimized on an international scale). Like…wow! While repeated efforts at convincing an unwilling world of an unpopular opinion (especially on social media) may reap repeated disagreements or arguments that certainly have a negative effect on a person’s state of mind, it is not necessarily persecution. Nor do I think you can claim persecution when you are the most powerful man in the free world. Holding that position of privilege is the antithesis of persecution.
Of late, I’ve started listening a little harder to my friends who are people of colour, or who belong to the LGBTQ+ community. I’ve been confronted by something I noticed here: we straight, white, cis-gendered, Judeo-Christian, middle-class westerners can be blissfully unaware of our own profound privilege and, by virtue of this, confuse the loss of that privilege with persecution. A better word for what we are feeling would be, I don’t know, crestfallen? Uncomfortable? But systematically victimized and oppressed, not so much. We might find ourselves needing to learn resilience a bit more, but the answer to this problem is compassion and self-development not fear.
Alan Noble, in an article for The Atlantic, pointed out some very real flaws in the evangelical tendency to buy into the persecution complex. He said: “Persecution has an allure for many evangelicals. In the Bible, Christians are promised by Saint Paul that they will suffer for Christ, if they love Him (Second Timothy 3:12). But especially in contemporary America, it is not clear what shape that suffering will take. Narratives of political, cultural, and theological oppression are popular in evangelical communities, but these are sometimes fiction or deeply exaggerated non-fiction—and only rarely accurate. This is problematic: If evangelicals want to have a persuasive voice in a pluralist society, a voice that can defend Christians from serious persecution, then we must be able to discern accurately when we are truly victims of oppression—and when this victimization is only imagined.”
But the last thing I want readers of this article to do is mock those who are suffering from a persecution complex. Here’s why:
The Persecution Complex is a Worrying Mental Delusion
The Merriam-Webster Complex Medical Dictionary calls it “the feeling of being persecuted especially without basis in reality.” In individuals, the persecution complex may be called a persecutory delusion and fall within a range of “delusional disorders’ in the DSM V (the diagnostic handbook of the psychological profession). In groups though, it is an interesting and perhaps dangerous phenomenon. I found a study resource online that helpfully described a persecution complex in the following way: “A persecution complex is a type of delusion. A delusion is a fixed, irrational belief that one is convinced is true despite evidence to the contrary. In the case of people suffering with delusions of persecution, the fixed irrational belief is that others are plotting against and/or following them. Signs that someone may be struggling with a persecution delusion include:
Increased isolation.
Paranoid behaviors
Verbal statements that make little sense or are not rational.
An increase in angry outbursts.”
If we were to witness this in a friend, we would have the right to be very concerned. But with the rise of cultural and political discourse in the public sphere (i.e. media), it isn’t uncommon for people to face off against a strong or emotive and opposing viewpoint. When this hit to the ego (and we all have an ego, or a sense of self) is combined with a persecution complex, things can get ugly.
So what happens when a group of people holds to the same ideals and experiences similar opposition? You have the potential for a group persecution complex to develop. You have the potential for the group to isolate itself, to believe society is against it, to develop an “us versus them” mentality, and for verbal statements rooted in the persecution delusion to be met with confirmation bias and thus become part of groups’ folklore. My fear is that this can then become the narrative of their lived experience and entrench the persecutory delusion even further.
Let me be real here: this is a terrible situation. Imagine believing society is against you, and the only people who truly understand you are part of a particular group. Imagine constantly thinking everything people write online is geared at you. Imagine the mental and emotional toll that would take. I could unpack this a lot further but I hope the case is clear: Even if the persecution is imagined, the effects of the persecution complex can be very, very real.
What do we do about it? I can’t give you all the answers, because I’m certainly not the authority on this issue. I write this for awareness and reflection more than anything. But I can say this: start with compassion. Regardless of whether someone is going through persecution proper or experiencing a persecution complex, something is going down here. You can’t fix the former easily. You can pray, and donate to good causes. You can be part of organisations working to end persecution. But if a friend of yours is experiencing a persecution complex, you can’t tell them they’re idiots and should get over it. That may just reinforce the delusion.
There could be something a lot deeper going on. The persecution complex isn’t uncommon in cults. It can also be part of mental illness. It may simply be a way of externalising some deep internal unrest. Either way, its tough stuff. It might require professional help to shift.
Approach it with care. But know this: we can’t fix a problem if we can’t accurately diagnose it. If it isn’t persecution, if its a persecution complex, then the system isn’t the problem. The problem is a lot closer to home.
Just some thoughts! Hopefully thats writer’s block out of the way! lol. I’ll return next week friends!
The Israel Folau Debacle: Why This Isn’t a Holy War
“Don’t write an article on Israel Folau” I told myself. “Don’t do it. Don’t do it.” Which is all well and good but I knew I *had* to do it. Especially when I saw this article and others about religious freedoms. It seems this has sparked a whole lot of panic over the rights of Christians to practice their faith. I even saw whispers of proposals for a so-called “Folau Bill” to be put before Parliament. I couldn’t find the article when I looked for it again so I’m hoping its dead in the water. But I felt compelled to write today because there is a whole lot of fearmongering out there about what this means for Christians.
Here’s the answer: it means nothing.
On the 8th of May, Peter Fitzsimmons wrote a piece for the Sydney Morning Herald dispelling the 6 worst misconceptions about the Folau Case (which, for the uninformed, was a Rugby Player violating his code of conduct by posting an inflammatory statement vilifying homosexuals and others on Instagram. He has since been stood down by Rugby Australia for that violation). Common sense is out there, like Fitzsimmons wrote in this article which everyone should read (I’ll wait…).
But so far common sense has taken a back seat to cries of “we’re not free anymore” from the Christian Right. Don’t let Fitzsimmons tone of “Do I seriously have to explain this again” deter you. Underneath that, there are some well-made points.
Here is my take on it: I was blissfully unaware that this time a year ago, Folau did a similar thing. It caused a stir that lasted three weeks and threw Rugby Australia under the bus. In their handling of the case, it is alleged that Folau was warned against doing it again as it broke their code of conduct. The caution was given and then business resumed as normal.
But then he did it again. This time, the meltdown has been much longer than three weeks.
The fact is that this is not about religious freedom or freedom of speech. The core issue is about employee-employer relations. And its reasonable. I have friends who worked for councils during local council elections. It was against their code of conduct to post about their preferences because they were employees and needed to stay apolitical. I have friends who work in the public service. None of them post anything that would bring their branch of it into disrepute. I am sensitive to the political atmosphere that surrounds my line of work, so I stay away from anything that would draw it into the mire. This is not encroaching on any of our rights to free speech. All of us could break the implicit or explicit code of conduct if we chose to. We would not be free from the consequences of it though, and that would be reasonable. A reasonable employee knows they need to uphold the reputation and values of their company.
What makes Folau’s case so special? 1) Because the Christian Right seem to have made him a martyr for the so-called cause of Christ and 2) Because he was supposedly making statements on his own Instagram feed – i.e. away from work. This raised the question over whether our employers could take action based on what we do away from work.
Well if it violates their code of conduct, if it brings their brand or business into disrepute, and especially if the person in question has already been warned, then I’d say yes, they can. But I would argue that Izzy Folau wasn’t away from work when he made the post. Allow me to explain:
Folau, as a player in a major sport, has amassed many followers. It would only be an extraordinarily (perhaps wilfully) naïve player that was unaware that they are role models to that following. Rugby Australia hasn’t been without its challenges on the actions of players, but each of these seems to have been met with various attempts at just responses. Folau’s is no exception, apart from that the potential damage was done not to one person but to a group of people who have already got a raised likelihood of depression and anxiety.
A predictable perk of sporting fame is the social media following it seems to attract. This following was made possible because of Folau’s Rugby fame. Sure, he would have had some followers, but not the 364,000 he has at the time of writing. The majority of them follow him because of his sport, not his faith. While Folau may be tempted to use this platform to evangelise that number of people, he needs to remember it’s a following basically handed to him by his Rugby career. It is completely reasonable for this crowd to be offended by such ranty, legalistic posts as the one that caused the stir.
Currently “Social media influencer” is a job in and of itself. SM influencers can be paid in the thousands if they have a much, much smaller following than Folau. But the thing is Folau’s social media following is tied directly to his career as an athlete. So are his sponsorships.
What am I saying? Folau wasn’t away from work. His social media activity is part of it. Rugby Australia, and the majority of Australia it seems, kicked up a stink not because of Folau’s Christianity, but because we are really sick of the whole “let’s use the Bible to target LGBTI+ people.” I say “we” because I am right there with those who feel that way. Its Pride Month, so my next post will tell you about why. Anyway…
The Freedom of Speech Issue
There are some Christians and Christian groups who took this as an assault on Freedom of Speech and Religion, and this has sadly left them open to fear that Australia isn’t the beautifully free place to live, love and practice our faith. This is an absolute fallacy. Why? Check out what else the UN has to say about the right to free speech (remembering that article 19 is the free speech bit):
Article 29:
“(1) Everyone has duties to the community in which alone the free and full development of his personality is possible.
(2) In the exercise of his rights and freedoms, everyone shall be subject only to such limitations as are determined by law solely for the purpose of securing due recognition and respect for the rights and freedoms of others and of meeting the just requirements of morality, public order and the general welfare in a democratic society.
(3) These rights and freedoms may in no case be exercised contrary to the purposes and principles of the United Nations.”
What does this mean? Our right to free speech is balanced by our responsibility to the community. We can’t just cherry pick the bits that let us say what we want. If it victimises, targets, vilifies or puts at risk another group, then its not okay. If it makes it difficult for another persons personality to develop fully (as I’d argue homophobia in churches does), then we have a responsibility to adjust our expectations of “freedom.” If the community kicks back, then that is fine. It is to be expected. We can’t just say what we want and call it religious freedom. We have to be considerate of others. Ironically, that is what I believe Jesus would want us to do. Show love. Show compassion.
Anyway…
Fitzsimmons put it this way: “While he [Folau] has broad freedom of speech, he has no freedom from consequences. Secondly, those who are howling loudest about freedom of speech for Israel – Alan Jones et al – are precisely those who howled loudest against the likes of Yassmin Abdel-Magid – who tweeted on Anzac Day 2017 we should also reflect on Manus Island. Ditto, when Scott McIntyre tweeted his own views about the Anzacs and those who commemorated Anzac Day, there was not a single peep out of them about his rights to freedom of speech. They wanted him sacked from SBS, and he was.”
Again, we can’t just cherry pick the bits that suit us and kick up a stink when other peoples right to freedom (of speech, religion, and development of personality) is at odds with what we want.
The Freedom of Religion Issue
There have been those like Jones who believe Folau is under attack for being a Christian. This, to be honest, is ridiculous. This isn’t Folau’s first ride on the homophobia bandwagon. Rugby Australia have had to deal with this before and they did not fire him straight away. If they were anti-Christian, then they’ve already had a chance to be rid of him and didn’t take it. They have made no anti-Christian comments. The community may have, but there are a couple of points I feel compelled to raise to rebut this:
We can’t get caught up in the Facebook discussions on this. Comment sections on news articles have always been and will continue to be where mud is slung and anger is vented. It does not reflect the policies of Rugby Australia or of the Australian government where discrimination based on religion, sexuality or gender is not allowed.
The rage vented against Christians who have defended Folau is likely to be, in a good many cases, based on the fact that the community is sick of the carry-on. Marriage Equality passed because the majority of Australia felt it should. It passed because the majority of Australia believed that love is love and that LGBTI+ people deserved equality in every manner. We can’t be surprised about at people’s lividness that such judgements still exist.
I get that Folau’s motivation may have been evangelism and not hate speech. That’s all well and good, but it all came out the same. There are better ways to reach people than to scream from the loudest megaphone we have that “you are going to hell.” My personal take on it is that we should follow Jesus because He is/was God and set us the ultimate example of love, not because we are afraid of what He’ll do to us if we don’t (which is a topic for yet another day).
If Folau, nobly, felt that preaching fire and brimstone would be an excellent witness for Christ, I’d counter that it isn’t. It simply entrenches attitudes that the church is nasty and out of touch.
On the final point, Pastor Brian Houston (of Hillsong fame) had this to say:
As Christians it is equally important to look at ourselves and our own failings and imperfections,” Houston wrote for the Sydney Morning Herald. “If you look at the list of sins that Izzy listed there’s not too many people he’s left out, including Christians. There isn’t a person on earth who hasn’t told a lie or put something before God (idolatry). In 40 years of telling people about the good news of Jesus, I have seen that the ‘turn or burn’, approach to proclaiming the message of Christianity alienates people. Scaring people doesn’t draw them into the love of Jesus. The world doesn’t need more judgmental Christians.”
Its a point well made. As a Christian, my gentle challenge for all of us is to recognise that legalistic, narrow minded, homophobic rants do nothing to further the cause of Christianity which has always been and will always be to disrupt the status quo with love and draw people closer to God. My gentle encouragement to everyone else is “Be encouraged. Christian Progressives do exist. We are just quieter than the far right for now, but we are finding our voice.”
Australia is a great place to live, love and practice faith. We are free here, to live as our conscience and faith demands. We are not free from the consequences of our actions, nor should we be. Because Jesus, who sat with society’s outcasts and gave his life for all, is not represented well by fear-mongering and exclusion. The irony is that Jesus was looked down upon by the religious establishments of His day because He was inclusive. Yet many of the religious establishments of today seem to look down on inclusiveness because of Jesus.
Don’t let Israel Folau become a martyr for that cause. Don’t let this debacle draw you into a place of fear. We are free here. Truly.
This article is already as long as it needs to be. I have long run out of time to talk about why the Christian fundamentalist tendency to use the Bible to justify homophobia is simply a case of “lost in translation.” That’s a topic for next week. While it is deeply entrenched in Christendom, and not easily shifted, it is not all it seems. There is a growing movement of Christian progressives who are willing to challenge the status quo, and a growing number of scholars willing to look into the original translations of the Bible and reconstruct it. Nestled within that are many things that have been hidden in plain sight for as long as there has been terminology for same sex attraction.
I’ll break it all down for you next week. In the mean time: Happy Pride Month to all Queer Christians and LGBTI+ people everywhere. Ignore the rhetoric: You are loved by God. You are loved by me.
See you next week.
Kit K
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Theological Catfishing
“Catfishing” was a term inspired by a 2010 documentary where a person was lured into a romantic relationship with someone online, only to discover that the real person behind the online presence was entirely different. Disappointingly different. In a modern world where social media rules, catfishing is rife. It is a deceitful act where someone creates a false persona, on purpose, to lure people in by false pretences. Of course, there are degrees of severity, from doctoring a picture far beyond recognition to inventing entire personalities. But you get the idea.
So what’s this got to do with church, Kit? I’m glad you asked.
I’m surely not the only one who has noticed that churches aren’t called what they are anymore. We used to know what a church believed based on their name. Lutheran, Methodist, Catholic, Anglican, Baptist, etc – we knew what these names meant. Now we have things like “Elevate Church” “Hillsong,” “Vertical Church” to name a few. These are some of the big brand names in Christendom, but the trend has trickled down to local churches too. You name it, there’s a church called that. I could name a hundred churches that brand themselves this way, but I guess that’s not the point I’m trying to get to.
That point is this: What do they believe? What is their theology? In all too many cases, we don’t have a clue. We just follow along, immerse ourselves in the goodness of it all, until one day it doesn’t feel so good. One potential juggernaut for these inevitable clashes is that of ambiguous theology. “Oh, I thought you believed this. But you believe the exact opposite. This affects me deeply. Where do I fit now?”
Marketing matters for churches nowadays, and I absolutely understand that necessity. If you jump online, you will find an ocean of slick branding, relentlessly friendly and upbeat social media pages (which admittedly I contribute to), pictures of smiling faces and coffee machines, and video after video of amazing music and lively worship. It all combines to present the hook by which new attendees are attracted.
Though it is a reality, and perhaps an inevitability, there are a couple of potential problems with this:
We can’t confuse branding with evangelism. You don’t undertake the Great Commission by running a Facebook page. Real evangelism involves real connection. While I don’t discount the necessity of social media for facilitating Christian community, we can’t rely on it to do the whole thing for us. Let us not reduce Christ to content.
If we aren’t upfront about what we believe, then people can join us on false pretences. If when true intent comes to the fore, it doesn’t match the public or evangelistic narrative, the repercussions for a persons faith, participation, self-worth, and even mental health can be serious.
I’m a strong believer that we need to be upfront about what we believe. I’m a stronger believer that ambiguity is dangerous. It was recently International Women’s Day. So perhaps this is a good example of how theological catfishing is problematic.
Imagine you’re a girl who has grown up in church, hoping to use your gifts and talents for God. You want to be a pastor and you are given no indication that this would be an issue. Imagine wondering why your male counterparts keep on getting the opportunities you wished you had, if it was not made clear that your church was not as egalitarian as you thought it was. Wouldn’t it make you internalise the problem and ask “Why am I not good enough?” What would constant (and potentially unexplained) rejections do to your self worth and participation in faith? How would it affect how you view God and His heart towards you? What would it do for your trust in people if, after years of serving, someone finally tells you that you aren’t getting promoted because you are female.
Don’t empower someone using your words and your sermons if you can’t deal with what they do with empowerment.
The truth is many churches don’t believe women have the right to leadership (despite Biblical examples like Deborah, Junia, Phoebe, Euodia, Syntyche and others – more on that here). I know that many churches are complementarian, believing women don’t belong in senior leadership, or positions of authority at all. I used to be complementarian. I don’t judge anyone for not being egalitarian in their beliefs (believing all people are equal and able to serve/lead) as there are all types of churches and doctrines, many of which can be argued strongly from the Bible. However, I feel obligated to flag the danger in not allowing your theology to be clearly seen before it becomes a barrier to inclusion for someone who already thought they were accepted by the church.
There’s a simple solution to this: Be upfront with your theology. Because empowering a little girl right up until the point where she is a woman wanting to serve God with heart, soul and vocation, then telling her she has no place in leadership is harmful. Because that young woman, has given her time, energy and effort for years to sow into a cause she thought she was fully accepted in. She was used, then disempowered in the cruelest of glass ceilings.
It is, in fact, this little-known phenomenon known as ‘theological catfishing’.
Another group of marginalised Christians who fall victim to theological catfishing all the time is that of LGBTI+ Christians. I’m going to say something here that shouldn’t be controversial at all, but it is: I am a progressive Christian. I support LGBTI+ Christians and believe they have equal right to participate in faith and service. This is my individual, well-considered stance and I’ll tell you all about why another day. For now, I just want to flag this catfishing trend that does great harm to these individuals (and indeed others who have been mislead by ambiguous theology).
The harm I see in the lives that have touched mine and the stories they have relayed is this: We tell them they are loved, and accepted. We tell them that Jesus loves them just the way they are. Often, we have them serve on our teams until they decide to live authentically and be “out” then we remove them from leadership, having already used their talents to our ends and dangled the carrot of love and acceptance in front of their eyes.
Love and acceptance that should be healing, faith that should be a solace and a joy, is then another place of harm and judgement. When love is our great commandment, when compassion is our great example through Jesus, I believe we need to do better.
Research already shows that this group has a significantly higher risk of depression and suicidality than other groups (read more here). We also know that discrimination and exclusion are listed as “the key causal factors of LGBTI mental ill-health and suicidality [1].” We need to be treating them with more compassion and care. Not less. I know that there is a lot of debate around this issue, and I’m not going to get into that today, but I will say this:
Don’t say you are egalitarian if you do not believe that LGBTI people have every right to participate as fully in faith and ministry as their straight, cisgender counterparts. That is theological catfishing.
“Welcoming but not affirming” is not welcoming at all.
I am learning how to be a better ally to the people near and dear to me who are LGBTI+ and in my travels around the Bible, I’ve found there is absolutely no theological issue with my pure-egalitarian stance and my decision to love with no “ifs’, but’s or despite’s.” I’ll tell you all about the how and why another day. The message for today is this:
Mark 12:30-31 – Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’[a] 31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’[b] There is no commandment greater than these.
Love doesn’t catfish people by ambiguous theology, whether they are women, minorities, or LGBTI+ Christians. Love is honest. Love is kind. Love is not ambiguous. Love grapples with the deep issues other people face, because love wants to be with them in their plight. Love lifts the broken. It doesn’t break the lifted.
Think about it: what harm could be done when someone is converted on false pretences? Who then, is God, if His representatives deceived a person through a promise of unconditional acceptance and empowerment in order to convert them then taking that away.
My warning against theological catfishing comes after watching friends grapple with it. It comes after hearing a dear Christian friend choose not to attend church again because of the risk of theological catfishing. Once bitten, forever shy. There are more stories I could cite, as at least in my part of the world, its pretty darn hard to find a modern, affirming church. We’ve got a long way to go. Tis is just one story, but no doubt a very common one. We can tell ourselves that by hiding the less palatable elements of our theology, we are evangelising better. But if we are driving people away from God more permanently by revealing these things after time rather than go on a deep journey of understanding and discovery, then I counter that this is not sustainable or genuine evangelism.
It’s just false advertising.
God doesn’t need a PR manager. He needs people with good theology, open hearts, honest mouths, and a lot of love to give. He can handle the rest. Another day, I will tell you why I am a progressive Christian. But today I’m not brave enough. I’m only brave enough to implore you to love better. And that should truly be every Christians job.
REFERENCES:
Why Faith Post-Deconstruction is Pretty Great
When I look back through the backlog of topics I’ve written about on here, one thing is abundantly clear: I’ve written on a lot of heavy stuff! (#SorryNotSorry). While you could be forgiven for thinking I’m constantly sitting on a rock, looking at the stars and stroking my chin like some contemplative stone statue, in truth that’s not me at all. I just carve out a few hours a week to be a nerd. And. I. Love. It. But its time for something happy and simple. So today I’m popping out a bit of encouragement for you: if you are going through deconstruction right now, then fear not. Life and faith post deconstruction can be pretty great.
This week, I was talking to a beautiful friend who is just beginning on this journey. I guess I’m optimistic that for her, the deconstruction process won’t be so much like a rug brutally ripped out from under her feet, toppling a well-ordered world. I hope it will be a little more gentle, a little more hopeful. Hey – I might be way off mark, but a girl can hope, right?
However you approach your deconstruction journey, I want to say there’s hope. Many people who find themselves undergoing this dramatic internal reinvention go on to find deep satisfaction in life and faith. My deconstruction was brutal. But my life now is so deeply satisfying. In the beginning, it felt like all ashes. My world felt burned to the ground. But now, to quote the cliché, beauty has come out of it.
The thing each of us must know is this: you don’t begin a deconstruction journey unless you knew that something wasn’t right and that you had to figure out what and why.
You might not tell yourself this explicitly. It might be something that happens on a subconscious level. It might be something kicked off by conflict or circumstance. But there is a reason for the search. There’s no avoiding that. So you best lean in and strap in, friend.
I’ve met people who are trying their hardest not to go on the deconstruction journey. Eventually, they all find this to be futile. If you find yourself avoiding that pull, its because there is something that needs looking at. There is some soul-sore festering in there and it wants your attention.
But no matter the hardship that lead you there, beauty can come out of it. You can stay a Christian if you want to. You don’t have to walk away from everything. But taking a microscope to your belief system in the service of finding deeper truth just is not a bad thing. If anything, it can lead you into deeper authenticity and happiness.
The Peace Barometer
I love how Marie Kondo’s decluttering method seems to have taken the world by storm. She asks “Does this item spark joy?” If it doesn’t, then we thank it and it goes. Regardless of how you feel about your clutter, or the little sprite who floats into people’s homes and helps clean them, its not a bad approach. I guess, spiritually, my deconstruction journey was a little bit Marie Kondo.
I started comparing things against Romans 14:17 – That the kingdom of God is righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. I started comparing everything against that. But even within this, we can tell ourselves that our actions are right in the sight of God, and that settles the righteousness conflict. We can even tell ourselves that we are happy and joyful (although if you are about to start deconstructing, then you know this isn’t true).
For me, the one thing I could never manufacture was peace. Therefore, peace became the thing I measured everything against. The other two, righteousness and joy, factored in but I could convince myself I had both to a certain degree. But if peace was missing then I knew I had issues.
As Christians, we accept a lot of what we are told, because the people rocking our pulpits occupy such a place of respect and honour in our lives. Yet a persons walk with God is such a deeply personal experience. No one does it for you. Its you and God. From here to eternity. Over the years, I had become deeply uncomfortable with some of those things. I could believe them to amount to righteousness. But I did not feel peace and I did not feel joy.
So I had some questions to ask. For example, some of them looked like this:
Does dominionism bring peace? Does it bring joy? Does it make the world better?
Does the constant work of ministry bring peace and joy? Does it make me a better ambassador for Christ, or just a tired, cranky, legalistic one?
Do I have to support “Christian” politicians and their anti-immigration policies just because I too am a Christian? Does it bring me peace? Does it bring me joy to support such suffering? (if so…WHYYYYYY?)
And for a particularly touchy one – Do I have to be homophobic and transphobic just because I’m a Christian? Does this bring me peace? Does it bring me joy?
There were so many questions asked. These are just four examples. Everyone’s answers will likely be different. Mine were “no, no, no and no.” So I looked to the Bible. I searched. I listened to podcasts. I read books. I talked to other deconstructors to normalise what I was going through (important step, this!). I leaned into the process. I’m so thankful my hubby was there with me, because I’m sure he’d have gotten CRAZY sick of me if he wasn’t.
I’ve learned that if peace cannot be found, then something needs to change. Just because something is preached at us doesn’t mean it is truth. (Take that with a grain of salt. There are so many wonderful, wise, theologically strong pastors and leaders out there. I’m so blessed to have some of them in my life and my life is better for it. But that does not erase the fact that authority figures can be prone to error and dogma, and when the two combine, we have bad theology that does great damage.)
Chase peace. Chase joy. Chase righteousness. The truth is that the human conscience is a gift from God. It points us to truth when the external stimuli can be so aggressively pointing us to error. If your conscience is telling you something is amiss, then lean in to that. It is never wrong. It can be muted, but never wrong.
Post-deconstruction: love-based faith not fear based religion.
I can’t even begin to explain the depth and breadth of my deconstruction journey. It was big. I can tell you this though: I have peace and I’m happy. I will always carry grief. But that is true for anyone who has faced loss. We don’t stop grieving. We just grow a bigger life around it, and we find joy in appreciating the things that grew into our lives after loss seemed to prune us back.
I don’t feel anxious on Sunday mornings. I don’t feel anxious when I disagree with something said from the pulpit. I serve in a church and it brings me joy to do so. I grapple with how best to raise my children, but I have peace knowing we all do, and that if I keep faith and conscience at the centre of it then I can’t go too far wrong. I don’t feel that clench in my chest when I look at the politics section of the news. I feel calm, knowing I’m right where I need to be and the rest is God’s problem.
Even when there is a challenge that comes my way, there is a peace there that I never had before and that’s a truly beautiful thing.
This past weekend, my husband and I dealt with two sick kids and a list of odd jobs as long as our arms. I was leading songs at church and I knew it was going to be a tough gig because I had skeleton staff on the band, was multitasking far more than is practical, and half the church was away at a wedding across the other side of the state. I knew it wasn’t going to be the most earth-moving worship service. But I didn’t feel anxious. I felt peace. The word brought at church had a gentle challenge in it, but I did not feel crushed or at odds. I felt empowered to look at it and let it sink in. In amongst the domestic madness, my husband found moments to look at each-other, look at our kids and feel truly blessed and in love with our little family.
That’s not something that I could have had while I was at odds with myself, my faith and my expression of Christianity. But oh its a blessing now that the deconstruction journey is less intense.
I hope to deconstruct and reconstruct my faith constantly over the years to follow, because I always want my faith to reflect Christ, to be a sweet fragrance to those my life may touch, and to be authentically, peacefully, and joyfully me. Don’t fear deconstruction, friend. Lean in to it. Good things can come out of it.
So that’s me! I hope it encourages you. If you are on a deconstruction journey, then I hope you find support here. Hit me up if you have any questions as I love helping deconstructors if I can in any way – even if that’s linking you with resources.
Anyway! I’ve got to go do some real work. You have a wonderful week.
Kit K. Over and Out
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Faith, Identity, and the Deconstruction Journey
When I first read the terms “deconstruction” and “reconstruction”, I was in the thick of what one might call an existential crisis. Up until this point “deconstruction” was something referring to food in swanky restaurants (A deconstructed cheesecake, for example. Basically it means a messy, smashed cheesecake with a garnish on top.) Suddenly I was hearing this word applied to faith, belief and the way one looks at life. At that time, I felt like my neatly packaged way of looking at the world was suddenly flying about in a million pieces like ticker tape. It was its own messy, smashed cheesecake and I didn’t know how to put it back together.
I don’t know how to write this series in a way that’s neat. Because deconstruction and reconstruction aren’t neat. But I sure hope its helpful. So here are my first four thoughts.
First thought: You’re going to be okay. Its scary as heck. But you’re going to be ok.
Deconstruction, in psychological terms, is a process of critical analysis. You could apply it to faith, relationships, identity, life, or even specific issues in news or media. You could even apply it to a prize fight. Where did it go right? Where did it go wrong? Etc. But the type I’m talking about here usually comes after a loss of some sort: loss of a friendship, a relationship, a faith, a community, etc. It causes you to look back on time and ask things like “What was I thinking? What do I think? Who am I now?” and in some cases, “How do I approach life?”
The process itself involves deconstructing your old ideas about who you are and what you believe (and reconstruction is the partner to this process: where you put those pieces all back together). Think about this like a thousand piece puzzle. Its lovely when the picture is all together and looking sharp, but when you are holding the pieces and you don’t know where to start – well gee. That’s daunting. And its messy as F. (F meaning foretold. You didn’t think I’d drop the F bomb, did you? Heh.)
For some people this process of deconstruction can be limited to one patch of their life. For others its all encompassing. I’ve read that for people leaving a controlling relationship or a high demand group, for example, it can involve high-anxiety and inability to think through things as simple as deciding where and how to open a bank account.
When I started this journey, I was happy with where my bank accounts where held, thank Heavens. But I was second guessing what the Bible really meant, who was God really, how should I raise my kids or approach faith, God, and contribution to society. I was wondering how I should redevelop a tribe for my husband, kids and I to live and thrive in. My experience of faith had informed everything: my friendships, how I interacted with family, career, finance, sleep, tv consumption, major life decisions – everything. All of a sudden it was blown to pieces. I felt like I my locus of control had been external. I didn’t know how to reach out, grab it and figure out how to possess it for myself. I didn’t even know whether I was allowed to. In some moments, I was rapt in the freedom of it all. At other times, I was almost crippled with fear.
Its been three years. And I want to say something to people who are just starting this journey – you are going to be ok. I’ll give you a spoiler here: I’m ok. In fact, I’m happier. My marriage is thriving, as are my friendships. I love my tribe, and my weekends are spent with people I just adore. We soak in the sunshine, watch our kids play, drink wine (on many if not all occasions) and we laugh a lot. I laugh a lot more than I used to. I still have struggles but they are well within the bounds of “normal.” How do you deal with 2 year olds? How do you squeeze in date night when you are so tired? Why do the weeds in my garden have to grow so freakin’ fast? That sort of thing.
If you’re just starting this journey, then it feels all-encompassing right now. It feels messy, and painful, and out of control. But it won’t feel that way forever. I’ve got friends who are 4, 5, 6 and even 15 years post-deconstruction. They are doing well. Life looks different but it looks good. You’re going to be okay. Just keep taking one step at a time.
Second thought: There’s grief, and no matter what you’ve heard about the five stages of grief – it isn’t linear. One moment you are in denial. The next you are angry. You think you’ve accepted it then you change your mind about that. That’s okay. Just roll with it.
Yes, you can grieve for faith, community, or relationships as deeply as you would grieve for a person. Why? Because if you are grieving for the loss of identity or a relationship, then its almost like you are grieving for the person you were before. Its okay. My husband and I used to try to fix each-other. If one of us was having an off day, we would try to talk each-other up and out of that funk. One would compensate for the other persons sadness or rumination with confidence and cheeriness. It was noble. But we have learned something over the years: its better to acknowledge those feelings of sadness and rumination, hug it out, and simply be there in the sadness. You don’t have to feel “up” all the time. You can’t. That’s life. But if you have someone beside you to simply share it, then cherish that. I’m so blessed that hubby was on this journey with me. The way we worked through our deconstruction/reconstruction was different, as was the timeline, but we were in it together. I’m so thankful for that.
Not everyone will go through this process with a partner. If you can’t, then find a friend, a support group, or a therapist. Better still, find all of the above. This is hard stuff. You’re going to make it. But its hard stuff.
Third thought: You probably need to know about limbic lag.
Fun fact: Your prefrontal cortex (which makes sense of the world) sometimes works on a different timeline to your limbic system (which is thought to govern emotions). So when it comes to matters like re-evaluating and re-building your life, if you are feeling like crap, it doesn’t have to mean anything more than that you’re feeling like crap. Acknowledge it. Don’t fight it. But don’t think you need to rethink everything because you are feeling like rubbish in that moment. It could simply be limbic lag – thoughts and feelings working on different schedules. Eventually they’ll line up a bit better. But in the midst of the crisis, they might not. And that’s okay.
Tomorrow will be another day. You don’t have to feel sad tomorrow if you felt sad today. But if you do that’s okay too. (Disclaimer: one or two days is okay, but if your low mood lasts much longer than that, see a doctor. Sometimes when we face upheavals in life, it can wear on our mental health. If you are suffering from ongoing low mood then it could be depression, which is a medical condition. Don’t muck around with that. Your life means too much. Yes, even if you feel like you’ve lost your sense of purpose and place right now. You are worth help. And help helps, you know.)
Now, I know that limbic lag is a bit of a pop-psych terminology to describe this phenomenon but its a helpful one based on how the different sections of the brain work. If you’ve gone on a big process of deconstruction, then your whole life might be put under the microscope of critical thought, and you might be grieving a lot while also talking and thinking through it all. If you are used to “following your gut” to know whether you are right or wrong, then this limbic lag could be confusing. You might wonder if you are wrong on something just because you don’t get that happy, peaceful feeling about it.
In this moment, I encourage you to sit with the feelings and know that sometimes you just feel bad. I’m about to use another pop-psych term (eeek!) but in these moments, self-care matters. So run that bath. Have that chocolate. Go for that walk (get dressed first if you’ve just had that bath! You’re welcome). Phone that friend. See that movie. Deconstruction can feel all encompassing, but you can take a few hours off your existential crisis to see Jason Momoa, er I mean Aquaman or whatever. Your existential crisis will still be there tomorrow, so you can give yourself permission to take a day off making sense of the world.
Fourth Thought: Deconstruction and reconstruction don’t have to be separate. You can do one as you do the other. They can also be positive and freeing, even if the circumstances that lead you there weren’t.
Look, how you face your crisis is your business. No one can tell you how to do it (apart from a good therapist, which EVERYONE needs. I swear. Emphasis on the word good though. A good one will guide you through it, give you the skills to do it, but never demand you do it their way or according to their values). But I found I had to approach deconstruction and reconstruction together, and in an ongoing fashion.
In the beginning, something would pop up almost every day. Its amazing how pervading your belief system can be. During the heavy deconstruction phase after I left a church, lost a community and had to reinvent it all, I was amazed at how much I had to rethink. But deconstruction and reconstruction ran together. Something would pop up, and I’d realise “I used to think this about a particular thing. What do I think now?” I’d then study, think, talk it through with people in my circle and arrive at what I now think. It was a constant process of taking one belief out of my box of beliefs, turning it over, thinking about it and deciding whether it was to be kept, discarded or reinvented.
You see, you can’t just discard a belief. You have to replace it with what you now think. It’s not just a matter of realising Santa doesn’t exist. Its a matter of realising he doesn’t exist, and he’s actually your parents waiting until after you go to bed and putting the presents bought with their hard-earned cash under the tree. Santa didn’t eat the cookie. Ruddolph didn’t eat the carrot. Dad ate the cookie and Mum put the carrot back in the crisper so it could be chopped up and put in with the roasting vegetables.
It sounds terribly orderly, doesn’t it? I wish it were. It was actually a lot less organised. Because one day it was church attendance and tithing, the next it was social justice, predestination, the afterlife and fear of Hell. Then back to tithing or whatever. It was haphazard and emotionally draining, sometimes intellectual, and other times deeply emotive. Sometimes it was easy to arrive at a new conclusion or retain the old one, and sometimes it was too hard to sort through in a day, a week or a month.
Three years on, I hope I keep deconstructing and reconstructing for the rest of my life. Now that I’m through the existential crisis and into a more authentic, congruent and peaceful way of living and expressing faith, I think its an altogether healthy thing to keep asking yourself important questions. Its hard in the beginning if you’ve been living life one way and then it all gets thrown up in the air. But its not always a negative thing or something undertaken in reaction to loss or upheaval.
I realise this blog post lacks my usual references and intellectual geek-speak. I felt like it deserved a bit more of a personal look. I hope it helps. If it doesn’t, then I hope you just hold on to two things: find a good therapist, and you’re going to be okay.
Life can get sunnier if you do the work.
Three years into a deconstruction/reconstruction journey that may come and go for the rest of my life, here’s what I know: I’m still me. I just like me more. I am more able to grow and evolve than I thought I was. I am stronger and more capable than I thought I was. I am still a Christian. God hasn’t changed, but my understanding of Him has and so the way I express that and love people has changed. There will always be things I grieve. Because grief doesn’t necessarily go away. You just grow a bigger life around it.
And you can, you will, grow a bigger life around it.
Good luck. Stay tuned next week when I talk about…something relevant.
xo
Kit K
Is Church Still Relevant?
Rounding out the relevance series (before we get stuck into some heavy topics) is the topic of Church. To me, there’s no question that Jesus and faith are still relevant. In fact, a reader remarked during the week that it is people that drive people from Jesus. Jesus himself isn’t the problem but often Christians mess it up. No arguments there!
We’ve talked about the concept of sin, and we’ve unpacked preaching. But now its time to talk format. We’ve been doing church this way (roughly) since Constantine. Meet in a building on a Sunday and hear a sermon. Somewhere along the line, songs or hymns made their way in. Tithes have always been part of it (since Jacob promised God a tenth of everything and Malachi put pen to paper). Society has evolved over the last few centuries but Church kept the same format, albeit adding flashing lights, stage design and contemporary music stylings.
So friend, is church still relevant? Here are some thoughts on it.
To kick this one off, the obvious scripture reference has to pop up, right? Hebrews 10:25 – “Do not forsake the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhort one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.”
Some translations say “the gathering together of the saints”. Others word it differently, but the inference is clear – if you are a Christian, meet up with other Christians to keep yourself encouraged and built up. Its good logic, I believe. No man is an island. Its a cliché because its true. We need people, because life will be great but it will also be crappy. At times, our walk with God will be as easy as breathing. At other times, it will be as easy as breathing when you have end stage emphysema and a sumo sitting on your chest. It seems to me that we need the Christian community around us in both scenarios.
Firstly, when faith is easy its easy to stop praying, searching, or checking your doctrine. Its easy to invent your own truth and ride high on the euphoria of your own ideas when things are going well. Boy, I’ve heard some strange things come out of peoples mouths during these times! Things are going well. Things feel right. So we don’t check our thoughts to see if they are wrong. Being part of a community of believers can help keep you on the straight and narrow, and keep throwing scripture at you (via sermons) even when you aren’t reading your own copy of the Good Book.
Secondly, in the hard times, encouragement and friendship can stop you from throwing in the towel, hiding from God or yelling “As if You are even there!” at the sky. I think I’ve done all three. And I’m eternally grateful (perhaps literally) for the people who have helped me through. But in these times, church hasn’t been in the walls of the church necessarily. It’s been at kitchen tables, crying into cups of herbal tea.
Thirdly, community is a valuable part of a healthy existence. One of the greatest plagues of the modern world is that of loneliness. We are surrounded by people but have no one to share our lives with on a deep, personal level. We have Facebook friends lists with thousands of names, but no one to call in a crisis. Church, when done right, can be a solution to this problem. It can be a place to find a tribe and a sense of belonging. Nothing wrong with that (unless that church wields too much control over you because you need somewhere to belong. But that’s a whole other can of worms).
I am acutely aware that there are those who have a deep grapple with this question: is this “song service + pop culture sermon” format, the one that is oh-so-common across the western world, the best way to explore faith within the context of community. I can’t give you a Yes/No answer, but I’m more than happy to lay out a few thoughts.
There have been various movements in church format over the centuries. From the church of Acts which sounds a little like the communes of the 70’s (although I’m sure without the hippy/culty stuff that popped up in a lot of those). They shared their belongings. They broke bread together. They did life together. Then over the centuries that followed, long-form sermons and hymns took precedence as communal living faded away. Today, that sermon/hymn format has survived in some denominations. But in others it has been superseded by a more seeker-friendly format seen in mega-churches: a song service, tithes, the occasional communion, and a sermon. Its just all wrapped in slick advertising, nice stage designs and shorter, less fire-and-brimstone messages that are more appealing to the masses.
Is this the only relevant format? I don’t think so but each comes with pros-and-cons. Perhaps the modern format has been created to fit in with peoples busy, complicated lives, and perhaps that comes at the expense of a deep understanding of the word of God and a too-heavy reliance upon music to create the mood and experience. But the bottom line is this: if you are relying on church to keep your relationship with God afloat, you’re missing the point. Church doesn’t manage your relationship with God. It doesn’t save you. It doesn’t hash out your deep doubts or your misgivings. It shouldn’t dictate your every decision between Monday and Saturday. You and God have to work that out. Church is where we gather to keep encouraged, to be challenged when needed, and to find others who are walking a similar path. When we find a good church, its a thing to cherish.
Currently, a regular attender at church is someone who goes once every three weeks (or maybe four! I can’t remember!). It could be easy to think that this is the measure of a persons Christianity. I don’t think this is wise. Who has a closer walk with God? Someone who goes to church every week but never opens their Bible? Or someone who never sets foot in church but prays and reads their Bible every day? Who has a better hold on righteousness? The songleader who can create a heightened emotional atmosphere in a worship service, but chooses songs purely on how they can make people feel and lives a life that contradicts the songs? Or the person who doesn’t go to church regularly but makes a daily effort to ask “what would Jesus do?” and follow through on that.
Church attendance really isn’t a hill I’ll die on. I don’t think it determines whether or not you’ll go to Heaven. It can just make life a bit easier along the way. It can surround you with community, give you focus, and opportunities to contribute and grow your faith. That’s good. I’m in a church and I love it. But not all of my friends find it that easy. In fact, many of them serve out their faith the best way they can, but regular church attendance isn’t part of it at this point. You won’t find me passing judgement on any of them, because they share their faith and walk with God with other Christians (myself among them), and I’m absolutely sure God looks upon their reasons (and in some cases their struggles) and sees someone He loves and cares about.
Example: I’ve got a friend who left behind a city mega-church and settled down in the country. For him and his family, church is a lived experience that never has them set foot in a church (at least for this portion of their life). They have Christian friends and parents. They share their lives, frustrations, playlists, scripture readings, dreams, hopes and day-to-day stuff with them. But every day they make an effort to share the love of God with the people that are in their lives. Is it for everyone? No. But does it satisfy the Hebrews 10 clause – yeah, pretty sure it does. And they seem happy.
More than once, I’ve heard people voice their frustration at various parts of their own church experience. The worship doesn’t satisfy them (either its too pushy or its too light). The sermon isn’t quite right (its too pop culture, too light on scripture, too long, too short, too confrontational, not confrontational enough). The character of the congregation doesn’t suit. Its too cliquey, or too love-bomby and suffocating. It seems if you’ve got a church of 100 people, you’ll have 100 opinions on how it should run. You’ll have people who get along better than others. You’ll have rough diamonds. You’ll have iron sharpening iron. It will be great. It will be uncomfortable. It will be different things to different people. That’s all fine.
Church will never be perfect because its made up of humans and we aren’t perfect. I look at Hebrews 10:25, I look at people who never skip a Sunday unless they’re dead, I look at people who skip church on a sunny day and here’s what I think – Church isn’t Christianity. Church is encouragement, and community. Church is flawed, and easy, and difficult, and imperfect. It is beautiful and ugly at times, but Church is just people. It was a God-breathed concept that inevitably has good and bad aspects because it was entrusted to the hands of inherently flawed humans but church is not salvation. Jesus is.
The minute we think it is a qualifying factor in our salvation, or that it buoys our sinking devotional life, we miss the point. Over the course of the last few months, I’ve spoken with a lot of people who carry deep, deep wounds from toxic churches. Many of them can’t set foot in a church. To them I’d say – Don’t worry. No one is dooming you to Hell because you can’t do it. But find a friend who can help you satisfy the Hebrews 10:25 clause. There’s another scripture that says “where two or more are gathered, there I am in the midst.” Church doesn’t have to be in a building with a spire or a band. It can be in kitchens around tables. It can be in lounge rooms. Communion can be in tiny cups or it can be giant feasts an Italian mamma would be proud to put on. Format isn’t important. Here’s what is:
Does it encourage you to keep on going in your faith, to keep on searching for a deeper walk with God in the mountains or in the valleys of life?
Does it create room for the kind of friendships where someone could say “Okay mate, I think you’re going off on a weird tangent here. Why don’t we come back to what God says about it?”
Does it motivate you to find ways to show the love of God to people who need it and thus spread the fragrance of His love in every place like the scripture says?
Does it surround you with community so you never feel like you are doing this thing alone?
Christianity is you and God. Church is a community that surrounds you. How that works format-wise is less of an issue than some make it out to be. There are markers of a healthy church. I’ve talked about that before and I’ll probably talk about it again. But for today I’ll say this: I strongly believe Church is still relevant. It just doesn’t have to look the way it always has.
I say that as a member of a healthy church, as a member of a worship team. I love where I am at and see it as an important part of my walk with God. But that is my walk with God.
You do yours.
Is the Concept of “Sin” Still Relevant?
We can’t talk about the relevance of Christianity, faith, church, etc without talking about one of the cornerstones upon which this all sits – the idea of sin. So today I’m taking a quick look at whether or not this word still has a place in the modern world. Breathe in, breathe out, lets go.
“For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23) Okay then, what next.
I first heard about “sin” pretty early on in life. I was raised the child of evangelicals, who began pastoring when I was 8. Thus my “sin” radar was pretty well-tuned. In truth, it became a thing so big as to become a boogie monster of sorts – the shadow that chased me into a deep pursuit of Christianity, rather than being taken along that journey by the guiding light of who Jesus is/was. Hey look – my faith might have been a lot more fear-based back then than it is now, but I’m still grateful for it. These days I accept that every human (including me – gasp!) is flawed and that’s ok. I do my best and thank God for grace that covers the rest. I pursue a faith that is about running towards the good things, not running away from the bad things, but that doesn’t mean I have erased the concept of sin from my brain.
In the modern day, we might ask ourselves whether the word ‘sin’ is even necessary. Its very presence in the modern lexicon is something some may find offensive. We have ethics. We have crime and punishment. Atheists, agnostics, humanists and Christians (and all the other belief systems too innumerable to list) alike can all pursue a high standard of ethical, altruistic living with or without the word ‘sin’. Is it therefore still relevant? I’m going to say that yes, it is. But it is our attitude to it that needs attention.
I guess we need to start with what “Sin” is. When you trace it back to the Hebrew and Greek origins of the word, there are two big concepts: one is that of a transgression (stepping across a boundary or limit), the other is that of missing the mark (so perhaps think of an athlete shooting for a goal but missing it.) “This view of sin includes the concept of our going in one direction but straying off course to the side and not continuing in the direction we intended to go, with the result that we don’t reach the goal we intended. We miss [Scott Ashley – on how the Bible defines sin].”
There are two types of sins: sins of commission and sins of omission. The first is pretty well spelled out in Scripture. Take the 10 Commandments for instance – idol worship, adultery, theft, murder, covetousness, dishonouring your parents, blasphemy, not remembering the Sabbath (incidentally, almost the whole gentile population is guilty of this one! Ooops). Galatians 5:19-21 (in some weird translation!) goes on to list a few others: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery (interpret those the way you will), idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkness and orgies. These appeared in a letter penned by the apostle Paul, who was raised a pharisee and spent his pre-conversion life as a dedicated anti-Christian pharisee. His was a theology informed by the religious system of the day before being interrupted by a revelation of Jesus. So who knows how much this influenced his look at sin.
We know that Jesus came to transcend the law of Moses, and that He called us to a higher law of love. But that doesn’t mean that debauchery and orgies aren’t sin. *shrugs* Who knew?
Then there are sins of omission: the sins you commit when you see something that requires action, but you do not act (James 4:17.) I’m absolutely sure that this is something nearly everyone is guilty of. I don’t think sin is something we can avoid. The big things we can avoid. Its pretty easy to not murder. Just, you know, don’t murder. Its pretty easy to not rape. Just, you know, don’t rape. But envy? Fits of rage? Not speaking up when you should? That’s where it gets hard. Factions? Ask anyone involved in politics – they’re hard to avoid. (Hmmm, is politics sin then? *strokes chin thoughtfully. I jest. Of course. Mostly.)
John Calvin was one of the theologians whose ideas have survived into modern Christianity. One of his big ideas was that of Total Depravity. Sounds bad! Right! Here’s the sum of up that doctrine: there is no part of us which hasn’t been affected by the “taint” of sin. Its in our mind, will, emotions and physical body and has been ever since Eve ate the fruit of the forbidden tree. (I’m not going to go into every aspect of Calvinism and the doctrine of Total Depravity. If you want that, go here). What I will say on the matter is that it underpins the idea that man is lost without God, and the only way to please God is through Jesus. Both things are found through-out scripture. It also inspired a common persuasive evangelistic approach – to lay out the power and pervasiveness of sin before they bring in the saving power of Jesus.
It has certainly had its place in the past. Perhaps it still does. In years gone by, the church has acted as a moral guidepost of society. In a post-modern world, and what some would call a post-Christian world, this is not a place we occupy anymore. Does it mean that preachers should no longer use sin as a means of converting people to the gospel? Certainly not.
Does it mean the word ‘sin’ no longer belongs in the modern vernacular? Also, I’d say, certainly not. I have three reasons for this:
The word ‘sin’ is related to ‘wrongdoing’, ‘crime’, ‘evil’ and ‘unethical.’ These words cover, in part, what sin is. They are very present in the modern world, as is a (largely) shared concept of what is just and unjust. For the life of me, I can’t find the most perfect CS Lewis quote that summed up how this, rather than a look at nature or the stars, was a better proof of the existence of God – that this idea of right and wrong is engraved deep within all of us. But it was a beautiful and poignant quote that showed just how the knowledge of good and evil, fruit of the first sin, is still with us and thus the latter is still pervasive – even when one does not believe in God. You don’t need to believe in God to know when something is wrong. You don’t need to believe in Him to feel guilty over not standing up for a bullying victim, or for cheating or stealing. Its there in all of us.
The other part of sin’s definition is simply not measuring up to the standard of a holy, perfect God. By virtue of this, by virtue of our very humanity, we are sinful. I don’t believe we should feel shame over this. We should just accept it, that there’s no way to be superhuman, and to thank God for the grace that covers our sin and allows us eternity with God anyway. So we need to stop thinking of sin as pure evil. We need to start thinking of it more as a fact of life, a part of humanity – one remedied by Jesus and only Jesus. So sin doesn’t just mean the heavy things (like evil). It also means imperfect. It also just means human. We aren’t God. Who knew?
The presence of sin (the second part of the definition provided in the first paragraph – that of not measuring up or of missing the mark) does not exempt us from doing our best, even though it will never be as perfect and superhuman as God. It simply means we do what we can, knowing Jesus is the One who covers the shortfall.
I don’t think we should be offended when others take issue with the presence of the word ‘sin’ in the Christian vocabulary. Ask them for their definition of right, wrong, good, evil, success, failure, ethics – you’ll see that sin consciousness is there. The rest, I believe, is just semantics.
The preachers of old used to use ‘sin’ as the thing to illustrate our need for God. For me, there is a fine line between illustrating how Jesus is the only one who bridges the void and scaring people into a fear-based Christianity. When I look around me these days, I see enough fear. I don’t think we need that. But if some people feel lead to preach fire and brimstone, good for them. There’s a time, a place and a scenario which calls for that (I’m sure!)
It’s not my call. You won’t find me on a street corner reminding the world, yet again, what my read of the Bible condemns. You’ll find me loving people and doing the best I can when it comes to showing the love of Christ while examining my own faith and making sure I do the best I can when it comes to emulating the red letters.
The last thing I’ll say is this: “For we know that our old self was crucified with Christ, so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin because anyone who has died has been freed from sin.” Romans 6:6-7
If you are a Christian who, like me, found yourself fumbling through a fear-based faith – breathe easy. According to Romans 6:6-7, you’re exempt. You aren’t exempt from doing your best to ‘bear fruit worthy of salvation,’ but you are exempt from the penalty of sin. Do your best. Live a good life, knowing Jesus sacrifice both covers you and empowers you (Matthew 3:8, Philippians 4:13) But don’t stress out if you fumble. You are free.
But still. No orgies, okay. Unless, you know what…I’m not even going to go there. You do you.