True confessions time.

Here is something I have struggled with for my whole Christian walk. I do not like to refer to myself as “born again” or “saved.” I’ll wear evangelical, I’ll wear Christian, I’ll wear many other labels; but those two make me uncomfortable. They conjur up images of polyester suits and too much makeup; people with an artificial veneer who want to sell something that is worth less than the asking price. People who are charlatans after a fashion. I do not want to associate myself with those labels and those mental pictures. I don’t want to associate Jesus with people who are artificial charlatans.

I’ve been reading a couple of other blogs with interest. First, Kievas mused on the labels herself the other day. She doesn’t have the hangups about them that I do. But she’s a little wary of them nonetheless. I like her notion that perhaps they are too finite and one’s faith is better described more in terms of a journey than in stop-motion. Then, Patrick was wrestling with the terminology surrounding salvation. He’s not much enamoured with the word “saved” and would like a broader term such as “liberate.” I happen to agree with him and concur with his reasoning (he’s got more training than I). But I also think that perhaps we in the 21st century might just be using the word “saved” in a different context than it was originally used by Jesus and his disciples in the first century. I don’t know enough Aramaic (euphemism for … none) to guess. But when I did a word search in the New Testament on ‘saved’ and read through the passages, I think it’s just possible that we made the answers too easy.

For myself, now, I still don’t know what to call myself. Or how to refer to my moments (and they are several) of faith choices. Biblically speaking, it is pretty clear that Jesus spoke of having a spiritual re-birth. This was and is not unusual. He spoke of salvation coming through Him. But He wasn’t really that clear-cut on how it would happen. It seems to me that people who would like to make a system of it are diminishing the power, majesty and mystery of God (or maybe I have a superiority complex). Sixteen years or so ago I began the process of turning my face to the Son. Some days are not as blinding as others. And I think that’s about the clearest thing I can say about it now.

There are many points in the Old Testament where the Hebrew people are referred to as “stubborn and stiff-necked.” The context is such that this is clearly meant to be a negative description of their character. When I was much younger I found this somewhat confusing. Being raised in New England, I was taught from the cradle that character traits such as stubborn and stiff-necked were something to be sought after. They meant that one would be able to withstand the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with little assistance from others. So it made the text of those passages rather dim for me.

Then I discovered that the reference to stiff-necked was to oxen. It meant something to an agricultural people who used oxen to plow their fields and pull their carts. An ox who is stiff-necked does not respond to his master. He does not take direction from the dude in charge. He requires a much harsher prod and harder discipline in order to provoke the desired response. This gave me new perspective on the Old Testament description. I also suddenly realized that I did indeed have much in common with those heros of old … but it was not to be desired.

All of which is to say I learn hard.  Academics come easy to me.  Life comes hard.  Learning the lessons and turning my life around … listening the voice of my Driver … well … I am stubborn and stiff-necked.

One thing I am slowly and o so painfully learning is how to be thankful for what I have.  How to see my life for the things I have and not for the grass on the other side of the fence.  I have learned a great deal in this regard from a wonderful woman in Texas who (tongue in cheek) refers to herself as “The Princess of Quite A Lot.”  She has a thankfulness list every Thursday and invites her readers to share in that.  So, in a small attempt to begin to bend my stiff neck, I’m going to follow her lead.  This first list is late … 2 days late.  But I am nonetheless thankful for these things:

1.    Clutter … protects the carpet when you inadvertently dribble your coffee. 😉
2.    Coffee.  I love coffee.

3.    Clean water … right from my tap.  It’s amazing.

4.    Hockey and how happy it makes LightGirl.

5.    Blue fabric … I love blue fabric … rich deep blues

6.    Putting Christmas away for the year.

7.    Design Team … I love these people

8.    Quilts to sleep under

9.    Snow

10.    Cheese

JJ the Smu (as he is coming to be known in the blog-o-sphere) posted a thought-provoking piece a couple of days ago asking us to think about how we’d like to be known as Christians. He listed several things he’d really rather people thought of and then he asked others to add to the list. A late comer to the comments added “unity” with very little context.

There, my friends, is a loaded term. More loaded than LightBoy’s new potato cannon. And more combustible. This term is used to brow beat more people than Constantine. I don’t even think that’s an exaggeration (if we’re talking straight numbers, percentages and I’m out of line). It’s used to keep people in line with the party line. Keep them from asking too many unsightly, uncomfortable, unnerving questions. Keep them in their place. Keep them in fear. Keep them. The body of Christ is SUPPOSED to live in unity is wielded liked a battle axe.

Lately, I’ve heard more and more people discussing the distinction between unity and conformity. Then they say, with an arched brow, “There **is** a difference, you know.” Many churches use the word unity to enforce conformity of thinking. Several of us called it the uni-mind at our CLB; enforcing like thinking amongst everyone.

I was thinking this morning tho, that what we really might be after in the church is really harmony. Think about that metaphor for a minute. Even unity (without conformity) can be be a straitjacket for something as big and bold as the Body of Christ. Think about many voices together singing a song as one voice … for a really long time. Now think about all those voices singing the song in harmony. Think of the texture and depth and musicality that song now has. Everyone is still singing the same song, they are all singing together, but they are singing the notes that they were born to sing. The basses are singing bass, not soprano and vice versa. Now, let’s add an orchestra to the voices. Now we have people playing instruments in harmony with the people singing in harmony. Rich, textural, beautiful and all working together for the good of one overarching song. But if everyone played or sang the same note for two hours, who would want to listen to that? It would become strident and unpleasant.

Will Samson has an interesting post today about politicians speaking about their faith. I agree with him, sorta. With reservations. I want to extend grace to the Democrats. I think he wants them stumping on their faith. Okay, perhaps I’m not giving him the benefit of the doubt here. But I’m linking to his post here for a reason. It is this, I’ve begun to think that speaking of religion and faith in the public square has become very narrow. It has become controlled by a narrow set of people with a narrow vocabulary. People who, if you will, want to listen to one note. They have asked us to listen for only one note. They have defined that note and caused the atmosphere in which we live to be such that now we can only hear that one note.

The problem is that we’re all singing and playing a harmony. We are living and speaking out of many notes. It’s all the same song but no one can hear that song any more. Sometimes a miracle occurs and someone can hear that one special note. But if you don’t play that note for the right amount of time, in the right place, wearing the right clothes … well then, no one will credit you with a proper faith. But you might have one … you might be singing or playing harmony. Who are we to judge? How can we know anymore? I know some might read this and throw the wide path/narrow road scripture at me. I agree with that, but don’t take it out of context. God is a great, big wide, creative God. He didn’t make us all to make one note. We need to learn how to listen to the whole song again, how to hear the melody as well as the harmony or harmonies, how to hear not just the voices but the orchestra too. How to put it all together and say with God of His Creation, it is good.

Behold, the lamb of God …

From the LightHouse to your house … Merry Christmas. I hope you have a lovely day with people who care about you and make you smile. Give some laughter away and push back the darkness a little.

As I began constructing this post in my head, the following lyrics sprang to mind:

sung to BINGO:

“My friend Johnny has a blog

And Smulo is his name-o

S M U LO

S M U LO

S M U LO

And Smulo is his name-o”

I hope from the bottom of my pea-pickin’ little heart that he will forgive me that travesty. 😉

He does have a blog and a fine one it is … fine enough that I read it and comment on it regularly. John has the singular pleasure of having served in ministry for more than several years in Australia and is now in California. So he is fortunate that his perspective on the church has some broader horizons than many of us. One of the very best things about his blog is that he focusses on nurturing conversations with and among the commenters on his posts. He manages on his blog to engage in community in a manner that I’ve yet to experience anywhere else in the blog-o-sphere.

He has a recent post entitled Emerging Liberals? and in it he asks questions about the labels “emerging” and “Emergent.” They are good questions. I began answering them in the comments. Some of my answers opened old wounds from my CLB. Strange that.I realized as I attempted to answer some of his questions that I am not comfortable wearing the “emerging” hat. While it is the tent of Christianity to which I most closely belong these days, I do not exactly feel as though I belong there. With the exception of age, I fit all the distinctives. But … really … I want to be an evangelical. I liked that. To be sure there is plenty wrong with the evangelical arm of Christ’s body (I’d make a list, but that would be uncharitable), but there is a lot that is right about it too. It’s where I grew up. It’s like saying that I’m no longer a “Naylor” because I’m married.

There are certain distinctives about being an evangelical Christian that are important to me. I’d like to still live in that tent. But for the most part, they won’t have me there. I’m too different from the rest of the crew. And I refuse to equate conformity with unity. So I’ve been doing some thinking the last couple of days about why I don’t fit anymore. Why don’t I just suck it up and go back if it’s so dang important to me?

Well, there are a couple of reasons. The first is this that I can’t be who I am and be in an evangelical church. Well, I haven’t found an evangelical church in my area where this is so. It may be that the crush of southern suburbia has created a church culture which is not healthy.

The second is almost more important. It is that the evangelical church, the Religious Right, and conservatives in general, have (over the past decade or so) more and more been defining themselves not by what they stand for, but by what they are against. And what they are against has narrowed their world into ever more restrictive borders. When I talk to Christians anymore I don’t hear what they are for, I hear about what they are taking a stand against. What they are defending against. It’s all in the negative. There’s nothing positive about that.

Well, the last time I checked the gospel was supposed to bring “Good News.” So when are we going to talk about what we’re FOR. When will the evangelical church talk about the good news they are bringing the world? It’s time to stand and have something worth fighting FOR. Let’s smile and bring in the Light … the Light that came to us 2000 years ago. Merry Christmas.

Today I get to preach. Well, I’m the content-provider. Or the person in the charge of the “non-sermonic exploration.” Whatever we call it at Common Table, I’m the person servin’ it up this morning. Hot and yummy. With just a little cinnamon and sugar so that it tastes good. More or less …….. photos of the whole service are here.

As we’ve been exploring the Jewish holidays and our Jewish heritage it has occurred to me that Jesus did not come to create a new religion. I’ve been doing a lot of studying about what it means to be Jewish and learning a lot about the holidays and theology of Judaism. And Jesus came to bring a new convenant and new life and many other things, but I don’t think a new religion was part of his plan. I think that’s what happened when men and women got involved. So while today is the third Sunday in Advent which we are celebrating. And it’s the third day of Hannukah, which we are also celebrating. It feels very right to me that we are weaving them together somehow and celebrating them together. That this is more in line with God’s original plan somehow than what we normally celebrate.

How many stories of the small winning against the mighty can we think of? (actual question to invite audience participation … )

1. David vs. Goliath
2. Frodo v. Sauron
3.
4.
5.

Generally speaking, the small don’t win. It’s hard to think of real life versions of the little guy who wins out. Are there any in this list? Did we think of any? We always root for the underdog. S/he often wins in the movies. But in real life … not so much. It can happen. But it’s so very, very rare … a sparkling diamond winking at us from the coal heap of history.

We’re going to look at one of those moments that wink at us this morning. It continues to wink at us and glisten year after year, reminding us with lights that God keeps His promises. That He stood by the small, the indigent, the slaves, and the poor in the past, in the present and in the future … now and until the end of the age.

Hannukah is a unique holiday. It’s rather unlike the Jewish high holidays we celebrated earlier this fall. Those holidays had been clearly marked, determined by the Torah, set aside by words of Hashem. The times, the seasons, the prayers, the celebrations … all determined and organized by God.

On the other hand, Hannukah is a holiday in which the times, the seasons, prayers and celebrations have been determined and organized by the rabbis. So it is one of the group of holidays referred to as a rabbinic holiday. It is a holiday which commemorates and gives thanks for the great things that God has done for the people of Israel. But it was not set apart for them by God. This will become an important distinction … but for now we have a story to tell.

One of the best known symbols of Chanukah is the Dreidel. A dreidel is a four sided top with a Hebrew letter on each side.

The four letters are:

SHIN, HEY, GIMEL, NUN

These letters mean “A Great Miracle Happened There.”In Israel the dreidel is a bit different in that their letters mean ” A Miracle Happened HERE!”

Once upon a time in a land that is far away with scrubby pines and not so much water lived a people who were small in stature, but large in spirit. They had been given the land by their Great Father in a time that was not forgotten, but had long since passed. They had many tales of a time when the Great Father had walked closely with them. Times when He had come to save them. Many believed it was He who had created this very earth and all which was upon it.

When the Great Father gave His people the land He also gave them a few rules by which to live. Actually there were 10. The Great Father loved his people. Sometimes they loved him back. Sometimes they didn’t do such a good job of following his rules. Sometimes they turned their faces from him entirely.

After many, many years of dancing with His people like this the Great Father continued to dance. He continued to seek after His people. They continued to run away and then turn around and run back. They didn’t seem to really know what they wanted. They were a fickle bunch. In the beginning, they followed the rules very very well and even built a beautiful building in which the Great Father could rest when He wished. It held all the best treasures they could find. The walls were lined with gold and precious stones. All of the fixtures were made of the finest materials. Even the lamps held oil that was finest, purest oil that ever was made. It took eight days to make the oil. Then it was sealed in special beautiful bottles with a seal stamped by the most important men in the building … just to make sure it was the real thing.

Sometimes though, even the best fathers take too long to make their promises come true. This seemed to be the case with these people. They loved their Great Father to be sure. But he seemed to be taking too long with certain of his promises. Like the promise He made that there would rise up among them a king of the whole world. What seemed to be happening was that empire after empire ran over their little piece of land, with its scrubby pines and very little water. At one time it had flowed with milk and honey, now they struggled to pasture their sheep and goats.

In their main city a group arose who thought it might be best to begin to do things the way the latest empire did things. This doesn’t seem bad, but it meant turning their back on some of the ways that were important to the Great Father. It meant snubbing Him. It meant defiling his house of rest, and not cleaning it for many, many years. This group began small both in numbers and in tactics. But as they gained momentum they gained numbers and they did more and more daring feats that snubbed the Great Father. Until at last there were only a few of the people clinging to the old ways and to the love of their Great Father. The final stroke came when laws were passed which outlawed the old ways and enshrined the new “modern” religion as good. No one seemed to care that the Great Father who had loved them, who had saved them and who had shown them mercy for years and years and years throughout tens of generations was being left behind in the dirt.

It turned out, though, that there were a few. Those brave few stood up to the many when they came to the town and required a repugnant sacrifice on the altar of the Great Father. When a more timid soul stepped forward to comply, he was cut down in revolt at the requirement. Soldiers were sent to quell this outbreak, but though it lasted three years and the numbers were tiny, the force of the soldiers could not put it out. In the end, the Maccabees won back Judea for the Great Father. They regained the Temple and it’s surrounding environs in Jerusalem. They purified it again and in so doing found the menorah (lamp) but only one flask of oil.

This presented them with a conundrum. For once lit, the lamp must not be allowed to burn out. However, it could not be filled with anything other than the speciallly prepared oil which took 8 days to prepare. There was only oil for one day available. The Maccabees in a step of the faith that won them Jerusalem, stepped again and lit the lamp, and light burned for 8 days while new oil was prepared.

That light became for them the reminder that the Great Father who seemed to desert them, had in fact, been with them all along. While many had been unfaithful, He had been faithful. He had remained near his house of rest. He had remained near his people and walked with them, even when they turned their faces away from Him.

So every year at this time, they (we) re-light those lights to remember that faithfulness. To be thankful for His faithfulness and to remind themselves to be faithful even when it appears that the Great Father is not. The lights are a reminder of miracles long ago and miracles for today. They are a reminder that the Great Father still walks with us, that he keeps his promises to us even in the humblest of places, and in the most surprising ways ….

Mary runs in here …. with the Magnificat reworked as for today’s teens

“….Okay, Okay….I know this sounds crazy, and it’s pretty out there, but just hear me out.
I can’t begin to describe how amazing this is, but I’ve been saved by God!

He saw me struggling here on earth so he sent an angel to me! Yeah, that’s right an angel, you might get advice from a friend, but I got an angel. And he told me from now on people will know MY NAME because God has been thinking about me and is going to do awesome things in my life! He will always do awesome things for those that remember Him.

Listen, I’ve realized some pretty wicked stuff about this God guy, He’s not like anyone else you will ever meet;

He always is gonna be there for you, just wanting to be with you. He’s not like those conceited jocks; he so real and just down to earth

He always sticks up for the little guy and will keep the jerks in line.

He’s a giver to the outcasts, and uncool.
But He’s turned away the popular, arrogant guys

He helped out Israel, by remembering us and remembering to be understanding
to Abraham and his children forever and ever — just like He promised he would!

God always keeps his promises….”

What! What’s this you say? You have been visited by an angel? What did he tell you? Tell us again, please? What are you saying?

Wow … and yet again we are reminded that the Great Father, our Great Father, has not forgotten us. He remains merciful. He has sent our king. Our saviour. These lights are reminder to us that we have choices to make. Like Mary.

Mary was handed her lunch. By an angel. By all the rules and regulations she should have been stoned at the city gate in Jerusalem as an adulteress. Joseph didn’t have many choices either. Neither of them was facing a lovely future with her being pregnant before the consummation of their vows. Just how many people in this room believe this little story concocted here about an angel visiting this teenager? Yah … that.

But Mary remembered. She remembered the promises. She remembered who God is and who God was. She remembered the lights of Hannukah. She remembered how many times God stood behind the little people and caused them to win. And she sang a song of praise and protest. She stood up and claimed God. A little girl, from a little town in a little land took on the empire. Because she had God at her back.

She remembered her fathers and mothers who had seen the Temple ravaged and not seen the destruction, but seen God’s promises. She remembered her mothers and fathers who had seen Pharaoh, and not seen his power, but God’s might. She remembered her fathers and mothers who seen empires come and go, but God remained. The tyrants might make life here difficult for the little guy, but she tells us that God has our back. He has made promises and He will keep them; He is keeping them; He did keep them.

That is the beauty of Hannukah. That is the beauty of the Magnificat. They help us to remember that we always have a choice in how we look at the world. We can see the Temple as it was when the Maccabees retook it … defiled, destroyed, denuded and debased. OR we can see it with the eyes of God: beautiful, whole, perfect, filled with potential. We can see with the eyes of Mary’s family … adulteress, loser, defiled, debased. OR we can see with eyes of God: beautiful, whole, perfect, filled with potential.

We can see a family of three with the eyes of the world: adulteress, no father, no home, loser, defiled, debased. Or we can choose to see them with the eyes of God: beautiful, whole, perfect, filled with potential.

Most of us get the things of God confused. But there are a few who manage to see the diamonds winking out of the coal. Most of us see the world through the lens of what is. But there are a few who manage to see what could be. Most of us see giants in the land. But there are a few who manage to see milk and honey..

So … what if life really were like a hockey game. What if there were refs who would call time outs and do overs and you could just knock someone’s block off and then take your time in the penalty box when you saw an injustice being done? What if, finally, justice were really blind … and the big guys were going to get what was coming to them. What if … we could count on Sauron losing … in real life? What if we could finally put it all to bed … and know that the likes of Saddam Hussein would be out of business without hundreds of thousands of others losing their lives in the meanwhile. Or that wars would really be fought over human rights. So that the lives of dark skinned people were really valuable even when their land wasn’t.

Mary sang of all those things … and more. She dared to imagine a world where Herod could not be in charge because God remembered the promises he’d made in Isaiah. To Mary, a new king was about to be born. A political king. The kind of king that would give Herod a thump on the head and send him to the penalty box for all the wrongs he had done. Whereas the Maccabees had stood up and taken control for themselves, now God was truly stepping in and sending the long awaited Mesioch. The Redeemer, the savior. And Mary sang a song of dissent. She sang a song to tell Herod that his time had come, to tell all the Herods, small and large, that their time was up. The time had come for the scales of justice to be set right.. For the hungry to have food and the poor to have a place to lay their heads and the sick to be well.

As it turned out though, Mary had it right in some parts but wrong in others. God did remember us, He **was** keeping his promises and He was sending His son. His redeemer, a Savior. But as Mary learned and we continue to learn, God’s ways are not our ways and He does not think the way we think. We see giants in the land, but He sees it flowing with milk and honey. We see the roots and where, how and when we are going to stub our toes, but He sees the tree tops. If we will follow Him, trust Him for the journey He will dispense with the bullies, the Herods, the giants, the Greeks … the little people will win occasionally. We might not recognize it. We have to have our God-eyes on to see it.

We must ask God for that shift in perspective to be able to view His Kingdom today. To be able to see the world as Mary did … taking a cataclysmic shameful estate and knowing it to be the provision of God for her and her people.

So, today, we light the candles and remember:

SHIN, HEY, GIMEL, NUN

A great miracle happened there.

A great miracle continues to happen … each day within each of us as we follow God. As we seek His Kingdom here and now and maybe not yet. A great miracle happens as we open our hearts to Him and learn to see the world with His eyes. As we see people not for what they can do, but for who they are … God’s beloved creation. As we walk beside them for a few steps in their journey back to wholeness. As we help them out of their bondage in Egypt, back to a land flowing with milk and honey. As each of us does those things, we become more like Mary – singing of a redeemer – more like the Maccabees – redeeming the Temple – and more like the persons God created us to be … and more and more we also become tiny diamonds winking out of the coal dust.

A great miracle happens here, too …

Today is World AIDS Day 2006. No … that’s not a celebration. No, it’s not a holiday. It’s meant to call attention to the pandemic we’re living in.

Almost 40,000,000 people worldwide have HIV or full-blown AIDS. More than 2,000,000 of these are children under the age of 15. They get it from their mothers. That is, they are born with it. Did you hear me??!! BORN with it. They are born with a death sentence. In some manner I suppose we all are. But in this instance it is somewhat different. These children are born with a horrible illness which carries a stigma and they will never be healthy, then … they will die. They will also likely spend a significant time as orphans. This … because their mothers are caught in the web of a culture which uses, abuses and then tosses them in the trash heap.

There’s not much we can do to change the culture. There’s not a whole lot we can do to stop people from having sex. But here’s what you can do.

I bet you have $10. Almost everyone has $10. Especially at this time of year. So, take $10 and donate it towards anti-virals to be sent to the moms in Africa. At the very least, we can help the moms. That’s the very least we can do. Help the mothers stay with their children. Help the children grow up. Learn to live. Make a donation for life. If you really are pro-life, here’s a way to make a stand. This is part of the consistent life ethic. Being about life … rather than death.

We must no longer condemn these innocents to death. Rather we must continue the mission … set the captives free, restore sight to the blind, release the oppressed. Look at at all the good stuff $10 can do!

I was out browsing the web the other morning and this pop-up ad appeared on one of the sites I visited. I tried to ignore it. I found myself thinking, “No … I don’t wish I was there. I wish I had that body.” Yeah, well … if I ever did have a body like that, I never will again. Not even close. No matter what I do. Gravity and time have removed the possibility. I wondered why it is that having such a body is so important. I have the body I was born with. It’s healthy and never given me too much trouble. So why do I think I need something else?

It made me think about the hoo-raw in the blogosphere over a certain pastor on the west coast and his ill-thought out words about pastor’s wives letting themselves go in the aftermath of the Ted Haggard incident. In the main, I think that this pastor is somewhat of a lightening rod. He prefers it this way. He loves the spotlight and attention given him when he uses his potty-mouth. Somewhat like a small child, negative attention is better than nothing at all. He stirs the pot and people run around waving their arms and calling for his dismissal. It’s standard fare. Yes, his paradigm is harmful to women. It is. There is no doubt. But we cannot change that. We can’t make him change his stripes.

There are two places my thoughts about all of this have gone. The first is that I’ve continued down the path of wondering how one goes about forgiving those who do not repent. This pastor is not ever going to recant or turn from saying the words he said. He doesn’t think they are wrong. In his paradigm of how the world works, they are not. We can’t expect an apology for wrong thinking from someone who doesn’t think he is. If I have been hurt or offended by him, how do I go about forgiving him? How exactly does that work?

I started to think more deeply tho, about how that paradigm is harmful to women. And to men. We talk in the Christian community about how the male-female issue is not central to issues of the faith, therefore we need to let our brothers and sisters who believe differently alone. I’m beginning to question that philosophy tho. Because the Traditional/ Complementarian point of view (that is that women are subject to men) is harmful to women and ultimately it is harmful to men as well. I read this post on a blog I follow regularly and couldn’t help but wonder who was served by the Traditionalist viewpoint that was being lived out. This is not a healthy relationship by any measure and both the woman and the man are being harmed by paradigm they are living in. So while this may not be an issue central to the faith, I have to wonder, if it is harming brothers and sisters, oughtn’t we to be doing more to protect them? I’m just not so sure anymore …

If we as a community are called to be the Body of Christ, called to continue his mission, then that means we are called to continue the ministry he announced in Luke 4:18. We are called to set the captives free. I believe that means observing who in our society are captives. Who is being constrained in our communities because of the accident of race, gender or class? What can we do to redeem that? There are paradigms which are wrong and cause harm. Which cause captives to remain captive and strain against their chains. So just what do we do with that?

Ted Haggard, president of the National Association of Evangelicals and Senior Pastor at New Life Church in Colorado Springs, CO, has been the latest domino to fall. It’s alleged that he’s been having an affair, bought and paid for, with a man for about three years under an assumed name. He’s admitted to having purchased (but not consumed) methamphetamines with this man.

Here are the things I find interesting about this. The first is that until late in the day yesterday, many articles did not give the male escort/prostitute a name. He had a name and I’m sure it was known since he came out in a radio broadcast on Wednesday. But the news articles did not use this name for quite some time.

The second is the startling similarities between Pastor Haggard’s response to the allegations that he used methamphetamines (i.e. he bought them, but never used them) and President Clinton’s response to allegations that he used marijuana (i.e. he smoked it, but never inhaled). President Clinton’s response has been the butt of jokes and fodder for hate and fear for many years. It will be interesting to see how the evangelical community responds to Pastor Haggard’s claims.

I feel very badly for Pastor Haggard. If the allegations are true (and it appears that they may be), his body has been saying one thing, but his mind has been saying something else. He cannot be true to one without being false to the other. He has been living with his feet in two worlds. He has been caught in a bind for many years. On the other hand, if the allegations are false, he and his family have been put in a terrible position. Either way, here is a family in a terrible crisis and pain. I sincerely pray God’s peace, comfort and grace in their midst as they walk through this valley of shadow.

I can see people in both camps lining up, preparing their slings and arrows. Preparing their armaments to defend their virtue and honor. The reality is that we have all failed. Whether or not Pastor Haggard actually did anything is really beside the point anymore. The fact that so many are willing to believe that he did means that we have failed. The fact that so many are willing to believe that he didn’t without any evidence means that we have failed. The fact that the church has done so little to protect and nurture its leaders means that the church has failed and failed catastrophically. This incident points to a catatonic failure in our culture on many levels. The fact that so many on both sides of the issue are counting coups and waiting for the votes to fall their way because of it, frankly sickens me.

For me, of course, it’s the church that is of great concern.  Not simply the New Life Church that Pastor Haggard led, not just the National Association of Evangelicals, but the church worldwide, the Body of Christ if you will.  It seems to me, that not only has the church failed in allowing this to happen but it might even be said that we set Pastor Haggard up for this.  The institutional church in north America is structured in such a way that the leaders must fractured lives of perfection in front of their flocks.  Smiling, straight teeth, combed hair, suits, wives either in the choir or gazing adoringly from the first row of pews with children lined up in a row.  The sermon must be neither too short nor too long or his livelihood will be cut short.  Everyone must be kept happy.  Suddenly it is not the paradoxes of the Gospel which must be held in tension, but the desires of Mrs. Snooty-nose and Mr. Grabby-fingers.  The leaders above him in his denomination are preaching a straight-jacket theology of graceless adherence to codes of conduct rather than the Law of Love.  The wonder is not that this happened to Pastor Haggard, but that it doesn’t happen more often.

We need to be able to come to a place in our society where we are able to love the people we disagree with. Where we do not objectify or feel threatened by those who do things that make us feel uncomfortable. I wonder how things might have been different for Pastor Haggard or someone else in a similar position if we didn’t just condemn and throw stones at wrongdoers. Despite the fact that we’ve done away with physical stoning, we still manage to do terrible damage to people with metaphorical stones and I think back to the story in the Bible of the woman caught in prostitution who was brought before Jesus for proper judgment, condemnation and punishment (stoning). He sank to the ground and began writing in the sand with his finger. Then he said, “He who is without sin may cast the first stone.” When everyone had left the square (except the woman) he turned to her and said, “What? is no one left to condemn you? Then I won’t condemn you either. Go and sin no more.”

So, I’m still embroiled in the discussion over on Brother Maynard’s blog about Muslims and Christians and a proper response to terrorism.

It’s gotten me thinking, though.  Some of you probably smelled the smoke 😉 .

How might the world today be different if, after the 9/11 attacks, our Christ-professing President, and Christian leaders (Franklin Graham, James Dobson, Jimmy Swaggart, et al) had forgiven those who had attacked us?  What if they had lead this country in an example of forgiveness, grace and mercy following the example of the God they profess to follow?  Close your eyes for a minute or two and try to imagine the myriad of ways in which the world today might be a different place.

I’m not suggesting that this could have actually happened.  I’m just suggesting that it never will, until we begin to imagine how it might.

I wonder how many fewer terrorists there might be, because there would be less evil for Al Qaeda to point to.  Al Jazeera would be reporting on Christian good will, rather than Christian ill will.  I wonder what the ripple effects might have been.  Here, as well as abroad.  What are some of the effects that you can imagine?  Tell me about them in the comments … I’d love to know.