I’ve commented often about my “fundamentalist” background. To be sure, I grew up a staunch conservative, in a conservative Christian household. As an adolescent, into my very early twenties, I tried to be a “culture warrior.” I tried to fight the battles I was expected to fight as a dyed-in-the-wool, American Evangelical.
I’ve told you about the time in middle school that I rollerbladed door-to-door, passing out anti-gay marriage literature (because rollerblading was the most heterosexual mode of transportation available to a 13-year-old, which isn’t saying much…).
Several times in grade school, my sister and I sat with my mother at a table in the local shopping mall to gather signatures for an anti-abortion campaign.
We went to the state capital once, with picket signs. In high school, I competed and won at several Right to Life oratory contests.
I’m not listing this to prove what a gawdawful fundamentalist I was. There are perfectly lovely people with rigidly conservative worldviews (and godviews). When I talk about the fundamentalism in ME, it is truly a commentary on the posture of my heart.Fundamentalism, as I’ve experienced and encountered it, as well as practiced it, is a posture always inclined against something. It is too often angry, too often outraged, too often indignant, morally justified, shocked, appalled, offended, and perhaps most importantly, self-justified enough to take any means necessary to do just about anything. Picket signs, nasty rants, fingers pointing in faces, blog rants (oops) and it gets worse, doesn’t it? So frankly, when my friends tap me on the shoulder from time to time and say, “Peter, what’s with the vitriol on your blog lately?” it’s not because I’ve become such an outrageous liberal. In truth, it’s because I haven’t changed enough. It’s because I’m still wrestling with that same angry little fundamentalist I’ve always had in me – the one who feels self-justified at finger pointing in moral outrage and righteous indignation. I just point in a different direction these days…
I’ve mentioned my parents from time to time, as I mentioned my mother above, and it’s not entirely been fair. Despite their conservatism, and even their occasional political involvement, I’ve actually never witnessed either one of them manifest the sort of “hellfire” that comes too naturally for me. A few weeks ago I was visiting my parents, and found myself ranting about something to do with evangelicals. My parents listened respectfully – non-judgmentally. And it occurred to me that throughout my life, I’ve come back from different churches, from youth trips, from classes, college, seminary, you name it, and over the years my beliefs have continued to evolve. Each time I come home, my parents listen respectfully – non-judgmentally. I even think they take me seriously, God bless them. They ask questions. They’ve been encouraging. They even visited a church with a lesbian pastor without flinching, and had nice things to say about it.
Are my parents conservative? Sure. But the truth is, I think I’m the only one in my family who actually struggles with fundamentalism…
My friend Becky Garrison sent me this link yesterday, to an article she wrote for the UK Guardian. It’s a great piece on moves within the Anglican Communion to recognize and facilitate greater understanding and “space” for transsexual clergy and people in the church. More broadly, it has implications for the church in general, as it grapples with issues of gender, sexuality and identity.
Becky writes:
Last week, the Rev Dr Christina Beardsley, vice-chair of Changing Attitude, a network of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and heterosexual members of the Church of England, was one of the voices featured on 4Thought.tv‘s week of short films featuring trans people and faith.
While the US Episcopal church developed a maverick reputation within the Anglican communion for blessing same sex marriages and ordaining gay and lesbian clergy, the House of Bishops of the General Synod of the Church of England’s report Some Issues in Human Sexuality, issued in 2003, contained a chapter titled “Transsexualism”. Currently, one can find about a half dozen trans clergy in the UK and US. These numbers are imprecise, as some clergy do not wish to go public beyond the scope of their individual parish or diocese – a concern that’s understandable given that the trans community seldom receives even the legal protections afforded gays and lesbians .
Beardsley, who was ordained for 23 years prior to her transition in 2001, observes that “some within the Church of England feel the issue of trans clergy has been settled” by citing such cases as the Rev Carol Stoneand the Rev Sarah Jones. However, she says: “Not all trans clergy have been supported by their bishop, as these two priests were, and some have been excluded from full-time ministry because of Church of England opt-outs from UK equality legislation.”
During the 2008 Lambeth conference, a decennial gathering of Anglican bishops, Beardsley organised a panel titled “Listening to Trans People”. While only four bishops attended this gathering, it represented the highest number of bishops to participate in an Inclusive Network to date. Also, this panel helped consolidate Changing Attitude’s networking with Sibyls, a UK-based Christian spirituality group for trans people, and the US-based online community TransEpsicopal…
…The Rev Christopher Fike, vicar of Christ Episcopal Church in Sommerville, Massachusetts, who transitioned in 2003 after having served in a fairly high-profile position as a female cleric, believes that moving this memorial to the cathedral signifies that the church views this as a justice issue. He says: “The more we normalise people who are outside the typical in their gender expression, the more room there is for that range of expression. We no longer have to hide our real identity from the church.”
The Rt Rev M Thomas Shaw, SSJE, Bishop of Massachusetts, admits that ordaining and providing pastoral oversight to trans clergy proved to be a life-changing experience for him. Initially, he struggled with the idea and the reality of having trans clergy until he saw they were doing the same ministry as everyone else.
From 3-10 April, Transgender Faith Action Week will be held in the Boston area in the hope of bringing forth faith leaders from different traditions to increase awareness of the trans community in religious circles. Partridge, one of the organisers, says: “We call upon the church to consider carefully its vision of theological anthropology, its theological vision of the human person. How does gender factor into our conception of the human?” After all, in Genesis 1:26, God created ha-adam, a nonsexual term that means “human being”. Then, after he created humanity, she declared that it all was “very good”.
A couple of posts back I mentioned Rob Bell’s new book on hell, and a series of thoughtful posts by my friend Chad Holtz commenting on the book and wrestling with the impact of the subject matter.
Sadly, Chad’s rejection of the Doctrine of Hell – and his public postings on the blogosphere about it – lost him his job as a pastor. He writes:
In case you are not a friend of mine on FB (where this first appeared as a note last week) nor read Emergent Village, below is the final straw that precipitated my early release from my present position as pastor. I hold no ill will towards those who feel it is best I shake the dust and move on. In all actuality, my love for them has only increased along with my conviction that what I’ve written here is true – or rather, MUST be true! For if our eternal fate is determined solely by our many choices here, as opposed to the choice already made for us in Christ, then we, most assuredly, are all damned… Love does, indeed, win. To God be the glory.
Pretty brave and gracious words. I sort of doubt I’d manage that response – especially given that he’s got kids to feed. Without knowing ANYTHING about Chad’s church (except that it’s United Methodist, and I had a great experience for several years at a very liberal UMC church that wouldn’t have blinked over rejection of hell) I’m left with this picture in my mind: a church (and not just this one – many churches) is so passionately committed to its belief in hell, that it will fire a pastor with young children – in an economy like this – rather than tolerate theological dissonance.
Now I’m making all sorts of assumptions here, and I’m trying not to be quick to judge. Chad’s showing enough grace that I can follow suit, but this is the model I’ve seen time and again in my own sphere of friends: Pastors fired for “wrong belief” (meaning: they didn’t tow the “party line”) which put them, their spouses, and their children, in line for food stamps. THAT’S how we function? THAT’S how we deal with theological disagreement? THAT’S how we treat leadership that stretches us? Meanwhile, many of these churches vote to end so-called “entitlement” programs like food stamps, welfare, unemployment… hmmm…
But I guess it’s better than what we used to do to heretics. No more burning at the stake, right?
Again, without presuming to know ANY of the details of Chad’s ordeal beyond the fact that his church couldn’t handle his rejection of hell, I’ve seen too many situations where the fruits of the spirit are thrown out the window in defense of theology. Isn’t that kind of backwards?
We’ve been praying this many of the last few Sundays:
O God, if we thought even a little about our failures in love and courage in the time since last we gathered, there’d be no strength for praise. Each of us brings some specific tearing of the fabric of your grace, some erosion of the time given for making peace and sharing hope. But what binds us most is our staring only at the dark, the self-pride which assumes that until we are perfect, you will not come among us and that no good thing can happen. From this rejection of your grace, deliver us. Heal us through the fair wind of your Spirit, and bring us always closer to the knowledge of your love. In Jesus’ name we pray.
Amen.
It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but it’s a lot deeper – a lot richer – than so many of the quick prayers we all-too-easily regurgitate and move on from on Sunday mornings. These words stay with me. Self-reflection robs us of our strength because we see ourselves for the broken things we are, but it can also immediately remind us of our need for something beyond ourselves. Call it grace or redemption. Call it salvation (but you can leave out the fire and brimstone implications). So we pray for that redemption – we pray that grace saves us from that dark tunnel of fear and self-pride. We all tear the fabric. It’s unavoidable. We aren’t meant to be perfect. We’re meant to stop trying to be. “Bring us always closer to the knowledge of your love. In Jesus’ name…”
David,
You said, “What I wish to say concerning that sensibility is that it is largely habitual, and radically influenced by acculturation.”
This is absolutely true, but I also reject the premise that Scripture reveals an absolute truth upon which relative, contextual morality can be judged or measured. Truths? Yes. But not a static measuring bar. This is why I still argue that we have to follow our own contextual pursuits of goodness (in our cases, in the name of Christ) — because it’s the only option there has ever been. It ain’t perfect, though, to be sure, which is where your critique is well placed, I think. There isn’t a universally accessible universal measure for truth. His name is Jesus, but we had him in the flesh for 30-some years, so the window was tight, and even then, he didn’t seem interested in Q&A’s or writing up FAQ’s.
Yes, we have the Torah to measure our actions against. And we do have Jesus’ words from the Gospels. Yes we have all of the New Testament, Paul’s letters. And (of course) the Tao Te Ching.
But all of these texts have been co-opted by countless agendas and twisted by innumerable interests. So we’re back to square one: choosing to act on our internal conscience – perhaps informed by the witness and perspective of the Canon.
The other point I wanted to make is that I realize the pop-Emergent dichotomy of orthodoxy vs. orthopraxy is a false one. No one should be forced to make a choice between good works and right belief. Either/or is unnecessary and even cruel to the believer.
But what is “right belief?” And what is “orthodoxy?” There are enough robust, respectable (?) theological traditions to confound and confuse all of our attempts at “streamlining” (or simplifying?) our identifiers, vocabulary and ultimately, the paradigms we inhabit.
David, I think I hear where you’re coming from. One of the biggest dangers with my argument is “slippery slope.” What’s next? And what’s the vantage from which we measure truth or goodness? I’m not sure there is one, but I’m an existentialist…
I also remember you mentioning – awhile back – my reference to the LGBT issue being “the last issue,” and I think it was well stated in terms of how I worded my argument. I did not mean that the gay and lesbian issue was the last moral issue for the church to struggle with, and once that issue was dealt with, we were all done. Far from it! Instead, I was suggesting that — particularly in the context of George Fox Seminary — we’ve found a way to deal with almost all of the most controversial social issues facing evangelicals today (at least, those I was confronted with growing up in a conservative evangelical environment). We can find tools to theologically rationalize gender equality, drinking alcohol, voting democrat (ha!), supporting pacifism, dancing, believing in evolution…
The truth is, acknowledging women are equals and could be (should be!) senior pastors, and accepting evolution as a component of creation, were just as difficult for me as coming to believe that my queer sisters and brothers are my equals, and could be (should be!) senior pastors, not to mention affirmed and accepted members of our churches.
So society will change, norms will change, battles will evolve, shift, and… change. And what I think is right today will evolve too… Christianity will always have battles to fight – both internal and external. If we want to change the world, we have to change ourselves.
I was just merely pointing out that we’ve conveniently found ways to justify just about everything we WANT to justify – as evangelicals. My theory is, the reason we haven’t constructed a cogent justification for validating LGBT folks in our midst is that they remain largely invisible. Until our church systems see quantifiable value in advocating for them, they’ll remain invisible and undefended. Which is pretty damn sad.
As always David, thanks for the enjoyable dialogue.
Instead of obsessing over which is the “RIGHT” belief (hopeless, indeed, and an adventure in missing the point of life and religion and being human, I think) I think it’s better to choose the belief or praxis that does the most GOOD.
I first started listening to the Euro-synth duo Erasure in early middle school, and had no idea then that beginning in 1986, lead vocalist Andy Bell was one of the first openly gay music stars in the world. Because of his openness with his sexuality, Erasure’s success with US record labels was severely hampered. The studios still sold their records (they still took their money), but publicity was muted, and noteworthy Erasure music videos featured Andy tragically singing to women. Gentrified for American sensibilities.
There are all sorts of ways that we take people’s money without affirming them. We marginalize them as we profit from them. We do it in our churches. In our universities. I used to attend a church whose denomination claimed to affirm female pastors, but whose large pastoral staff of eight full time ministers were all male, and whose board would not even consider female deacons. I attend a seminary that, for all its virtues as a well-intentioned emerging Evangelical institution (and it’s been very good to me) does not affirm my queer sisters and brothers (even though at LEAST one has paid tuition and she sat in classes next to me – she doesn’t attend anymore. I miss you Adele).
What exactly is at stake? Biblical coherence? A literal six day creation? Women’s subordination to men? A premillenial rapture? I mean, how is this gay thing the linchpin of our whole theological system? How is it the one final holdout, as we peel away slavery and racism and drinking alcohol and working on Sundays (or Saturdays) and believing in evolution and doing away with biblical inerrancy (we did most of these, right?) and empowering women (we try to)? Why is is this gay thing the one thing we just can’t stand for? Why is it different? Why this issue, when all the others have already fallen away?
Takes awhile for this song to get going, but it’s awfully beautiful.
Is there a connection between art/creativity and Christianity? Is creativity spiritual in nature? Is there such a thing as “Christian Art”? Does creativity have anything to do with spiritual formation? What is needed for art to qualify as Christian? Is our theology shaped or influenced by creativity/art? Is creativity/art vital to our faith? How does creativity/art impact Christian thought and/or Christian praxis? Is there a particular form of art that has impacted your spiritual journey? Should there be a distinction between sacred and secular art? Is Christianity experiencing a “creative crisis”? Is creativity and our knowledge of God connected?
Great questions to be asking, and it’s hard for me to separate my answer from my own immediate, contemporary experience. At present, Western Christianity continues to be the mass distributor and repository of some of the worst, tackiest, most belabored and derivative art and entertainment produced en masse.
Plus One, the Christian boyband knockoff of boyband knockoffs;
the Left Behind book series,glorifying hyper-American Christo-centric violence and selling millions upon millions of copies, making multi-millionaires out of bad writers (and, incidentally, bad theologians);
K-Love Christian radio mass-distributes Christian pop that makes the TV show Glee (which I incidentally do enjoy) seem like high art;
or why not just Google Image “Christian Art” and try counting how many bad paintings of lions, muscled-Jesuses (“Jesi”?), angels, or people hugging Christ you can count…
I don’t mean to sound callous, but it’s like walking through the religious greeting cards section at Walmart. That’s not the fault of people who shop at Walmart – they’re being told what it means to be American (and, it follows, to be Christian)…
Yet going back, further, through the history of Christendom, we can find some of the most gorgeous examples in existence of artistic creativity and brilliance. Now, it could certainly be argued that under a thousand years of absolute papal power, and hundreds of years of continuing church rule, there was little option for artists to do anything but create under the auspices of Christian Empire… and that argument would be largely correct. Nonetheless, the church – throughout the ages – was a proponent - of artistic beauty and exercise. It even aided in the development and protection of artists (often looking the other way, ignoring bohemian sins and excesses for the sake of the beautiful images that resulted from their eccentric creators).
I would love to answer the questions above with an emphatic, “YES! OF COURSE Christianity, deeply connected to the Spirit of the living, creative God, instills in us a creative spirit that inspires and compels us to create beautiful things.” And I actually believe that about God. I believe that the God I seek after is indeed a creative being who loves beauty and is revealed to us through beauty. But I don’t believe predominant Christian culture has any concern for making beautiful things. We’re too preoccupied with counting how many new attendees we’ve managed to attract from Sunday to Sunday, what our visibility in the community is, and if our current marketing campaign closely aligns with contemporary pop-cultural trends. Better that our worship services feature hits from the latest WOW Christian Hits compilation, which might sound like the latest MTV Party To Go compilation (if they were lucky)… except that they aren’t making WOW compilations anymore… or MTV Party To Go albums anymore… but none of that matters as long as the 40-somethings in our churches (those are the young and hip) think it seems “funky.”
But my short answer? There is no separation between sacred and secular. Christianity can be a safe place for genuine art when Christianity lets go of its agendas for trying to manipulate art to meet its short term conversion, budget, advertising and attendance goals. Art and religion can and should overlap – at times – but they should never be required to. There is so much more to life than religion, and I’ll bet God gets damn depressed when folks never leave their churches – their cloistered communities – sterilized pews and sanctuaries – and never turn their radio stations from K-Love. There’s so much that’s beautiful in this world to experience without a Jesus fish stamped on it! Thanks be to God.
I’m sure it’s pretty clear from reading this blog that religion – Christianity – is one of the strongest driving forces in my life. Even if my Christianity doesn’t look like yours. There’s little in my life that comes close to taking the passion, the time, the thought, the care or the love that my faith does. But it’s because Christ is so important to me that I find injecting Christ into inappropriate places, in tacky, thoughtless ways, so vulgar and inappropriate.
Ours is a creative God. I hope we can be a more creative people…
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Here are some other participants in this month’s Synchroblog:
Continuing a great conversation with my friend from George Fox Seminary, David Manning.
David Said:
And my belief in the vision of Christ and the Kingdom of God is real enough that it doesn’t hinge on anything but itself.
If your belief is a real thing in itself, and doesn’t have to signify anything beyond itself, then in what sense can you and I—we both being Christians—be said to share the same faith? I can see how the phrase “we both believe X” has meaning if we both have a similar belief that corresponds to a thing exterior to us both, but if the correspondence to something objective isn’t important, how can two individuals be said to belong to the same faith?
The Cross and Resurrection illuminated Christ and illustrated salvation. They did not invent, define or limit them (imho).
This seems to assume that there is *something* out there that corresponds to the idea of salvation. What sort of thing is it? On what basis is it founded? Whatever it is, why is it a more acceptable basis for salvation than the historical Incarnation?
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This is a GREAT question: “can you and I… be said to share the same faith?” David, I would answer that, by the grace of God, yes. But qualitatively? Maybe not really…
Just as I believe that our faith in God, through Christ, is made whole and complete through the grace of God that reaches out and meets us, I also believe that our faith — our conception of God — and our feeble attempts at understanding Divinity, “aiming” toward truth and responding appropriately — are inevitable failures in and of themselves. So I would say, David, we share the same faith because we share the same wholehearted, authentic desire to follow God, through Christ, although our understanding of what that means is divergent. But David, wouldn’t you agree that even if you and I used the exact same language, and had no identifiable differences in our theological constructs, our psychology/neurology, personality, and even our minor geographic and cultural, differences would all contribute to hugely dissimilar internal meanings for all those constructs? I think so. If any of us is ever on the same page, it’s only momentary, and even then we’re on different paragraphs.
This is why I’m also willing to call my neighbors from other faith traditions “sister” and “brother,” and why I call my time with my agnostic friends “fellowship.” We are on parallel paths, although our language is different. I don’t believe I am endangering or sacrificing my salvation or theirs by dropping my need (and it used to be a very strong need, indeed!) to self-differentiate.
Love your question about salvation, too. I’m a universalist, and my language on salvation gets me into trouble, because I call myself an evangelical too, and sometimes I get myself trapped! Part of that is because I haven’t worked through all of the intricacies of what it means to be a liberal, evangelical, universalist (+douchebag) and part of it is because I believe that there are inherent tensions in these identifiers that cannot be resolved. And perhaps should not be. And as I’ve said before, I’m an evangelical for cultural reasons as much as any other factor.
So, I believe that God is an inherently salvific being, and that creation is in a process both of being created and saved, and of being maligned and destroyed. I believe creation wins, on the long arch “that bends toward justice,” but it doesn’t happen by magic. It happens by the steady, deliberate march of the people of the Kingdom of God.
I believe that Christ, as the Son of God, the Second Person of the Trinity, Co-Equal with the [Gender-Neutral] Father, and the Spirit, demonstrated on earth the Divine nature of God and what human beings were capable of in perfect spiritual submission: forgiveness, unconditional love, subversive, counterintuitive Kingdom economics/politics (I’d rather not get into all that here).
I believe that the inevitable response of Principalities and Powers to the nature of God (true, pure, goodness) is to destroy it. I also believe that, often, the response of those oppressed by Principalities and Powers is to lash out against the “other” victim, when the system exerts itself elsewhere. This is self preservation. So something I dealt with (briefly) in this Banned Questions book is that arguing about whether or not Christ’s crucifixion was a “requirement” of atonement by God has been an unnecessary theological exercise. Not right or wrong (necessarily) but not necessary. Probably inevitable, in that we like to explain everything, and put God behind the reins, but I don’t believe humanity needed “atonement.”
Do I believe in sin? Absolutely! Do I believe sin distances us from God? Well, I believe sin is dysfunction and lack of health, so when we are unhealthy we have a harder time connecting to Divinity – of course. But I do not believe God needed recompense, or to be “satisfied,” or that Satan had to be paid ransom. This is more than simply “moral influence,” because I choose to believe Christ was God, and that God revealed Divine nature, Divine will, Divine Mercy and Humility, Divine love – Divine desire and intent – through Christ’s Theophany. It showed MORE than what humankind was capable of. Christ shows us what God is up to…
So I believe that the process of salvation has been in operation since the Big Bang (pow!) and that God is mysteriously, subversively (frustratingly-slowly, imho) wooing all of creation toward redemption. That salvation is working its way through every society, culture, and religious tradition, not necessarily making any of them salvific in and of themselves, but all of them marked with the presence of the Holy Spirit.
I could go on and on, and as I re-read what I’ve written, all of the “I believe’s” strike me as more than a tad narcissistic. But so is blogging, in general. David, again, you asked, “Whatever it is, why is it a more acceptable basis for salvation than the historical Incarnation.” I hope that I’ve demonstrated that the historical Incarnation actually is my basis for what salvation is. I simply don’t believe that the historical Incarnation is the matrix in which salvation exists, or that it serves as a boundary or limitation for salvation’s identity. The Incarnation is a window through which we view something much larger – ultimately incomprehensible.
In response to my post the other day on choosing belief, some good comments. (excerpts)
David Manning said: Do you wake up every morning with the option to be a Christian, a Muslim, a Hindu, etc. and just decide to choose one over the other as a fiat of sheer will? Could you really choose in a single instant to stop believing in the resurrection, the Virgin Birth and the Hypostatic Union? … That brings me to my real problem with what you said: you don’t want to be told what it means to be a Christian … But if no one is allowed to ever say what it means to be a Christian, why should anyone think that being a Christian means anything at all? … Good theology has always been linked with good praxis. That’s the main reason the Church started worrying over theological questions to begin with. The Church has to instruct its members in what it means to be a Christian. Lines like “one substance, three persons” and “honor your father and mother” create a space in which might be formed the sort of person who is able to have belief in God (in sense of praxis) from one moment to the next. Definitions were never meant to be ends in themselves. Affirmation of the creedal truths was never the point. That’s why most of the creeds are apophatic in nature. The point is that the affirmation of Christian creeds and adherence to the regulation of the Church allows for the formation of the sort of person one calls a Christian. In that way, the Church and the creeds and Scripture do determine what it means to be a Christian. It isn’t a term open to individual, or even generational redefinition… Sometimes I get a sickening feeling that we’re only really interested in the brand name.
David, lots of great stuff here, and yes, I did manage to “slog through” it Myself, I don’t literally wake up every morning with the personal capacity to be a Christian, Muslim or Hindu. The option? Sure. We’re at least free to practice and cognitively change our beliefs. I’m just arguing that – for example – I’m not 100% convinced that the resurrection is historical reality. I don’t expect I ever will be. But I AM a Christian. To briefly skip to the end of your comment: I don’t want or intend to be a Christian merely by “brand name,” so I deliberately and self-consciously subscribe to belief in the resurrection. If I were picking and choosing, as you seem to be critiquing, I would be buffet-style throwing out the things I don’t want. Instead, I’m saying, “if these are the fundamental dogmas of Christianity, then as a Christian, I’ll affirm them. Don’t ask me to pretend to blindly believe all of them, but I see no real value in tossing them out either. I still find PLENTY of latitude, by the way, to toss out the stuff in Christianity that isn’t dogma that I find really destructive (for example, biblical inerrancy, gender complementarianism, anti-gay rhetoric or hellfire-exclusivism).
Maybe I didn’t communicate myself well in the last post, but picking and choosing is not at all what I was trying to articulate. Instead, I want to convey a means of embracing a relatively traditional, (albeit socially-liberal, in my case) liturgical Christianity that does not reject or omit supernatural/mystical aspects of the faith in an attempt to capture cultural relevance, but instead simply acknowledges the precariousness of any faith claim, the ambiguity of any supernatural questions or answers, and the inability of religion to settle these questions. Rather, religions role should be to ask these questions with fervor, excitement, cynicism, humor, and perhaps apophatic enthusiasm (!) and invite corporate participation in the whole process. I don’t believe it’s reasonable to ask modern people to suspend disbelieve. I believe this leads to denial, and worse, forced ignorance. Instead, I think the best we can do is pray, “Lord, help my unbelief…” and “slog through.”
PDXAndrew said: Some people seem to talk about faith-belief like it’s something that we can switch on and off … My old pastor (Lutheran) would say that we don’t choose to accept Christ/God – that would put us in a position of power. For example, do I accept this job applicant, or that one… do I accept this gift, or that one… Doing so reduces God’s sovereignty (so he said). Rather, Christ comes to say “You have been saved. You are reconcilled to God. God loves you, even in lieu of sin. So sin no more. And all you really can do is believe…” Of course, belief can be interchanged with trust I suppose…
PDXAndrew, this is so true. I can’t simply say, “Okay, I believe in the literal Virgin Birth.” What I can say, instead, is: “The Virgin Birth is a vital, foundational part of Christianity’s understanding of who Jesus Christ is. It is in that context that I have come to understand who Jesus Christ is. Do I think it’s possible that Jesus was miraculously born of a virgin? Absolutely? And I think it’s a beautiful statement about who God is and how Christ’s Epiphany manifested. But I am not certain about the Virgin Birth. I can’t even tell you I think it was likely. I simply choose to believe it. I think your comment, PDXAndrew, on putting ourselves in a position of power is poignant, and I wonder what that says about my choice. I believe, however, that my “fight” for choice here is not a fight for the “virtue” of choice, but rather a fight for us all to ADMIT that WE ARE ALREADY MAKING THESE CHOICES (it just sounds impious when we say it out loud). Still, I think there’s a lot to this notion of undermining God’s sovereignty.
Benjamin Verble said: I’ve been reading about Ecclesiology for class and have been wondering if my individualism has gotten a bit out of control.
Again, I want to reiterate here that I’m not advocating for a “MY-BRAND-OF-CHRISTIANITY” Christianity. This is not just a pick-and-choose argument (although I have made that argument before, it’s been more related to social issues and interpretations, not dogma). I’m simply saying I’d like to be a little more open and honest about the stuff many of us aren’t so sure about.
I think if Christians were willing to acknowledge that we might be wrong about a few fundamental things (and that, that’s okay) that inevitably leads to more understanding, more grace, and more healing between folks of other faiths, cultures and traditions. The death of extremism begins with the death of my own extremism.
I’m not sure what your definition of “family” is, but I have a hard time imagining familial ties requiring acknowledgment or affirmation to be validated. Family is family, right? I’m not sure what particular theology Governor Bentley subscribes to (yes, yes, some brand of conservative Baptist), but parents don’t need their children to call them mommy and daddy to love them.
I don’t need my sisters and brothers to do or say anything for them to deserve my love. I want to sit at the same Thanksgiving table…
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Alabama governor touches off controversy with Christian comments By: CNN Political Unit (Update: The governor later apologized)
(CNN)– Alabama Republican Gov. Robert Bentley is kicking off his first term in office with a bit of controversy, telling a church audience Monday that he only considers Christians to be his “brothers and sisters.”
“Now I will have to say that, if we don’t have the same daddy, we’re not brothers and sisters,” he told parishioners at a Baptist church in Montgomery Monday shortly after being sworn in. “So anybody here today who has not accepted Jesus Christ as their savior, I’m telling you, you’re not my brother and you’re not my sister, and I want to be your brother.” “There may be some people here today who do not have living within them the Holy Spirit,” Bentley also said, according to the Birmingham News. “But if you have been adopted in God’s family like I have, and like you have if you’re a Christian and if you’re saved, and the Holy Spirit lives within you just like the Holy Spirit lives within me, then you know what that makes? It makes you and me brothers. And it makes you and me brother and sister.”
Rebekah Caldwell Mason, Bentley’s communications director, was not immediately available for comment but told the Birmingham News that Bentley “is the governor of all the people, Christians, non-Christians alike.”
Bentley also celebrated the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. in his speech and said he will govern in accordance with King’s teachings.
‘I was elected as a Republican candidate. But once I became governor … I became the governor of all the people. I intend to live up to that. I am color blind,” Bentley also said.
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But I must confess, again, because it bears repeating, that I have made demands of loved ones and strangers. I have required conversion before I called neighbors “brother” and “sister.” I cannot criticize Governor Bentley for his exclusivism and arrogance without first owning my own past. I have committed these sins. I am sorry for it. I can still do better. All of us can. Thanks be to God that there is grace for me and for Governor Bentley and for Sarah Palin and Jeremiah Wright.
My sisters and brothers are Muslims and Hindus and Southern Baptists and Atheists.
I’m an M.Div student at George Fox Seminary, and a contributing writer in Spencer Burke’s Out of theOOZE (NavPress), Leonard Sweet’s Church of the Perfect Storm (Abingdon Press) and Christian Piatt’s Banned Questions About Jesus (Chalice Press).
I’m a liberal, an egalitarian, a deconstructionist, an Outlaw Preacher, and a loudmouth. I want to be your friend...
Myself, I don’t literally wake up every morning with the personal capacity to be a Christian, Muslim or Hindu. The option? Sure. We’re at least free to practice and cognitively change our beliefs. I’m just arguing that – for example – I’m not 100% convinced that the resurrection is historical reality. I don’t expect I ever will be. But I AM a Christian. To briefly skip to the end of your comment: I don’t want or intend to be a Christian merely by “brand name,” so I deliberately and self-consciously subscribe to belief in the resurrection. If I were picking and choosing, as you seem to be critiquing, I would be buffet-style throwing out the things I don’t want. Instead, I’m saying, “if these are the fundamental dogmas of Christianity, then as a Christian, I’ll affirm them. Don’t ask me to pretend to blindly believe all of them, but I see no real value in tossing them out either. I still find PLENTY of latitude, by the way, to toss out the stuff in Christianity that isn’t dogma that I find really destructive (for example, biblical inerrancy, gender complementarianism, anti-gay rhetoric or hellfire-exclusivism). 
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