And Who Am I? (…)

Over the last several months, my wife has settled into her role as interim associate pastor at our church, and I’ve discovered something very quickly: beyond the fact that she’s a brilliant, articulate classroom lecturer at seminary, she also happens to be a dynamic, passionate, and gifted preacher.

I guess it’s ironic, as I remember her words to me just before we got married: “Peter, I’m not going to be a pastor’s wife.”  Ha!  How the tables turn…

Jen wasn’t saying she wouldn’t support me in ministry if that’s how I felt led, or that I couldn’t be a pastor – after all, for those of you who remember, we rescheduled our wedding day so I could take my first class at George Fox Seminary, guest lectured by Brian D. McLaren.  That’s not exactly a lack of support  (it was years later that she enrolled in seminary, herself).  Rather, she wasn’t interested in playing the traditional, highly-gendered “role” of pastor’s wife… I guess that must mean wearing an apron, baking cookies, smiling politely and looking pious-and-pretty while standing behind her husband.  And I’m glad she didn’t want that role.  I confess, there was a time in my life — 10+ years ago, to be sure — where I probably was looking for something like that.  I feel ashamed of it now.

So as I sit in the pew with my wife at the pulpit, wearing her white vestments, I feel a deep sense of pride and awe at her natural abilities.  But I confess, narcissist that I am, to struggling a bit with what it means for my own identity.  I’m used to being the center of attention, damn it! I’m scheduled to guest-preach in a month or so — my first time at this church.  At prior churches we’ve attended, I was always the go-to for guest-preaching, and now I imagine what Jen must have felt like, not being asked, and having the natural gifts that she does.  I took a lot for granted.  I suppose I took her for granted.

When Jen first began attending George Fox, it was three years after I started there, so she was “Peter’s wife” for awhile, but as a full time student, she quickly developed relationships and a sense of community I could not with my half-time, evenings-only status.  For the last three years, I have learned what it means to be “Jen’s husband,” and it’s been both humbling and (I think) truly healthy for me.  In the same way, I’m learning to swallow my sometimes massive pride and help out with children’s ministry at church, teaching Sunday School or selling bags of coffee beans before the service.  It isn’t glamorous, but these may be exactly the lessons I’ve needed for a very long time.

If I can accommodate NOT being the center of attention, and truly integrate some kind of servanthood or humility or loving support into my psyche, this “metamorphosis” will be the best thing that could happen to me.  Because sooner or later, every “small town celebrity” ends up wondering why they didn’t “make it big.”

I’ve told you before: I once wanted to be a famous actor.  I got a gig in a Lifetime Original Movie in college.  Did I tell you that?  Then I wanted to be a famous writer.  I made friends with Leonard Sweet.  Did I tell you that?

But I still work a full time job, and I still live in small-town Oregon, and I like this life.  There’s something stepping out of the “limelight” (or off of the pulpit) has to teach me, and I think it’s very good.  And in those rare occasions when I do step back up to offer a guest-sermon, or get an article published, I pray I don’t find my identity there.

The Enneagram Tells Me: Be Careful Reforming…

I just finished a seminary Spiritual Formation class exploring the Enneagram: another model of personality assessment, not unlike the Myers Briggs personality test, but much older (the Wikipedia link mentions the 1950s, but my class traced a history back to ancient Sufis, Christians, and other sources that culminated into the contemporary model.

What sets the Enneagram apart from Myers Briggs is its emphasis on process – personal growth.  Whereas Myers Briggs assessments are static (I’ll be an ENFP forever, more or less) Enneagram assessments are meant to be a starting point: we should grow beyond them, stretching, wrestling, doing the internal emotional and spiritual work necessary.  After the initial tests to determine my “type,” I found I was a 7: The Enthusiast. My basic fear is boredom.  Basic desire: the experience of life.  Vice: gluttony.  When I am stressed, my personality type naturally descends into the worst behavior of a different personality type (everyone does) and in my case, it’s a type 1: The Reformer. Isn’t that interesting?  It’s only when I’m at my worst, stressed, angry, and emotionally compromised, that I tend to function as a reformer.

As I’ve been blogging about over the last few months, when my own words begin to unravel into reformational tirades, it’s probably wise for me to suspect my motives (often subconscious).  As often as I make attempts to reform, I am not – by nature – a reformer.  I’m an enthusiast.  My “type” looks to the future with anticipation, innovation, excitement,  and optimism.  That’s where I’m at my healthiest.

So then, what’s next?!

A Clarification (and Reflection) on my Fundamentalist History

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…

Those Who Wish to Change the World According to Their Desire… (oops)

When I was growing up I led all the neighborhood kids through some version of the Sinner’s Prayer – probably on a weekly basis. I remember hanging on the swing set, “Now repeat after me: ‘Dear Jesus, please come into my heart…’”

They were awfully gracious, and continued to play with me.

It wasn’t that I was so scared of hell, or even that I was judging them. I don’t think I would have known to judge, that early in my life. I simply knew what was “correct,” and I needed to make sure they were all in the clear. In the same way, I needed to make sure I was in the clear too, and repeated my own commitments to Christ on a weekly – sometimes daily – basis, not wanting to leave any loose ends.

But even if my evangelistic efforts were well-intentioned, there was hatred in me. Somehow, I remember hating “the Devil” – whoever that was – whoever I visualized that being. As a five or six year old (I can place my age because of where we lived) I would lock myself in the bathroom and yell curses through the tiled floor (because hell is underground) condemning the Devil for being dumb and stupid and bad. I locked the door because I didn’t want to get in trouble for saying words I wasn’t supposed to – even toward the Prince of Darkness.

Several years ago when I watched Joseph Fiennes in the movie Luther, I almost laughed out loud at the very serious

portrayal of Martin Luther’s maddened, frenzied cursing as he wrestled with Satan in his abbey cell.

“Hell, I did that in the bathroom when I was a kid! But I never said shit, Martin. I had boundaries.”

In high school I picked all sorts of ideological fights in class. I did a presentation on abortion with huge, graphic pictures. My poor teacher was horrified (probably scared for his job). And of course, I felt morally justified, because I was entrenched in a culture war…

We don’t change much, do we? Even when we do. Lots of my friends laugh that I’ve changed more than anyone else they know. And while I’ve changed ideologically, I’m not sure I’ve changed all that much. There’s still a pissy fundamentalist in me, morally outraged at this or that: liberal now; conservative then. ‘A’ or ‘B’.

The Tao Te Ching reads:

Those who wish to change the world
According with their desire
cannot succeed.

The world is shaped by the Way;
It cannot be shaped by the self.
Trying to change it, you damage it;
Trying to possess it, you lose it.

So somewill lead, while others follow.
Some will be warm, others cold
Some will be strong, others weak.
Some will get where they are going
While others fall by the side of the road.

So the sage will be neither extravagant nor violent.

I’m not running with my tail between with my legs, here.  I just think it’s worthwhile to tell you about my process, rather than pretend I have my shit together.  Oops, there I go, Martin Luther…

"Higher Education is a Faith-Killer"

A pastor told me that, six years ago.  It was after I had graduated college, but a warning as I explored seminary.  I  remembered my father telling me sometime in the midst of adolescence how many Christians who pursued seminary education often wound up losing their faith.  ”Very sad,” I thought, and so did he.

But losing one’s faith and losing one’s certainty are not the same thing.  That’s what I’ve been writing about so much, for so long.  I don’t believe that faith has an opportunity for air – it cannot even manifest – until certainty is finally put to rest.

I am uncertain.

Ah, here is something that looks like faith…

“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)
 

RE: CHOOSING Belief… Responses from Friends

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.  

The Thing I’m Thankful For: Messy, Broken Relationships!

Family relationships are complicated, messy, and often painful. While I consider myself pretty well-adjusted, no household is without it’s pain and drama/trauma. Probably because of my personality more than my actual environment, I have spent a lot of my young adulthood wrestling through wounds, hurt feelings, and what was probably an excessive amount of bitterness. Bits and pieces of that carried through to recent years – I suppose no one ever really “gets over” big injuries caused by loved ones. But I’m hardly blameless – I know I’ve hurt them too…

Yesterday we spent Thanksgiving with my parents for the first time in a couple of years. Just a year ago, we spent a lot of time deliberately processing through a lot of emotional shit. Painful, face-to-face, venting, explaining, apologizing, reconciling, sharing responsibility… and finally, commitment: not to let our relationships disintegrate to that point, again. We said out loud (something to the effect of…) “I know we’re going to hurt each other again, and some of us are going to get offended, and we’re going to misspeak and misunderstand and disappoint each other…” (all of this, in fragments spoken by different people) “but we are going to remind ourselves, and each other, to believe in the better intentions of each of us. We’re going to fight the urge to presume the worst. We’re going to choose to love each other for who we are, not for the way we wish they were.” And there were lots of tears, and after a few weeks of that, we drove to the Portland Grotto to look at the Christmas lights (www.thegrotto.org/christmas), and we all felt lighter and closer than we had in a long time.

The Grotto Lights

The year following hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been better. We haven’t spent as much time together as I hoped, but it was more than previously. It was better.

These feelings don’t undercut my ideological struggle with the history and meaning of Thanksgiving.  Some of my friends have been frustrated with observations I made here and on Facebook.  I get that.  It’s easy to be an armchair ref (or judge) in the blogosphere.  But I’m not speaking from some dualistic vantage in this area, ignoring one perspective on the holiday – and on this country – while I feed the other perspective. Life is complicated, just like family. We love and mourn at the same time. Morality is complicated too. We do our best, day-to-day, while people suffer, and we hope to make the world better in our spheres of influence, but we prioritize the people in front of us, and there’s always more we could have done. It’s a cruel reality, but somehow, life can be lovely.  Maybe that’s where dualism is unavoidable.

The Truth Is: I probably won’t change my views on truth…

A visitor recently e-mailed me about my blog and my beliefs. He was respectful, articulate, and had a very different worldview from my own. One of our clearest dissimilarities had to do with truth. He viewed it as something to be “reached.” An “end,” if you will.

And from a personal standpoint, I don’t even have much to argue with. I’ve affirmed my own belief in Jesus Christ as embodied truth, before. I think I’d be more comfortable saying that Scripture is truthful, because I don’t have faith that it is inherently “correct.” There is truth in Scripture, as there is also context, opinion, poetry, emotion, love, hate, atrocity, misunderstanding, redaction, deception, and a great story at the end about robots and computers and bar codes and atomic war and a UN Chairman who can bend time… Just kidding about that last part, none of that is in Revelation.

There was a point, several years ago, when I would spend a lot of time arguing my “case” over e-mail. Some of it made for pretty fruitful posts (in my opinion) but that’s all already on the blog. At this point, I don’t feel a strong need to defend myself, although I certainly spend lots of time advocating for ideas. And most of these posts are nothing more than my own working out and wrestling. Sometimes I get e-mails from folks who genuinely think it’s just a matter of me NOT KNOWING the CORRECT doctrine or interpretation. Their thinking seems to be: “if he can simply be made AWARE of his erroneous theological conclusions, he will then right his spiritual and theological course (and save his soul).” I’m not a scholar or a theologian. I’m not really academically-minded. I’m a lowly M.Div student and a lifelong Evangelical. I don’t presume to carry much depth of knowledge in any particular theological subset. But having been in the church for 31 years, and attended seminary for the last five years, I’m not wholly ignorant either, and it’s been several years since I’ve been “surprised” by a theological concept I was previously unaware of. You’re certainly welcome to prove me wrong and I don’t feel arrogant or proud saying any of that.

The reason I advocate for ongoing deconstruction, even as I attempt to construct something new and workable for myself, is that I don’t trust my own constructs any more than I trust your constructs or Paul’s or Irenaeus’. Kierkegaard wrote, “Concepts, like individuals, have their histories and are just as incapable of withstanding the ravages of time as are individuals.” The truth changes as we change and the world changes. As I said recently, whatever we can articulate as “the thing” stops being “the thing” at that moment. As the Tao Te Ching eloquently puts it, “The Way that can be experienced is not true; the world that can be constructed is not real.” I think we have a tendency, as soon as something becomes true for us, or real for us, to grab it and hold it fast – preventing it from changing, growing, or living! Static things are not alive, and I believe truth must be a living thing. That’s why Scripture, doctrine and theological systems (however helpful they may be) can be unhelpful when they place restraints or limitations on God.

Thanks for Continuing to Read at EmergingChristian.com!

I’ve been writing here since late 2004.  Back then, I was unmarried, not enrolled in seminary, and I had JUST changed party affiliation on my voter registration.

I wrote pretty sporadically back then – only a few posts each month.  Everything was so ambiguous to me at that time that I felt I was stumbling through the dark.  Or whistling (except that I can’t whistle).  I still remember laying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if my questions would end in apostasy or atheism.  I cried about that, scared to lose the thing that was so precious to me – faith – but also just as scared to lose the semblance of comfort and belonging I still felt so strongly in the Evangelical world.  There was a part of me fighting to ignore the doubts and questions and disillusion, if only to retain that comfort.

Eventually, I lost that comfort, but I never lost my faith.

It wasn’t until 2008 that I got really serious about blogging here.  I had a painful experience with a would-be mentor that woke me up to cold reality, but up till then I thought getting a book deal was going to be relatively easy.  Naive, to be sure, but until then momentum had been going in my favor.  That “momentum” ended almost as quickly as it had begun, and I was left with a bad taste in my mouth.  I was bored and tired of my manuscript, but I didn’t want to give up on writing…

For the last couple of weeks, EmergingChristian.com has maintained an average daily visitor count that I’m quite excited about – it’s taken several years, but I have loved the conversations and friendships I have found along the way.

A lot of people tell me, “I read your blog, but I never have anything to add to the conversation, so I don’t comment.”  That’s fine, but I always encourage them (and YOU) that conversations are what this blog is about.  Conversations are what started my own spiritual evolution (or devolution, depending on your vantage) and there’s a layer of richness and depth that’s added here when YOU speak up.

Either way, the fact that you visit here – that you read my sometimes nonsensical rants – means a lot to me, and your participation in these conversations deeply affects my own faith journey.  Thank you.

Humbly,
Peter

"Lord, Show Us Where and How We Are the Oppressors. Amen."

An online friend of mine recently went on a spiritual pilgrimage, and journaled during his time away.  He shared one of his written prayers with me, from during a church service he endured.  I so deeply appreciate his openness to self-exploration and his desire for the church (the established, Western church in particular) to become more self-aware:

"Father, please help us not to stop at praying for the Christians who are persecuted! Please open our eyes and show us where we ourselves take part in oppressing structures. Please help us to see the world through your eyes and show us the people we should be in solidarity with in our own country. Help us to love Muslims, the marginalized, those who fell through our social structures and all the other people without a voice, with your perfect love that knows no boundaries. Please forgive us, that we traded your Kingdom for our own comfort. Please help us understand the reason that we are not persecuted."