Heated Discussions

Do Young Adults Consider MLK a Bible-Quoting Moron?

When I became a young adult, I turned my back on churches.  It's a familiar story.  Growing up in a church, I heard a lot of offensive things uttered by religious folks; racist remarks (subtle and not so subtle), judgmental exclusivism, anti-semitism, a paranoid fear of scientific knowledge, and a general apathy toward the physical well-being of those outside the church.  Is it any wonder church became irrelevant to me?

Well, obviously, I found my way back in the church, although somewhat reluctantly.  Through a long spiritual journey and countless hours of reading I discovered that the Christian tradition contained a diversity of thought.  The Christianity in which I was raised was not the only game in town.  I discovered I could follow Jesus in a intellectually rational (although often mysterious) loving way that called me to engage in the world's suffering, not retreat form it.  The wider world of biblical scholarship and contemporary theology seemed more grounded in reality as I experienced it.  It simultaneously deconstructed and reconstructed my faith.

Cut to a decade later, when Pam and I planted our church.  I was determined that no child growing up in Vision would have to endure the misguided ideas about God and the Bible I often heard.  I was going to make sure no teenager ever got the idea that we Christians were scientifically ignorant, or homophobic, or condemned people of other religions.  We wanted to expose them to a faith that was beyond the stereotype of the fire and brimstone church.  Being raised in the richness and deepness of this kind of faith would give them the tools and freedom of thought to move beyond a simple rejection of faith when they hit college age.  

Or so we thought.

I am starting to think I was naive.  Recently, a kid whose family drifted away from our church told one of our kids, "Why should I be a part of a brainwashed group that thinks everyone else is going to Hell?"  If you know me or our church, you realize how far that description is from who we actually are.  I have never in my life preached anything remotely like what this kid said.  In fact, I have preached quite the opposite.  How did this kid get the idea that that is what our church is about?  

Occasionally, I read Facebook updates by young adults who, at one time or another, were part of our faith community.  Often, they parrot Bill Maher-like criticisms that all churches are full of bigoted hypocrites and homophobes, even though I know for a fact they never experienced that in our church.  

Are young people somehow predisposed to reject all religion as narrow-minded superstitious bigotry?  Is fundamentalism just too powerful a force for more progressive religious  people to counter in the minds of young adults?  Do they consider Martin Luther King a Bible-quoting moron?

Your thoughts?

 

Do Our Communities Really Need Churches Anymore?

My house looks like a fundraising headquarters.  Everywhere I look is letter from my kid's school, their sports team, or choir notifying us of some fundraising event.  Unlike years past, the funds sought are not just for the school, team or choir, but often for humanitarian organizations.  Our local food pantry is the old standby.  Almost every group in town raises money or collects food for them.  Although the pantry is a joint ministry of all the churches in town, the fundraisers' letters seldom mention that fact.  My local free  shopper newspaper is a crowded collection of press releases about which Boy Scout troop raised money for which charity, and pictures of student  or civic organizations handing over checks to some 501(c)(3).   Although there are many articles about church missions mixed in, it seems like they are no different than any other well-meaning group.

Don't get me wrong.  It's all great stuff. However, it strikes me that all these types of efforts used to be what we in the church called missions.  I hang out in a lot of church circles that are big on being part of their communities - call it "missional" or "incarnational" or whatever.  It's a hot topic.  For many churches, they think it's the magic formula to reverse their decline.  Yet lately, I wonder if our churches are making any difference.

My question is this; with all the Bono-fied humanitarian efforts originating everywhere from kid's classrooms to the local supermarket, do our communities even need churches to do this work anymore?  Especially for more mainline churches who have moved past all the saving-people-from-Hell talk, what purpose do we serve anymore?  I have my own ideas, but I would like to hear yours.

 

Easter: Restoring a Classic

What’s so great about Easter?  Think about it, every year we gather and celebrate Easter.  It’s a happy and joyous event, but if we’re honest, we’re probably more happy about the fact that Spring has arrived and the weather is getting warmer (well, at least in theory).  Few of us stop to think about what’s so great about Easter.  Sure, for Jesus it was a great Sunday after a really bad weekend, but for you and me – what?  What does Jesus’ resurrection do for you and me?

For the answer we need to look to that great repository of human wisdom which is, of course, – reality television.  Reality TV is more than just trainwrecking celebrities and cut-throat competition.  There are also how-it’s-built shows, redecorating and remodeling shows, and my favorite –restoration shows.  I love shows like Pawn Stars, where someone brings an old pinball machine into Rick, Corey, the Old Man and Chumley and it’s in terrible condition.  Then they bring it to an expert who meticulously cleans it, rewires it, finds new parts for it and restores it.  What begins as a piece of junk bought for a couple of hundred dollars, end up a collectable that is sold for thousands.

My favorite form of reality TV is car restoration shows, where classic cars are found, restored and sold at auction for incredible prices.  A couple of months ago, I actually got to shoot a video project at one of those auctions in Amelia Island, Florida. We interviewed many of the cars’ owners and they told us stories of how they found their prize possession, often rusting away in a barn somewhere, neglected and falling apart. 

There was one particular owner, an elderly man named Buddy.  Buddy looked exactly like you think a wealthy old car collector named Buddy would look.  Grey hair and moustache, plaid jacket, a beret and a walking stick that I’m pretty sure had a secret flask in its handle.  He owned a particularly rare car, a gull-wing Mercedes from the 1950’s.  He told me how when he found it, it was rotting away in an old barn, almost unrecognizable.  Yet his expert eye was able to see it was truly a valuable car.  Given the car’s deplorable condition, most people would have written it off as unrestorable.  But Buddy looked at it and saw potential.