With Apologies

Recently I have read some blogs by people who, by all accounts I can see, are God-centered people. What they have been writing about is why they, or others, have left the church. (Here are a couple by Christian Piatt: Seven Reasons Why Young Adults Quit Church and Four More BIG Reasons Young Adults Quit Church and one by Rachel Held Evans: 15 Reasons I Left the Church.)

My first response to these articles is, “Yeah. Me too.” These are the reasons I want to leave the church. But I can’t seem to do it for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that, as a pastor, my family and I depend on the paycheck that I collect for being a part of the church.  I truly believe that the Holy Spirit it at work outside of the institutional church and I want to be at work where the Holy Spirit is but I’m genuinely having trouble making the transition.

My second response is that I want to apologize. I want to apologize on behalf of the Church. But I can't. I can only apologize for the way that I have represented the Church as a leader and for the way that I have participated in the very things that have driven people away. I apologize for:

Another Look at Cell Phones in Church

This morning I received an email from a friend and fellow pastor with a link to a YouTube video about cellphones in church. It's cute and is meant to be a humorous look at the way electronics can be a distraction in worship. Then I saw another pastor post the same video on Facebook.

So here's what bothers me about this video:

First of all I completely understand the frustration of having sermons, prayers and worship interrupted by ring tones and other electronic alarms. It's disrespectful. There really is no other way to put it. It is disrespectful to the preacher as well as to other worshipers. It draws our attention away from what we are doing in worship. It pulls us out of the moment even if we don't answer the call and even if it isn't meant for us.But so does a crying baby or a someone with a cough.

Right now our culture is trying to decide whether or not constant interruptions in our daily life are worth the ability to stay connected to our network of family and friends. The cultural jury is still out on this one. I personally think that there are times when we should turn off the gadgets but I grew up in a different time, before digital communication. I'm not native to this culture but I'm trying to adapt.

Part of adapting means learning how phones are becoming an extension of who we are as people. We use them as additions to our memory storage abilities. We use them to expand our knowledge base. I have at least two members of my congregation who have talked to me about how they use their smart phones in worship to remind themselves to reflect later on something said in a sermon or to look up a reference on the spot. Using their phones actually deepens the worship experience for them. And what would it be like to have people in the congregation Tweet or post to Facebook statements and ideas they received in worship?

The trade-off is that whenever we are connected to the outside world the outside world is connected to us. And that's not always a bad thing. Too often worship is understood as this "other-worldly" activity where we try to isolate ourselves away from the distractions of the world in order to focus on God. The problem with this is that God is actually trying to get us to focus on the world. Isn't that why we believe that Jesus is the embodied form of God? Isn't that why we use earthly elements (water, wine, bread) for the sacraments? Isn't that why we preach a Gospel that frees us from the power of sin and death so that we are freed to serve this distraction-filled world in the name of Jesus?

If we, as the leaders of the church, don't start to get over ourselves and meet people where they are then the important and relevant message of our faith will get lost in a cultural language that is being spoken by fewer and fewer people. The very fact that we meet them where they are is an experience of grace. Insisting that people conform to a particular pattern of behaviors (laws?) to be welcomed into the worshiping community is exactly the opposite.

Grieving an American Tragedy

Her life played out like an ancient Greek tragedy: Humble beginnings; a God-given gift; a rise to greatness, a decline and fall; a too-soon death.

I didn't watch the Grammy tribute to Whitney Houston last night but I saw the 20 minute recap on the national news shows this morning. I was impressed by the prayer led by LL Cool J giving thanks for having been touched by her life and gift as well as naming the grief and shock of the day. The singers and musicians who paid tribute to her art did so beautifully and with heartfelt emotion.

It's no surprise that her death has caused sadness and grieving among her fans and her musical colleagues. Such grief searches for public expression. But I am conflicted by the ways in which the media is evolving as a leader in public grief. They have begun to serve as priest for the public masses, framing the story of a life with select and edited stories. News and talks shows (which are becoming the exact same things) serve as the host of a wake where loved ones and friends of the deceased share stories and memories and try to make sense of a life and a death.

In many ways this is necessary for such a public figure as Whitney Houston. Even though her death causes grief among the people of my congregation, we will not hold a vigil or even a special service because she was not a member of our faith community. So it is necessary for the someone or something to serve as the priest that  puts her life and death into context. There will be clips of concerts and movies and television interviews. There will be sound bites from colleagues, friends and fans. We might even hear someone talk about the tragedy of her personal choices to use drugs to numb the pain that she felt.

But what we won't hear is a critique of the system that raised her up to great heights and then stood by as the fame and pressure of being a star overwhelmed her. We won't hear about music and film industries that paid her lots of attention and money but profited even more for itself. And while the Grammy Award show paid loving tribute and the morning news/talk shows reflect admiringly on Whitney's career, none of them will talk about how they profit from these public displays of grief. We won't hear this from the media because they are part of the system that both made and watched idly by as this tragedy unfolded.

Perhaps my biggest concern, though, is that the media doesn't understand that it is taking over this very public role. So when the clips and segments are assembled they aren't done with an eye towards helping a grieving group of people they are done with an eye towards increased ratings and being the first to report it. Grief takes time and being patient is the last thing that media can afford to be. For the most part, this is an old story already. It will be mentioned again when her funeral is reported on and when the coroner releases the cause of her death. Tomorrow we will see the media move on to other stories.

The real tragedy here is that we don't have public grieving rituals for people (or events) who occupy a national or global presence. As we become more globally connected to people we will never meet in person we need to find ways to express our grief at their loss that are better than a 20 minute recap on the news the day after their death. If we can't find ways to grieve the pain of these losses it will only cause more pain in the long run.

Candy Taxes & Tithes

When my children were younger and spent Halloween racing from house to house toting a pillow case they would come home with as much as six pounds of candy. It would all be dumped in a pile on the living room floor; one pile for my son and one for my daughter. They would stare at the loot for a moment, taking it all in like Daffy Duck staring at a room full of gold coins. And then they would start sorting through the pile, looking for their favorites and deciding which three or four pieces (their allotted amount for Halloween night) they would devour before cleaning up and heading off to bed with sugar-fueled dreams.

That's when Amy or I would remind them of the Candy Tax, the price that was paid to the heads-of-household in thanksgiving for letting them live under our roof, eat our food and participate in the annual costume-and-candy-grab festival of Halloween. This wasn't mean. This was a life lesson. "Soon you will be paying real taxes to the government," we told them. And the Bible tells us to tithe our earnings and give 10% to God. We didn't want the poor darlings to think that they could keep 100% of what they had received. Someone is always going to lay claim to part of what you think is yours. We simply wanted to be good parents and teach them about life.

(Disclaimer: Honestly this practice had way more to do with the fact that free candy tastes better than purchased candy. And when I started sporting a beard and passed the 200 lbs. mark, dressing up and asking neighbors for candy (even though they were already handing it out for free) seemed a bit creepy. The whole "teach my kids a lesson" gambit didn't fool anyone. They knew what was up.)

My kids learned to keep us away from their piles so we couldn't get a look at what they had acquired. They would come to us with offerings of candy in hopes of appeasing our stringent demands. But a third-grade sized hand carrying two waxy chocolate balls wrapped in foil that looks like an eye ball, a cellophane packet of off-brand Sweet-Tarts with candy coating and three snot-green Jolly Ranchers doesn't cut it. I saw the people down the street drop two Reese's Peanut Butter Cups in your bag! I can see that Heath Bar on top of your pile from here! And no, I don't want a Dum Dum sucker of any flavor. They remind me of getting shots at the doctor's office.

Six weeks later we would find remnants of the Halloween stash buried in their closets. We would ask if they wanted anymore of the candy. They would tell us no. I would take it and hand it out as game prizes in Confirmation Class.

I'm afraid this Halloween ritual of ours reveals an awful lot about human behavior. It shines a light on our greed and our fear of having things taken away from us as well as how fast we become bored by things that once held an immense appeal to us.

I'm also afraid that my behavior reflects the reality of some of the greater institutions in our culture; the government, corporations and the church. Each of these entities feels entitled to a portion of what we have received. Each one justifies its entitlement by providing something in exchange for our taxes, patronage or tithes. If that was the whole truth of the matter I would have no problem with it. But reckless government spending, outrageous corporate profits (if you are making billions in profits, perhaps you could help the world economy by lowering your prices) and church foundations and endowments reveal a greater concern for the institutions than the people they serve.

The government needs taxes to serve the needs of the republic. Corporations need profits to be able to supply people with goods and services. Churches need tithes to do the work of the church. But when these institutions lose sight of who they are serving and the fact that they exist to serve they simply scare away those who can help them the most.

I wish I had been more thankful and encouraged my children's generosity when it arose naturally. Despite my blunders they are pretty generous people. I plan on paying back all those candy taxes and tithes with interest. But, like my parents, I'm not going to give it to my kids. I'm going to give it my grandchildren.

Revoking My Man Card

We bought a new vehicle yesterday. A pick-up. The first brand-new pick-up and only our second brand-new vehicle in 25 years of marriage. It doesn't have all the bells and whistles but it's got a lot of them. And it fits in the garage with two whole inches to spare!

We did some shopping and test driving last week. A young woman who had recently graduated from college and had been hired as a sales consultant answered questions and told us about the features. She did a great job. The bonus was that she hadn't learned any of the high-pressure sales crap and was genuinely embarrassed when her sales manager insisted that she inquire what it would take to sell us one that day.

My family genetics won't allow me to make that kind of purchase decision. I won't even buy underwear without thinking about it for a few days. So we found a price that we were both okay with, asked if they could get it in a different color than the arrest-me red they had in stock and left. After sleeping on it and with a few more conversations we decided to get it. We called, put down a deposit, and were told it would be available on Monday.

Monday evening we arrived at the dealership and another sales consultant who we had worked with in the past joined the sales consultant we had been working with most recently. Before we signed any papers or handed over a check we were given an opportunity to look over the vehicle we were buying. I walked around the truck, looking for dents or scratches. We climbed inside and turned knobs and clicked switches. Then the sales guy asked, Do you want to see under the hood?"

Without hesitation I replied, "Nope."

As the sales guy went on talking about features I had this creepy sensation that some disembodied spirit was reaching into my wallet and revoking my Man Card. Had I really just declined the opportunity to look under the hood? In that refusal to stand and look at an engine where the only things I could identify were the battery and the windshield wiper fluid reservoir, did I really just admit in front of my wife and the sales guy that I have no clue  about the really important part of the vehicle?

I used to be able to do a basic tune-up on a car. I learned on a station wagon in which I could actually sit in the engine compartment while I worked. But the days of looking at an engine, giving a listen and being able to spot problems passed long ago. Nowadays mechanics connect a computer to the engine to see what is wrong. Somewhere deep inside I understood that standing in front of an open hood and staring at a jumble of wires and covered mechanical processes would just be a waste of time.

So take my Man Card if you have to. I'll be too busy streaming wireless music from my phone and talking on the hands-free entertainment system to care.

Social Media Communities

I've been thinking a lot lately about the way we use social media like Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and others. These sites are evolving into new ways of being in community with other people. And for all of the negative press they get there are a lot of positive aspects beginning to emerge.

The other day a friend told me that he has stopped using Facebook because it is a black hole where time disappears. Many of us have had that experience where we log on and bury our heads in our computer screens only to find that an hour or more has slipped by when it felt like 10 minutes. We look up and see that we are alone in room or office and there is that sense that we have been duped. A lonely feeling overwhelms us when just a moment before we felt so connected.

A new study by the Pew Internet and American Life Project as reported by Mashable indicates that we are using Social Media platforms to strengthen our ties to one another away from our computers and mobile devices. The report claims that "Facebook users tend to get more emotional support, companionship as well as instrumental aid (meaning they’re more likely to get help when sick, etc)."


There is no doubt that online communities can cause problems or be places where people are endangered but we can say that about every community, online or otherwise. These new online communities will be what we make of them and it appears that we would like them to be for good.


What is your experience with social media sites? Do you give and receive instrumental aid? Do you give or receive support from people you know? Have you had a primarily positive or negative experience?

On Freedom

I woke today to the news that Osama Bib Laden was killed in a covert military operation over the weekend in Pakistan. This was the only story on the morning talk shows. My Facebook feed is filled with expressions of relief at his death and pride in the ability of the United States to accomplish the mission and bring him to justice.

It is big news to be sure. The events of September 11, 2001 wounded the heart of my country and, as much as we don't like to admit it, brought fear to the surface of our lives. My heart grieved with those who lost loved ones in the attacks and I led prayers for God to be with them and bring them comfort. I quietly cheered when we, as a nation, struck out to eradicate terrorism and vowed to make the world a safe and free place.

Almost ten years later I do not find myself cheering the news of Bin Laden's death.  As a Christian I try to imagine how Jesus would greet this news. I struggle to think of the man who commands us to forgive our enemies and teaches us to turn the other cheek pumping his fist into the air with a flash mob and chanting, "USA! USA!"

Revenge can feel like justice. I've understood that since I was a small child. But revenge does not equal justice. The Gospels are clear about that point. In fact, that is exactly the point of the Gospels. God's justice is found in forgiveness. That near-incomprehensible concept is lived out in the Easter story. If revenge were the same as justice God would have needed to get even with those who betrayed, denied, abandoned and killed Jesus. Instead, Jesus is raised from the dead and his life and ministry continue.

I understand that there is a cost to be paid for freedom. To the men and women who have worked so hard and have given their lives for my political freedom I say thank you and congratulations.

To those who call themselves Christian, a gentle reminder: It is not Bin Laden's death that sets us free. It is neither revenge nor will it be the eradication of every person who wishes to harm us that finally guarantees our freedom. It is God's love in Christ that sets us free. We find true freedom in forgiveness not revenge.

I want my country to be free.