An Old Emergence

It's been over a year and a half since I've posted here. That's mostly because I've been on a spiritual journey of a different sort and could never find the right words to make a blog post worthy of a space that has billed itself in the past as being "at the intersection of religion and social change." The religious climate in my country has been dark in the last year as the evangelical right has taken the last steps toward idolatry and blasphemy in its support of the radical right wing of the political spectrum. In many ways, it has finally drawn a line in the sand that allows us to demarcate the separation between those who follow Christ and those who follow their own self-interest. We can finally point to the things like The Nashville Statement and the false prophet Franklin Graham  and say, "This is not Christianity of Jesus but the work of idolators and charlatans." Yet even though this clear separation makes it easier to point out the...

Some days I cannot imagine living in this world where injustice abounds. Some days I think this faith I’ve so desperately grasped through the ups and downs of my adolescence and young adulthood is nothing but a boondoggle. I look around me and wonder why I still call myself a Christian when that term has come to mean something it never should have been to so many. I am embarrassed to say I label myself with the same moniker as Ridgedale Church of Christ in Tennessee or Charles Worley or Pat Robertson. I get strange looks from many in my larger circle of friends and acquaintances when I back out of brunch or dinner because I have commitments at my Baptist church. That is what makes days like today so special.

This reflection was first given on Sunday, April 28, 2013, at the ordination service for Reverend Jessica Tidwell at Smoke Rise Baptist Church in Stone Mountain, GA. It was commissioned by Rev. Tidwell to represent her own call to participate in and walk in solidarity with intentional Christian communities of equality and grace. ***   “Ubuntu is very difficult to render into a western language. It speaks of the very essence of being human. When we want to give high praise to someone we say, ‘Yu, u nobuntu’; ‘Hey so-and-so has ubuntu.’ then you are generous, you are hospitable, you are friendly and caring and compassionate. You share what you have. It is to say, ‘my humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours.’ we belong in a bundle of life. We say, “A person is a person through other persons.’” The word “community” has become the ultimate church buzzword for my generation. Where once the “Sunday school” answer was Jesus or God, community has emerg...

Lately I’ve been in that place again where I don’t think my faith can take another hit. I have not stopped believing in a Jesus who loves me. I have not stopped believing in a God that does in fact care about me, despite what my often cold, philosophical mind might try to have me believe. But every so often I get to a place where I just don’t think I can stand to call myself a Christian anymore. When the message that my friends hear all around them is one of intolerance and hatred, I have trouble associating myself with a belief system that has been polluted by venomous rhetoric. But every time something brings me back. This time, I was more aware of my struggle than normal. I knew what I was feeling, and I understood what caused it. And, in an effort to claw my way out my valley, I attempted to force my own reconciliation. I sent a cry of help to my pastors who responded with kindness and understanding. I wanted them to make me feel better. They did everything right, but it didn...

I have been dealing with a broken heart this evening. As I continue to encounter more and more hateful speech spewing from pulpits around the country, I've been left wondering where the voices in opposition are. I know many pastors and faith leaders who disagree with the teachings of Ron Baity, Charles Worley, Sean Harris, and many others. But where are their voices? Why can't I find them anywhere in the news. I understand how we sensationalize the macabre, but the LGBT community needs to hear the voices of those who affirm them from pulpits as well.

When I first listened to the remarks from Pastor Sean Harris of Berean Baptist Church in Fayetteville, NC, I was appalled. I have had the blessing of walking alongside several pastors over the last few years who have helped me forget that bigotry and hatred does often still flow from Baptist pulpits around the country. I listened to him recommend to fathers that “the second you see your son dropping the limp wrist you go over and you crack that wrist. Man up. Give him a good punch.” This quote (which exists only in the audio version of the sermon and not the transcript) along with the rest of his sermon (a 17-page transcript) left me furious.

It is fairly disheartening to have a vision but no means to achieve it. Barriers seem to multiply the closer you get to true revelation, but none is so discouraging as age. It seems like everywhere I turn lately I am confronted with the fact that my young age keeps people from taking what I have to say seriously.

Over the last three weeks I have had the opportunity to spend some time with the youth group at my new church, Baptist Church of the Covenant. We have been participating in what is a yearly event at BCOC called “School for Christian Living” during which time the church restructures its normal Sunday school hour into a three-hour seminar. This time is broken into two sessions with a lunch break in between.

Breathe deep. Relax. Bask in this moment. This is a Holy Space, a Space meant for us to let go. Stretch your legs, your arms, the knotted muscles of your spirit. We have run swiftly, with vigor, with passion, with purpose. There have been obstacles. The path has not always been smooth. And we have been worn low. But in this space, we can be refreshed. In this space, we can encounter a fountain of life that renews. In this space we may worship with all of who we are. We may inhabit the fullness of our creation. All that separates us falls away and we are equal before Yahweh. Beyond this moment, as we continue our worship in the daily patterns of life, may we immerse ourselves in the mystery of the Holy, and may we always seek to dwell where love is the language most spoken and peace is the path most taken. May it be so. May it be so.

Almost two years ago, a good friend of mine asked me why I thought it was so important to use inclusive language in the church. I don’t remember exactly how I responded, but I remember that my answer was less-than-stellar. I didn’t know how to put into words why I thought it important, just that I knew it was. But now, having studied more about this issue, I am far more prepared to defend my choice.

An insightful reflection from Rev. Diana Butler Bass in response to the shooting that occurred this morning in Arizona involving Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords. Follow the link HERE .

Wonder. What an interesting topic. I’ll admit that it’s one I’ve been turning over in my mind constantly for the last few months, and when April approached me a few weeks back to share my reflections on wonder, I jumped at the chance. I had no idea how difficult this would be for me to do. It would be easy for me to stand here and tell you that wonder is what I experienced while standing atop Table Mountain in South Africa; that wonder is seeing things first-hand that can only be described as miraculous; that wonder is somehow being able to distinguish that you’ve heard the voice of God speaking into your life. And while all of those things would be legitimate, speaking about them would be the easy way out. Lately I’ve been struggling very hard to believe in wonder, or at least, struggling to let myself experience it. My cold academic mind militates violently against my deeply spiritual heart on a regular basis. Many days I find it hard to believe in a divine Other as I encoun...

There are churches I have known that have completely missed what being a church is about. The infighting and politics have completely trumped any form of pastoral care and generosity. Everyone has such an agenda that it is impossible to truly grow and become vibrant as a congregation. Instead, stagnation occurs, and eventually death comes knocking on the church doors. I wish there was some way to shake a congregation and yell, "WAKE UP!" But there isn't. We can only stand by and watch and cry and pray. But how does a church get to this point? The churches I have been a part of in my life have at one time or another been thriving bodies of Christ, being in the world doing things. They were places of joy and celebration. And even though the two churches in which I grew up preach a theology that doesn't align with what I believe now, I can still appreciate how both of them grounded me in a faith that has held on for dear life through my life's struggles. It's tru...

Hey friends, check out my friend Amber Garner's blog about her upcoming move to the Dominican Republic to work with an orphanage. On her blog, you can even donate to her ministry via PayPal. It costs a lot to give up everything to move to another country, and I'm not just talking monetarily. But if you are led to do so, feel free to help support her through your donation. Every little bit helps. THANKS!!! Amber in the D.R. (click here)

Here's a great article from EthicsDaily.com written by one of my professors and mentors, Dr. Andy Watts. It is an interesting assessment of the changes in the Southern Baptist culture over the last several years. Check it out HERE .

This week is Holy Week , a time in Christian tradition where we focus on the final week of Jesus' life as portrayed in scripture. I grew up in the Southern Baptist faith tradition. As a Southern Baptist, we really didn't observe much of greater catholic (little "c") liturgy. Every few years we would get the liturgical bug and observe some form of Advent, but even that was a stretch. More often than not, the celebration of Advent stemmed from some Lifeway or Southern Baptist Convention material. It wasn't until I got to college that I first encountered the Lectionary . Even then, my early encounters with the Lectionary were purely speculative, as the churches I attended, much like while growing up, did not follow or use the Lectionary in weekly spiritual life. Much like other liturgical practices, my being Baptist at the core (something I've only recently come to accept) kept me from engaging the Lectionary purely by accident and circumstance. It wasn't unt...

This morning my mom texted me to tell me that she was carrying the South African flag this morning at church in honor of me and my travels in Africa for a missions emphasis at my parents' church. When I read that message I just started crying. In fact, I'm still crying and will probably do so all day now. And I had to ask myself why this simple statement affected me so much. I have a South African flag in my room along with paintings I purchased while there. Looking at this may make me miss it, but it does not make me cry. I am crying because I love the church. And that statement is such a divergence from where I have been for the last several years. There have been moments over the last few years when I have said that I never wanted to be a member of a church again. I have said horrible things about the body of Christ. And it hurts my soul knowing that I have said such things, because even though we metaphorically refer to the church as the "body of Christ", there is...

"As we continue our worship in the daily patterns of life, may we immerse ourselves in the mystery of the Holy, and may we always seek to dwell where Love is the language most spoken and Peace is the path most taken." For several weeks, this has been the unison congregational response to our worship at Glendale, almost like a communal benediction. This response connected with my spirit for some reason so much so that I committed it to memory and pray it each day. But why? Why this particular response? I think this concept of continuing worship is what first drew me to these words. I cannot begin to count how many times I have both heard and said the phrase, "Worship is a lifestyle, not an event." We do not really have to say that at my church. We belong to a bundle of life, and we live this life through one another. And then there is this concept of "daily patterns of life." As someone who finds himself stuck in the monotony of daily schedules, reframing m...

today i sat in church and cried. i cried hard. my friend allyson, who was sitting next to me, obviously noticed but said and did nothing. for this i am incredibly grateful because, at the time, i was really struggling with why the service was affecting me so much. but now i really know why. today during church, the interim pastor presented an opportunity for people to make themselves vulnerable. he asked any family dealing with job loss to come forward to the altar so that the church could gather around them a pray over them. and i saw people come forward, letting themselves be honest to their church that they were struggling and were in need of prayer, i started to cry. it moved my soul. i sat on the third row of a church with which i have fairly profound disagreement doctrinally and felt the holy spirit move. i saw the church as it should be. i saw members of a christian community hurting, and i saw their sisters and brothers surround them. from that point on i just couldn't keep...