For many reasons it seems that the more I grow in faith, the more difficulty I have with my evangelical church background.  These difficulties tend to be more cultural than doctrinal.  I believe that God made us, that Jesus died for us and rose again, and his Spirit works in everyone who follows him.  Perhaps that sounds a bit too fundamental to people on the outside (I don’t mean it to), but even so you may ask, ‘So what’s the problem?’

My struggle is not with theology, but with the way that Christian faith is often translated into real life spirituality and lifestyle.  Religious doctrine, after all, is nothing more than words and abstractions.  What really matters is how that doctrine is fleshed out in practice.  When I look at the practice of the contemporary evangelical Church, I am deeply disappointed.

It is comforting, then, to know that I’m not alone in that feeling.  ‘Chaplain Mike’ at internetmonk.com just provided I really good explanation here which I find really helpful.  Instead of duplicating his thoughts, I’d like to highlight a few that I find especially relevant to my experience:

‘A “solo Scriptura,” literalistic, precisionist view of the Bible that does not adequately grasp hermeneutics, literary genre, history of interpretation, and church authority’ — Of course there’s the silliness of ‘Left Behind’-style Biblical interpretation.  But it also takes a subtler and more dangerous form when Christians naively assume that a 2,000-year old text (or 4,000 in the case of the Old Testament) should be immediately accessible and relevant to contemporary life.

‘A continual confusion of means and ends, and the inability to see that changing methods can and does alter the message’ — This is a huge issue in worship ministry.  It’s what happens when church leaders try to be ‘hip’ and ‘cutting edge’ without taking on the more difficult task of examining, adapting and refreshing the culture and life of the church.  Just throw in a few trendy songs and an overhead projector, and distract people from your impoverished theology and dysfunctional practice.

‘Preaching that sets forth principles to help us live as good, moral people, rather than proclaiming what Jesus did and does for lost and sinful people’ — The message of Jesus is radical and revolutionary.  It’s also difficult to swallow.  On the other hand, most of us are already trying to be ‘good, moral people’, so if we talk about that, more people will stick around.  In the public sphere, this translates to an obsession with the culture war and issues that are wholly unrelated to the Gospel: abortion, sex, evolution and conservative politics.

‘A “temple-oriented” approach to the Christian life wherein everything revolves around the church and its programs (“churchianity”), so that churches are turned into family-friendly, religious activity centers rather than places of true discipleship’ — This is by far issue number 1 for me right now.  Instead of the church being a means to develop spiritual life, we make it the object.  This saps us of our strength to do anything really meaningful, and at the same time fuels conflict within the church as everyone fights tooth and nail to shape the organisation into one that fits their personal ideal.  This really is a remarkable form of idolatry.

‘“Worship” that is more about the worshiper and his/her preferences and emotional experiences than about giving honor to the true and living God and reenacting the story of Christ’ — Contrary to the Bible, church tends to teach that Christianity is about personal salvation, rather than world-transformation.  This leads to intense self-centredness, which churches respond to by helping individuals to feel that they are on the fast-track to heavenly bliss.

‘An inability to see the dangers of power and greed as clearly as the dangers of immorality’ — What would happen if churches cared as much about its members’ bank accounts as it did their sex lives?

I find these to be very serious concerns, and I have to find some way to reconcile my faith with the evangelical tradition that gave birth to it.  I could turn up my nose in disgust, as many have done.  But, after pronouncing the church guilty of hypocrisy, I find myself unable to cast the first stone.  Neither am I content to live with my discontent.

I suppose, then, that I am a post-evangelical wanderer.  Not that it really matters what I call myself, of course.  But the great thing about cyberspace is that it makes it easy to share your concerns with a wide audience.  On the map of Christian culture and history, this is my ‘dot’.  Where’s yours?

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This post is part of an ongoing series. You can find out more by clicking here.

‘Not doing’.  This idea is perhaps at the very centre of Taoist thought.  Many people have adopted it as their guiding motto.  And yet it is so perplexing!  What does it mean?

It doesn’t mean passivity or inaction, a couch-potato philosophy.  It has more to do with our attitude and motivation, actually.  It means not striving to accomplish things, and not desiring to achieve a result.  It means being content with the way things are, rather than remoulding them to your liking.

The Tao never does anything,
yet through it all things are done.

The Tao Te Ching tries to assure us that if we all followed this philosophy, the world wouldn’t come apart at the seams!

If powerful men and women
could center themselves in it,
the whole world would be transformed
by itself, in its natural rhythms.
People would be content
with their simple, everyday lives,
in harmony, and free of desire.

When there is no desire,
all things are at peace.

What do you think?  Could we all do more by doing less?  When I look at the legacy of western imperialism and the industrial revolution, I am tempted to say yes.

But perhaps you are dubious.  Global ‘not-doing’ is pretty far-fetched, anyway.  Still, we can experiment in our own daily lives.  Find something that you are used to holding onto tightly:  maybe a person or a situation; an experience from the past; or a desire for the future.  Let it go.  See what happens.

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In the ‘Red Letters’ series, we spend time listening to the words of Jesus.

On the next day of worship, Jesus went into the synagogue and began to teach. The people were amazed at his teachings. Unlike their scribes, he taught them with authority. At that time there was a man in the synagogue who was controlled by an evil spirit. He shouted, ‘What do you want with us, Jesus from Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are—the Holy One of God!’ Jesus ordered the spirit, ‘Keep quiet, and come out of him!’

As we have seen in Mark’s telling, Jesus began his role as a teacher by spreading a message of change.  Not a change of fashion, or philosophy, or religion, but a change of kingdom.  Not just a change from one oppressive human government to another, but the end of the rule of Caesar, and the beginning of the rule of God.

Does that surprise you?  Today it is much more common to think of him as either the founder of a religion, or perhaps as a good moral teacher, and that is not wrong.  But as we are learning, neither of those labels make sense without starting where he started: with a revolution.

As always, change brings uncertainty.  A revolution where God is in control means a new order, a new way of life, a new society.  Who will benefit?  Who will lose out?  Who will rise, and who will fall?  These are the questions that Jesus’ followers as well as his enemies will have to wrestle with.  Which brings us to one (particularly noisy) demon.

The ‘evil spirit’ who shouts at Jesus doesn’t need to ask who he is, but it is anxious to understand what he will do. It fearfully demands to know what the coming Kingdom will mean for its own way of life.  As we read this, we can ask the same question for ourselves:  ’Jesus, what have you come to destroy?  What have you come to establish?  How will your kingdom be different than what we already know?’

The truth is that when we decide to follow Jesus, to join his revolution, nothing is safe.  Our way of life, our jobs, our families, our commitments and our relationships:  everything is at risk of radical change.  It would be easier if Jesus only asked us to be friendly, honest, loyal, etc.  Kind of like our heavenly scoutmaster.  But what if he asks us to buy a smaller house and send the extra money to Africa?  Or to send our kinds to public school?  Or to let a homeless guy sleep on our couch?  Or to change who we vote for in the next election?  Or to give up a cozy executive job to head up a non-profit?  Or…?

‘What do you want with us?’ Christians have spent many centuries finding lots of creative ways to avoid asking this question.   But whether we ask or not, Jesus and his message are there just the same.  We can choose whether or not to follow him, but we cannot wish away his kingdom.

When Jesus speaks, it is with authority.  When he confronts a demon, he gets the last word.  Not because he is especially charismatic or powerful, but because he is standing with both feet firmly planted in the reality of what he is preaching.  His enemies can ignore him or resist him with force (and they do both), but they can’t change the truth of his message.  The authority of Jesus’ words and actions helps us to see that the kingdom of demons—and all the oppression, violence and fear it represents—is already overthrown.

A new order, a new way of life, a new society.  Who will benefit?  Who will lose out?  Who will rise, and who will fall? As we follow Jesus we can explore these questions together.  But one truth is undeniable, indisputable, unshakeable:  The revolution is here.

‘Sabbath Reflections’ is a weekly meditation from a Christian perspective. You can find out more by clicking here.

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