"You do not belong here. But shame on you for not staying."

I use this title in reference to a blog post by Brian McLaren because I am wrestling this whole idea of leaving and staying that is a big part of the PC(USA) - my own particular denomination - and part of Christianity in general these days.  Perhaps it always has been.

As I understand it, the author of a letter to McLaren (and within that letter a letter to Father Kevin Miller in response to an article of his in Christianity Today) is stating that this is how he feels within the evangelical community - as though they do not want him, but disapprove of his desire to find a broader theology outside of the narrowness of the evangelical faith he grew up in.

I am currently serving on a Response Team that is tasked with listening to an evangelical congregation within my Presbytery that is seeking to leave the PC(USA).  Last night, along with another member of said team, I met with the leadership of that community.  While the Task Force that initiated this move is more firmly entrenched in and articulate about the decision to leave, the Elders, Deacons, and Trustees are certainly aligned with them, although perhaps less capable of arguing their position, which essentially comes down to: "we believe in the Bible and follow it and you (the PC(USA)) don't anymore."

I fundamentally disagree with that position, but that's not the point.  My team is charged with listening to and determining if the leadership and the congregation are with the Task Force in its views, not in providing a corrective to their theological position.  It greatly saddens me that this is where these people are, for they truly do appear to be people of strong faith trying to the best of their ability to live that faith out.  I disagree with it and with them - and their usage of Jesus' commandment to "Love God and neighbor" being interpreted in a way that excludes, a theological conundrum that I find it difficult to wrap my mind around - but I wonder if the PC(USA)'s desire to hold together those in unity who truly do not belong here has not been a poor decision.

I think we as a church have been on the other side of the same coin as evangelical churches who deny the full personhood of those GLBT individuals who have grown up in their churches and then chastise them for leaving.  Are we not doing the same when we tell the evangelical fundamentalists that they are wrong, but they should stay within a denomination that profoundly disagrees with them on this issue?

So it appears I am moving more and more toward acceptance of dissolution with those congregations that are not like-minded: in Yeats' words, "Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold."  Perhaps it is time to stop trying to make them.

One White Woman's (Admittedly Relatively Light) Burden

I saw two films last week - one produced by HBO about "The Tuskegee Airmen" was viewed at our monthly Church Brunch and the other was the Oscar-nominated "12 Years a Slave."  While watching both, I was horrified by the treatment of our African-American brothers and sisters throughout American history.  It's not as though I'm unaware.  I've taken history classes.  I read books.  I've had friends tell me about their experiences with racism.  I've seen racism in action.  Seeing it visually is somehow more, I don't know, powerful.  Certainly worse.  Or better, if you're looking for impact.

I've also been reading James McBride's "Good Lord Bird" and he has a character (Harriet Tubman perhaps?) state something about a slave isn't just a slave, but so are his/her ancestors and his/her descendants.  He said it much more eloquently than I, and I wish I still had the book so I could use a direct quote, but essentially the idea that I've been wrestling with is our history remains with us today.

Don't get me wrong: I KNOW we don't live in "post-racial" America.  I KNOW that white privilege still exists, that people of color are perceived and treated differently, and have different challenges than I have had as a white woman, even as my gender has informed and affected my experience.

What I want to know is how is it that I, perhaps unwittingly or unconsciously, treat people of other races/ages/creeds/sexual orientations/abilities in a way that is Other and then, by definition, Less Than.  Where are my blind spots?  How can I more fully treat all people with love and compassion and kindness - and how can I more fully forgive myself and try again when I fail?

Science Guy vs. Creationist Dude

I just don't get the hubbub around the debate between Bill Nye and Ken Ham.  Or the argument that science and theology are mutually exclusive ventures.  Don't both only expand our understanding that the Universe and God are unknowable?  It seems to me that the more we "know" in either area, only points up the more we don't know.  The mystery that is Life, the Universe, and Everything; the mystery that is God.

The Creationist argument was debunked by Christian theologian Augustine of Hippo in the early 5th century. I mean, really.  Why are we still even having this discussion?  

As St. Augustine wrote, way back when: God is not what you imagine or what you think you understand.  If you "understand" you have failed. (quotations mine)

Bill Nye and Ken Ham debate (if you care): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6kgvhG3AkI

What to do? What to do...

I've been captured by the concept of "Uncertainty" lately.

I've been reading a lot: Anthony Marra's "A Constellation of Vital Phenomena," S.J. Gazan's "The Dinosaur Feather," John Dickerson's "On Her Trail," and Rob Bell's "What we Talk About When We Talk About God."  A novel about individuals in Chechnya caught up in the aftermath of the dissolution of the Russian government, a Danish mystery that also deeply engages scientific inquiry, a memoir that wrestles with finding the person within the flawed parent, and a book that questions God's relevance and even identity in our current cultural context. In a variety of ways, each of these addresses that concept: the idea that all is not necessarily what it seems, that a certain action does not always bring about the expected reaction, that Mystery is as much a part of Life as anything else.

Additionally, I spent last week at the Association of Presbyterian Christian Educators (APCE) conference, and was fed by wonderful speakers, preachers, and leaders.  I came back with my brain burbling with ideas and excitement and enthusiasm for ministry and education.  While ideas are good, and excitement and enthusiasm even better, I'm also aware that everything I bring to the table as we continue our journeys of faith in my church community may be received with joy or skepticism.  That the work we do together may succeed or fail - to some degree perhaps it is inevitable that it will do both.  That nothing is absolute, as much as I wish it could be or think it ought to be.

So the current question for me is: What do I do these musings?  In a world where the longing for Answers with a capital "A" is so strong, where the hope of direction that leads to positive response is so deep, how do we learn to live in the Mystery?  How do we accept that there is more that we don't know and will never know than there is that we do or will?  How do we live in the gray area that is Life not just without complaint but with acceptance and even joy?

More to come...