Sunsets...

  So I really like sunsets. They are my favorite. Sunrises are OK I guess, but they only reveal what can be seen to the earthly horizon, they show us what we already know.
  Sunsets on the other hand, slowly pull open the curtain to the Heavens. Each passing minute revealing an expanse beyond the imagination. Perspective changes as the horizon goes from being measured in miles to being immeasurable, unknowable.
  So, yeah, sunsets are the best.
 

The Theology of Men

So, we went to a church for  a while where the the theology of men was taught, and it was dangerous.

    It was a place where a man could stand and preach a Gospel that says "If everything works out perfect, it is Jesus at work." Which at face value sounds good, but what about when things don't work out? Is that Jesus not at work? What if you still are dying of cancer, or struggling with a failing marriage, or infertile? Are those times when Jesus says "I'll pass, have fun with that"? 

   It was a place where it was taught that the promises of God were subject interceding historical context and he could change his mind and not fulfill them if He so chooses. So if God can change his mind and go back on His word then what hope is there? All God's promises can be nullified in an instant based on this man's teaching. "But the teaching is great, we love his teaching".

   It was a place where I heard the phrase "God's purposes might be for you to be dead" from the pulpit. I get the theology behind it - the Jim Elliot story. But to a person seeking refuge from his own self-destructiveness, these made for an interesting day and a long night. 

   It was a place where I sought out healing, but my injuries weren't worthy of their attention. My story was inconsequential, not worth remembering. 

   It was a place where heads turned away when a soul was bared. Eyes were covered when a heart was laid open for others to see into. Instead of applying salve and bandages of hope and healing, transparency was covered with an old woolen blanket so no one had to look at the ugliness of the open wounds and pink scars.  

    It was a place where my healthy skepticism grew into full fledged cynicism, I became the snarling dog. 

   It was a place that was closed, and cold, and introverted. It was a place where people were invisible.  A place where ghosts walked in and out each week, forgotten before they arrived.  

   It was a sad place, a lonely place, a bitter well to drink from. It was the place that broke me. That place, those people, shattered what I thought the Church was. 

   In the end, I left that place. It was an unhealthy place. A dangerous place. A place of death for me.

   One of the hardest things to come to grips with is this - how can people, good people, nice people, well intentioned people, be like that? I really don't understand it at all, and a couple years later, I still don't. I just know I won't let it happen again.

 
   

Has the American Church become it's own version of reality TV?

It would seem that in the American Church today we have embraced (or maybe we just reflect) the reality TV culture. Normal people are boring in our culture.  To matter to the church it seems like you have to have a past full of rebellion, promiscuity, brushes with Johnny Law, drug use, etc - or - you have to have a background of cultish legalism where you were a "good person" and did "good things", but were enslaved by the rules of men who ruled. So our church has embraced the idea that normal people are boring. If a Christian has had an ordinary life, with ordinary parents, in an ordinary house then you are just plain old normal, and that is boring and the Church doesn't care about normal.

If you are normal your problems aren't big enough, your scars aren't visible enough, your tattoos aren't dangerous enough, your baggage isn't heavy enough, your pain isn't strong enough, your mind isn't messy enough, your spirit isn't broken enough, your actions aren't heroic enough, your wounds aren't deep enough, your position isn't important enough, your fame isn't promotable enough, your bank account is not full enoguh, your talent isn't amazing enough, your words aren't eloquent enough, your face is not photogenic enough, your victory isn't victorious enough, your tragedy isn't tragic enough, your freedom isn't liberating enough, your glory isn't glorious enough, your life isn't interesting enough, and neither is your death. Thousands of normal people will pass into and out of the church's doors this week and no one will notice them. Some will never return, and no one will care.