So there I was driving to church listening to k.d. lang’s Hymns of the 49th Parallel. When I got to her cover of Neil Young’s “Helpless,” my heart broke. In that moment, Young was the author and lang was the finisher of my faith. I can’t explain it, but I was smitten with a belief that was at once rank and pristine. It was like being lifted on the wings of a pigeon: hopeful and foul.
Baby can you hear me now?
The chains are locked
and tied around my door
Baby, will you sing with me somehow?
Helpless, helpless, helpless
Helpless, helpless, helpless
Helpless, helpless, helpless
Helpless, helpless
Blue, blue windows behind the stars
Yellow moon on the rise
Big birds flying across the sky
Throwing shadows in our eyes
Leaves us
Helpless…
(“Deja Vu” Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young © 1970 Atlantic Records)
Perhaps it had such an effect on me because I have been a religious vagrant and rambler for 20 years, and I am pretty damn tired of it.
I grew up the son of a Southern Baptist preacher. In 1985, when my parents left the state and I stayed, I found myself at sea without a pastor. For several years my spiritual DNA kept me in the Baptist culture, but I was increasingly drawn to folks who were tired of easy answers and were resisting the rightward shift by becoming subversives or expatriates. I reached a point where I couldn’t take it anymore. Even though there were Baptist people I loved (and still love) like family, the denominational leadership-sponsored violence toward women, the poor, homosexuals, public schools, Democrats, etc. in the name of God just became too much for me. So I split.
For years my family and I shopped around and experimented with different denominations (I won’t bother you with the details of that excruciating journey.). After a while we discovered we had a community of friends and neighbors that felt very much the way we did. We all wanted to be connected to God and other believers in a tangible and important way, but we also wanted to serve the aims of social justice within an urban, historical community of faith. None of us was interested in the pop religion of the Six Flags Over Jesus out on the highway, or the society churches where jackets, ties, and Lexus SUVs were mandatory.
We were not the picture of church perfection (or maybe we were). Our group ranged from agnostics to fundamentalists. Our gatherings were more likely to include pitchers of beer and rowdy debates about the divinity of Jesus than they were to involve polite conversations about Focus on the Family.
So like pigeons, all dirty and hopeful, 20 or 30 of us converged on a dying Methodist church. We had decided Methodism represented the closest thing to Baptist passion without the dogma. This particular church had a new pastor we liked and a great old red brick building in the middle of an urban setting. The existing congregation had dwindled to under a hundred, and consisted largely of elderly people who refused to flee to the ‘burbs like everyone else. They were unbelievably kind and welcoming; but the grip they had on the past was not allowing them to move into the future.
Shortly after our move, our more conservative friends left for a church that was more passionate about the Bible and evangelism. I suppose our more liberal friends slowly quit coming because there wasn’t enough social action and energy. Some quit because change was coming too slowly.
Soon we were left with about four pigeon families from the original flock. We were all vigorously flapping our wings: teaching, singing, cooking, and serving on dozens of committees. The original members of the church continued to be supportive of our presence, and we maintained a certain faith in and passion for change. This too has begun to pass.
Some of our remnant are leaving because they decided to divorce themselves from a United Methodist structural hierarchy they believe to be corrupt and dishonest—consumed with attendance figures and money more than grace and justice. Others are discouraged because they feel like the enormous amount of resources they are committing to fight institutional and spiritual lethargy could be more effectively applied elsewhere.
I’m left helpless. That’s me in the corner, losing my religion.
Why does it have to be so hard? Why have I had to search these last 20 years for a true community of faith, only to be repeatedly disappointed or betrayed? Should I just settle? Should I join the JC Supercenter (credit for that metaphor belongs here) out on the highway and just enjoy the show? Should I let inertia overcome me and quell my irreverent passions? Should I just give up? Does faith require religion? I don’t know anymore.
I believe in a personal God who is in love with me. I believe that God dances at the sound of my name, not because I am worthy or special, but because God is Grace. My desires sound pretty simple: I want to build a fire with that Grace and huddle amidst the storm with a group of fellow refugees. I want to invite the poor and the cold and the lonely into the warmth, even into the fire itself so they are incandescently transformed, not patronized. Is that asking too much? Is it impossible? Appears to be. Believers in and out of the church tend to just huddle, with no fire to warm them and little concern for outsiders.
So maybe I’m just as well off out of church as in it. But Middle Class Tool cautions:
But there's no community in that. There's no communion of souls, no chance to hold hands and sing, to chance to bare ourselves to one another. There's no family, no discussion, nobody to help you along your path. If we have the opportunity, if we have others, shouldn't we come together and eat and sing and read and reflect and discuss and argue and hold each other and laugh and weep, give thanks for our lives and celebrate the one we hold to be responsible for those lives? Shouldn't we pool our resources and use them to help feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and heal the sick? Isn't that also what religion should be about?
Of course, ‘Tool recognizes that all those things can exist outside the organized church. They just don’t usually.
In response to my current angst, a dear friend pointed out to me that my “friend community” was much larger, more diverse, and more vibrant than my organized church community; and that it is full of energy and grace. He pointed out that the Good Samaritan was portrayed as our model of Christ-like behavior, and he was outside the “church.”
He’s right. I have been blessed with a wonderful family and an extraordinary community of friends. I love them with all my heart. I guess I just don’t trust myself. If I have no liturgy or ritual, no official call to prayer and service, will I do it? Probably. But at this moment I can’t be sure.
So, back to my helpless trip to church. I can’t make the move my friends have. At least not today. Maybe I will and together we will defy the religion cartel and create something wonderful and holy together. Or, maybe I’ll be filled with inspiration and the power of 50 men as I reform the church with the jawbone of an ass. Or, maybe I’ll worship at Bedside Baptist Church, slouching downstairs for coffee and pancakes as I sing the Doxology and scratch. I don’t know.
For today, some homing signal still calls me to church. On the way, my prayer will be the one penned by Bruce Cockburn, once again given voice by k.d. lang.
Oh I have been a beggar
And shall be one again
And few the ones with help to lend
Within the world of men
One day I walk in flowers
One day I walk on stones
One day I walk in hours
One day I shall be home
(“One Day I Walk” High Winds White Sky © 1971 Philo Records/Rounder Records)
26 comments:
As your secular humanist brother, I can only tell you this. Best church I've been to in the last decade is your living room. Your precious family, our dear friends, wine or gin or Irish and tongues a-waggin' 'bout all things relevant or not. The flow of love is real whether housed in church buildings, living rooms, blogspots; pushed by the hand of god or encouraged by mere mortals. Don't be helpless in your search for church. You are church. We all are church.
Thanks, brother.
If I'm church, can I ask you to give me 10% of your income as a tithe?
Good post. Quite a bit more eloquent than mine. :)
I'd like to echo what Jeff said. We all carry it within us. Remembering that is what keeps me going, and what keeps me patient, when I'm frustrated by the failings and frailties of my religion.
Lately it seems I never know when church is going to raise its head. I've had it lately via email with an atheist friend of mine, out in my garage over my makeshift workbench, while half-asleep in the break room during lunch.
Hell, I've even found it on my blog and yours. By some colossal coincidence I've made a new friend from my hometown years after I left, a friend who seems to have a strikingly similar point of view to mine. (Still haven't met him in person, but then the AA Cardinals start their new season in less than a month.) Is it a coincidence? If so, it's a one-in-a-million shot. Maybe that's church, too.
Regardless, Jeff's right: where the love flows, that's where you find your church. You don't necessarily have to have a sermon and an invitation hymn. But I feel your frustration. Sometimes I don't know what to call myself.
Nice picture at the top of the article, but who's the guy?
This here has been as fine a church service as I've been to in a while, for instance. Amen.
Some kinda hippie, looks like. Prob'ly a communist.
i kind of understand your struggle in trying to find a community where you feel comfortable. my struggle hasn't been nearly as long as yours...only since i got out of high school almost 10 years ago. after i married a non-christian, i couldn't attend the easy-answer church for me anymore (greek orthodox) but, as i never really agreed with them, that wasn't too big a deal (still miss communion, though). basically, i just try to find a church where people aren't too judgemental, but i don't go out of my way to irk them either. if they have suits and lexuses, it's ok, as long as the members are helping out the community. and remember, you're never going to agree with 10 people on 100% of the issues, much less a whole congregation. find a pastor that opens your heart to God, and you're doing fine, in my opinion. i've been attending http://www.fpcnorfolk.org/index.htm for about a year and a half now. it seems that this specific pcusa church is a good congregation to be a part of. maybe the whole denomination is. anyways, if you haven't already, try a PCUSA church. i grew up pca, but they're a little too conservative for my husband, who will come to church with me under the right circumstances, so i try to build the right circumstances. (sorry for such a long comment)
http://christinablog.blogspot.com
P.S. I wonder if Neil Young thinks he's an atheist?
I love my sister.
I love my sister.
I love my sister.
Our genetic repetitiveness gets really annoying when there's no one there to bump us. I say, our genetic repetitiveness gets really...UNGHH...Thanks.
'Tool (I hope you don't mind me calling you 'Tool), let me know when you are coming up for the Cards, and we'll raise some church.
Jody, you're a credit to pigeons everywhere.
christina, good words. My wife grew up PCUSA. We were married there. We still go from time to time. That's the church with the Lexus issues. But, you're right; it's easy to become a snob about such matters. They do an awful lot of good for the poor. They paid my way to Nicaragua once to help build houses. Keep building "the right circumstances." I look forward to checking out your blog in more depth.
Reachers,
Let me start out by saying that reading this blog brought me very close to tears. My soul groans with yours, Brett. I have spent most of my Christian life groaning over what we have been presented as church. But though i've hated it at times, i've loved it all the more. Even in the midst of hypocrisy, arrogance, distortion, manipulation, greed and sometimes downright oppression, i have experienced love, grace, wisdom and peace that have far surpassed the pain i've suffered.
I like what you said, Sister, about confusing Christ with the church. If i may, i would like to make a distinction here. While Christ and the church are two separate entities...they are at the same time one (we are the "bride" of Christ) the way a husband and wife are one. In that light, Christ loves His bride more than anything other than Himself (i'll get into that deeper if i have to... just think before you jump on the 'God is an egomaniac' bandwagon). Christ gave His life so the church could be a reality. And Christ has given His spirit to every one of His children, to every part of the Body, and given each of us unique gifts to be used for the benefit of others, and ultimately, His kingdom. Put simply, the church's primary role is to literally be the image of Christ to the world, His presence, His hands and feet.
While many of you may be thinking, "Thank you, Mr. Theologian, for that lengthy explanation. I already knew all that," hopefully my comments are helpful in drawing a big picture of the true church in which we can all rejoice and find comfort instead of despair.
Here, i must clarify what most of us recognize, but usually fail to verbalize. The "church" as we know it--the modernized, Constantinianized, rationalized, organized, bureaucratic, businesslike Euro-Western institution which has existed for over 1600 years--differs drastically (understatement of the year) from the radical, forceful yet loving, self-abandoning, all-encompassing, persecution-promised, non-discriminatory, life-changing movement that Jesus started and commissioned us to continue.
Nevertheless, the true church as Christ intended it (again, i understand that most of the details are completely gray...but the details should follow in line with the purpose, and if they do not, then we can deduce that they are inappropriate for the church in any time or culture) is the place for all of His children to dwell, thrive, hurt, question, answer, seek, find, encourage, be encouraged, care for, rebuke, teach, be subject to one another, serve, belong and be empowered to usher others into the Body. As middleclasstool beautifully keyed, church must be the place where "the flow of love is real," and overflowing, i might add. Now love is a complex word. It's more than gentleness, hugs and compliments. Sometimes love is harsh. Sometimes love says things that we don't want to hear. Sometimes love hurts. Sometimes love makes us mad because we are guilty for not having the same love in return. That's another topic for another post, because there are certainly many who would disagree, but that's my view through the eyes of my experience.
I echo Jeff's encouragement, not only to Brett, but to all of us (including myself). Hang in there. Be thankful that there are more than one or two of us in our cities and even communities. There are many Christians around the world whose only contact with another Christian is often a foreign missionary, because their governments, culture and dominant religions smother the Gospel. The church has continued to grow for over 2,000 years, and God himself promised that "the gates of hell will not prevail against it."
My encouragement is twofold: lose hope in the institution, because it offers no hope; don't lose hope in the Body of Christ, because it's all the hope we have.
Grace and peace,
Matt
p.s.--sorry for being so long winded...just tell me to shut up or start my own blog or something if it gets on your nerves. i have this overwhelming obsession with being understood and with communicating effectively. please forgive me. see? i can't stop!
I don't want all of you to think that I sit here waiting all day to respond to comments; but the traffic on this post has been off the charts. Clearly, this is important to people.
Matt, I do think you should get your own blog. Not to get you off of mine, but because I think you have a lot to offer. By all means, keep bringin' it.
I don't want to give up on the Body. The trouble is how to best do that. The institution seems to continue the crucifixion, and the anti-institution seems to devolve into apathy. I don't like either.
Walker Percy said, "One dead, the other powerless to be born."
To the writer and readers,
Perhaps you are not aware, but there are many disciplined and hygienic pigeons in our great nation. As the spokesbird for the Coalition of Responsible Advancement of Pigeons, we wage a constant fight against this kind of ignorance and blatant stereotype. Although the pigeon metaphor in the blog was used in a self-deprecating manner to ultimately describe something positive, it still perpetuates the time-worn misconception that pigeons are "dirty," somehow unseemly, or, in the worst case, thought of as "the rodents of the avian world," as that most infamous of anti-Pidgites, President Harding, once remarked. While things have improved since those dark days of the Harding administration, today's discrimination is more subtle, and as a result, perhaps even more diabolical.
Where are the positive portrayals of pigeons in the media? Where are the depictions of those selfless pigeons that give of their time to comfort the elderly and pretend to enjoy their stale bread? Where are the films and stories about those brave carrier pigeons in wars gone past who served as front-line couriers, courageously risking their lives for some desperately needed coded message or map? Those these pigeons were kept segregated in separate military units from the other birds, that does not detract from their contribution. Furthermore, where are those tireless "stunt" pigeons that add to your European vacation by flying up from the cobblestones in some Old World city square? Or the next time you engage in a slow motion kung-fu standoff with a dark suited stranger at the other end of the street, don't forget as we fly up en masse to simply heighten the mood.
We do this for YOU. And where's the thanks? Not in this blog, that's for sure. Like oxygen or sex, society only notices us when we are gone. When we are not there to dispose of their bread and to occupy the the time of your elderly, when they would otherwise get up to mischief; when we are not there to revive an antiquated form of correspondence in some post-apocalyptic world; when we are not there to heighten the atmosphere of romance in a Venetian city square, or when we are not there to elevate the tension in a gunslinging standoff...then, THEN you will know our true value to your world.
Please remember that before you mindlessly sully the legacy of pigeons everywhere to illustrate a quick idea of "dirtiness."
Avery Benchshatter
Spokesbird, C.R.A.P.
Please forgive the link to the C.R.A.P. website. It is currently linking to some online shopping website or some such crap. I will have to speak to the chick in the IT department and hope I don't ruffle her feathers. Ahem.
Remember, Pigeons are your friends... www.imdb.com/title/tt0056869/
Pigeon...what? Maybe i missed something. Maybe it's a little of the grasper in me coming out... ?
Three options on that. Either we've got someone who randomly stumbled across the blog and decided to have a little fun/pee on the thread, we've got us some comment spam to promote that website he linked, or we've got a friend of reacher's just playing around. Dunno which.
OR, we have a sincere advocate for the avian rights of pigeons. I have been familiar with the CRAP's work for some time, and until now I believed them to be a hypersensitive group who just wanted to play thought police and advance their fowl agenda. But Avery has raised my awareness. I'm afraid my propensity for abrasiveness is coming home to roost. How could I have missed my blatant disregard for this marginalized culture? From this day forward, I renounce my use of "pigeon" as a synonym for "dupe," "chump," "sucker," or "sitting duck" (whoops, my apologies to Mallards Against Defamation).
Oi. You have a tendency to state the things I've been thinking. Perhaps that is because there seem to be more and more with these same frustrations. I can't help but believe they are headed somewhere.
While I have descended on a bricks and mortar community I currently feel mostly comfortable in, church for me in the last few weeks has come in the form of dialogue over lunch and connection through e-mails and blog sites.
The continual learning that I am broken and struggle with the concept of grace. I have trouble knowing how to love God and how to love others. And for all my frustrations and apathy and cynicism, I find hope in those around me who are also searching for answers. It amazes me even more that God does indeed dance at our names. Because of that, I suppose this crazy struggle is worth it.
Heh, and I should never attempt writing in the morning before being involved in an actual conversation with someone. I think I just managed to type out a bunch of unconnected sentences. Have fun.
-Jennifer
Bert,
Growing up in the buckle of the belt, was a disadvantage for me. I was a follower as a youngster, and it was easy for me to be duped. I was every youth pastor's dream; Smart enough to be a good convert, but too full of self-doubt and fear to question.
When I finally worked up the nerve to question some of the attitudes and practices of "the church," it amazed me how few were willing to engage in the dialogue. The lack of understanding, the lack of tolerance for questions, fueled my anger and buried my faith. In many ways, that anger still exists. Nothing gets to me more than the stereotypical "sins" of the church. Benny Hinn vacationing in Rio on the congregation's dime is but one example. His actions infuriate me, but the ignorance of his "flock" infuriates me more. Probably because I know there was a time when I would have been fooled. As your sister said, I'm confusing Christ with the church, but the cynic in me sometimes enjoys wallowing in that confusion.
Over the past 15 years I've gone from leading bible studies and buying Southern Baptist dogma to completely questioning god's existence. Throughout this radical change, our friendship has nearly vanished at times, but ultimately survived. For a time, my anger was even directed at you. You embodied (at the time) the "church" with which I could no longer comfortably associate.
Thank God (if he exists)that you were gracious enough to accept me as a friend after my anger had diminished. Thank God for your views on grace and love. Thank God for your non-judgemental friendship. Thank God for you.
I still doubt and question. But I know that's okay with you. You love me anyway. I don't know what church needs to be for you, but I know that our relationship is the one thing that keeps me questioning the issues of faith. Without it, I would have been a grasper by now. Thanks for helping me reach, even if we never reach for exactly the same thing.
"Some see God as judgement,
Some see God as Grace...
Some see their reflection
As they vainly run in place...
Some cannot see anything, but
Feel the need to pray..."
Hey Reacher - here are the full lyrics of the song I was mentioning tonight.
they seem somehow relevant to the discussion here.
Well you fight like the devil to just keep your head above water
Chained to whatever you got that you can't throw away
And you're shootin' through space on this river of life that you're ridin'
And it's whirling and sucking you deeper on down every day
So you turn to your trusty old partner to share some old feelings
And you find to your shock that your faithful companion is gone
And the truth slowly dawns that you're lost and alone in deep water
And you don't even know how much longer there is to go on
[ harmonica ]
Like an old Holy Bible you clung to through so many seasons
With the rules of survival in words you could still understand
When they prove something wrong you believed in so long you go crazy
And you're so close to folding the cards that you hold in your hand
Singing Holy Toledo I can't see the light anymore
All those horizons that I used to guide me are gone
And the darkness is driving me farther away from the shore
Throw me a rhyme or a reason to try to go on
Looking at that it sounds like Bono-style lyrics.
Scanning these comments, it strikes me how many of us are outside, in the cold, shivering, huddled close to one another for warmth. Listen closely and you can hear us planning awkwardly, through chattering teeth, for the construction of a new kind of church. Then again, maybe the cold and wind and snow only makes us stronger, makes our voices louder. Or maybe we're masochists who just need better coats.
I am thankful for the emerging community I find here. You all represent hope.
Thanks.
"But i still haven't found what i'm lookin' for." --Bono
A thought crossed my mind as i read through the comments on this post, and i'm left asking, As lifetime reachers, do any of us ever want to find what we're looking for?
Is it at all possible, and, if so, desirable to allow ourselves to grasp what we are able to, while still always reaching farther?
"But i still haven't found what i'm lookin' for." --Bono
A thought crossed my mind as i read through the comments on this post, and i'm left asking, As lifetime reachers, do any of us ever want to find what we're looking for?
Is it at all possible, and, if so, desirable to allow ourselves to grasp what we are able to, while still always reaching farther?
Well, dunno about you, but I found what I was lookin' for: the remote.
Since it's all the way on the other side of the coffee table I sure as hell am going to have to reach farther.
have you ever read screwtape letters by c.s.lewis? will help clear a lot of confusion. ive been at fpcnorfolk about 4yrs and my church family has given me more than i ever dreamed of. its there for the taking. every sunday im reminded how much He loves me a thousand different ways. in my search for a new church, i realized that i would find was i was looking for- if i went looking for hypocrits, thats what i would find- if i went looking for actual Christians who loved Him and acted like it, and were willing to share it, thats what i would find. at the corner of redgate and colonial, i found the latter. come see- we have a place for you
I am happy for you, Terry, that you found a home. If I'm ever in Norfolk, I'll try to stop by.
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