Christian

Guest Blog: When We Were On Fire

The following was written by my lovely wife, Megan Carr. Woot! We are officially a blogging family now. The girl gives me a run for my money. Check it out: synchroblog-photohome_uk

When We Were on Fire

Today’s blog is in support of Addie Zierman’s book When We Were on Fire. Though I haven’t yet had the privilege of reading it, I’ve been deeply encouraged by her blog for some time now. Addie has a knack for saying things my heart has always wanted to scream; yet my mouth (or fingers in this case) has somehow been unable to say. To put it simply: her words have helped me see my self and my past clearer. I encourage you to check out both her book and her blog.

Prior to this, I’ve blogged exactly three times in my life. Once on a dare, again as a class assignment and now. Grace for the rough edges is appreciated.

On Fire

I suppose the term On Fire for Jesus could be used to describe the entirety of my youth. Especially my Jr. High and early High School years. I grew up in an Evangelical Christian home, went to a private Christian school, and participated in nearly every Christian youth activity under the sun. In fact, both the school and the church I grew up in were in the same building. More often than not, I literally spent every day of the week at the church.

Back then, it felt as though being On Fire wasn’t an option. Everyone was burning, and I succumbed to the peer pressure.

My weeks were filled with the overwhelming frenzy of being On Fire:

Youth group, where I learned essential skills such as how to share my testimony and “save” someone in 5 easy steps.

Ministry where I devoted my Saturday’s to driving around in a giant blue and red bus making balloon animals and playing red-­‐rover with some of the disadvantaged youth of our area.

Bible quizzing where my “holiness” was quite literally put into direct competition with others.

Christian concerts and festivals where I joined other Jesus-­‐loving youth delirious with the high of perfectly programmed corporate worship.

Purity workshops where I learned Modest is Hottest and True Love Waits. While at the same time making lists of the essential qualities my future spouse was to have, and creating mod—podged collages built from pictures cut out of bridal magazines.

My youth was marked by many “mountain top experiences” with other Christian t­‐shirt clad youth. It certainly was intoxicating.

Flickering Out

In retrospect, I am both grateful for and disenchanted by my over-zealous Evangelical Christian youth. It provided a foundation and backbone for my faith. However, like other frenzies, constantly being On Fire simply wasn’t sustainable past a certain point.

There are a few definite experiences that caused the flame of my hyper-­Christian youth to flicker. Perhaps it was just a natural byproduct of the maturing process, but during my last years of high school I started taking an honest look at some of the professing Christian’s around me.

Some of what I saw was encouraging and faith affirming.
-­‐But-­‐
Some of it was hard to stomach and devastated the Christian bubble that had encased my life thus far.

Without going into specifics, I’ll just say that several encounters I had with other Christians at this time seemed nothing but trite, judgmental, and sometimes just plain illogical:

  • Tough questions oversimplified and met by clichés such as “Jesus is Truth” and “Just trust God”.
  • Pointed accusations from fellow Christians that my life was not bearing enough fruit.
  • Older peers making drastic and devastating mistakes even though they were once on fire too.

After a while, these experiences had worn my spirit; the cracks in my Christian foundation becoming more and more pronounced as time wore on.

Why is it that in times of struggle, we too often allow the seeds of doubt to overwhelm the seeds of hope? I don’t have an answer, but this is exactly what started to happen to me. Doubt and angst settled into my life at a frightening rate.

Burn Unit

Feeling both burned and burned-­out, the period of time directly after high school was difficult for me. I was in uncharted territory. Before, faith had come easily, Christianity felt natural. Now, I struggled with hurt, confusion, and doubt.

Not knowing what else to do, I distanced myself from the so-­called Christian lifestyle. I stopped participating in the ministries I played a role in; I fled from the Beth Moore Bible Studies often forced upon me by well-­meaning women of the Church.

I took a breather. Knowingly or not, I needed to create some space, some time to look back on my Evangelical Christianity-­saturated journey thus far. I needed to separate the good from the bad and to make amends with some of the experiences and people I’d been burned by.

Though difficult, I firmly believe taking time to leave and welcome the space was one of the healthiest things I could have done. If I had kept “pressing on”, I know the aftermath would have been far more devastating. I needed to question, to doubt, and to let the anger and hurt work itself out. I needed the burns to heal.

Salve for the Burns

Like burns often do, the ones in my life have left their mark. These scars come in the form of cynicism and distrust of many of the things most Christians eagerly embrace. But more than that, they also serve as a reminder of where I’ve been, and how far I’ve come. It would be too easy for me to have never moved on from the time of hurt and anger, to wallow in the injustices I’d experienced.

While I’d love to say I was able to move forward on my own strength, it would not be the truth. If it weren’t for a few dedicated people in my life guiding me through and out of the times of struggle, I would probably still be wallowing.

If I were to wrap the moral of my experiences up with a neat little bow, I would say this: fellowship is invaluable. And by fellowship, I mean the real (and often messy) kind where you’re free to question, doubt, and feel angry if necessary. Find someone to walk through your struggles with you. You are not alone in this. There are others who have been burned too. It many seem hard to do, but keep talking and questioning until someone recognizes what you’re saying and comes alongside you, if only just to listen. Simply being heard goes a long ways towards healing. Give someone the chance to listen.

Perhaps, eventually you’ll be able to do the same for another who’s been left with the smoldering aftermath of once being On Fire.

The Christian Dilemma of Disagreement

Do you remember your first time? I do. A bet a lot of Christians do. There’s nothing like the first time, the one where you expose everything and… share a theological stance when—worst case scenario—the ear on the other side of the table disagrees with you.

Disagrees? Can Christians do that? Should Christians do that?

My First Time

I’ve gotten better, since my first time that is. I remember it well. I was in youth group, in high school, and the hot topic of teenage dating came up. I argued for it; he argued against it. I hated him. Well no, but he was the type of Christian who always seemed to think the opposite of what I was thinking. I’ve grown to cherish people like this—because, well, it seems that everyone disagrees with me these days—but back then, I couldn’t really handle it.

I remember feeling so caught off guard, I didn’t know what to do. One of us is right, I would think, which means God is against one of us—obviously, not me. 

Processing disagreement has less to do with spirituality and more to do with maturity. At some point we become adults and our emotions dwindle down a bit. We learn to listen and smile—even when we feel like calling someone Mr. Poopy Pants.

For some reason though, spiritual arguments exist on a different level. Our beliefs are very special to us. We’re allowed to have political arguments, sports arguments, American Idol arguments, but when we disagree over spiritual arguments, we take real offense.

Offense/Defense

The reason we take great offense to spiritual disagreements is because we associate God with our beliefs. If I’m wrong then God is wrong then there is no God. I would argue that this is not healthy; however, we have all done it.

I’ve had to learn this lesson many times over. I remember singing along to the mewithoutYou classic song, “Four Part Letter Pt. 2” where the singer yells, “We don’t want our beliefs, God of peace, we want you.” I would sing along and think I knew what that meant. Then I would get into an argument over salvation and walk away with my faith shaken.

If we are one body, if there is one God, if there is one truth, why are we disagreeing so much? 

Our beliefs are not God, but we associate God with our beliefs.

A Dull Stab

Since I chose (yes chose) the route of becoming a slightly left leaning, emergent apologetic Christian—I’m only labeling myself, which I hate doing, for the sake of this blog post—I’ve signed up for my fair share of disagreements. To make things worse, I also dislike the majority of whatever the church does these days. There are other things, but you get the point. I’ve signed myself up for a lot flak.

I’ve grown a pretty thick skin, and I’ve also matured a bit. At the end of the day, regarding our spirituality, we are all just taking stabs. Some use a duller knife than others, yes. But we are all just taking stabs.

There are few things the Bible maps out for us very clearly. Most topics in scripture, however, are meant for a life of meditation, reflection, conversation, and argumentation. We are not meant to have the answer to every question in our pocket, not yet at least.

Is there predestination? Are homosexuals allowed in Heaven? Is there even a Hell—in regards to how we currently think of it? Is church suppose to be how it currently is? And yes, have we made a mess of worship?

We may get the answer in Heaven; we may not care when we get there. What I’ve learned is that it’s okay to ask; it’s okay to argue; we should expect disagreement from one another. Argument proceeds understanding and develops our faith.

Listen, learn, and share what’s in your heart! Be mindful and understand that God speaks to other people as well. Also, you are allowed to be wrong. I do it all the time.

Questions to Argue

1. Have you ever had a spiritual argument that shook your faith?

2. Is there danger in equating God with beliefs (denomination, translation, political views, etc.)? Or should they be one in the same? Is that even possible?

3. If we learn to disagree—to listen and respond in grace—could the Body build a tighter bond?

Killing the Program: Further Thoughts on Worship…

Last week I posted, “Confessions of a Former Worship Leader,” which garnered quite a  bit of attention. The post deserved an immediate follow up though it seemed best to let it simmer, both in my brain and yours.

The main argument of the blog was that musical worship in church has gotten a bit out of hand. And while I don’t wish to see an end to musicianship in the church (by any means), I do think it’s healthy to deconstruct what we do, examine it and question.

The sacredness of worship is beautiful and timeless; the traditions we’ve built are what’s worth questioning.

In the days since that post, I’ve had a couple great conversations regarding church and the program—some I agree with, some I don’t. There seems to be a growing sentiment of disdain for the modern, local church. You could almost call it distrust.

I just don’t trust where the money goes…

I just don’t trust the motivations…

I just don’t trust the program…

In fewer words, the growing sentiment is this: let’s kill the program. The program (church program, that is) is, arguably, built to shuffle many people in and out of a building on Sunday. The before statement removes any spiritual aspect from the motivations of the elders and pastors, I understand that. But this is the perspective of people like me who just don’t relate to a big show on Sunday. To us, church is, and should be, nothing more than a gathering of believers.

We believe that Church can happen anytime throughout the week, and the existence of a stage feels counterintuitive to Christ’s message.

To be honest, I’ve grown past my contempt. Big church isn’t something I feel we should kill. I still have struggles, yes, but I’ve come to respect big church for who they serve and all the good that they do. Just because I don’t personally relate to the show on Sunday, doesn’t mean other people can’t. In fact, many, many people do. This was a hard realization to make.

Sometimes, I feel the criticism take over. In these cases, I’m sinning.

If we’re not careful, the distrust in our church may become just another empty tradition we wrap ourselves up in. This is why every believer needs to be in fellowship. Not in a big church, not in a little church, just in church. Other believers keep us grounded. When we have someone to bounce ideas off of, instead of the padded walls in our brain, we are given feedback and advice. Sometimes, just saying something out loud relieves the tension.

Here’s some questions to ponder:

1. How do we mend the growing sentiment of distrust between believers and the church?

2. Will there always be a gap between anti-program and pro-program believers? Is this an issue we should even try to solve in this world?

3. By respecting the program, would those in church be more willing to respect the, I hesitate to say it, “organic model”?

4. Can corporate worship exist outside of physical church walls?

5. If we’re not involved in church, do we have a right to criticize it?

What do you think?

Confessions of a Former Worship Leader

Corporate worship, about two years ago I walked away from it. Praise music on Sundays, youth on Wednesdays—after years and years, I said goodbye to it all. I didn’t loose faith, nor did I sin my way into shame, I just burned out. My feelings, my doubts, the weight of it all just bubbled up.

Like so many others before me, I was hurt by the church and left because of it. Hurt, though, is part of any relationship; it’s what we sign up for. As time went on, I realized my hiatus was less about mending hurt feelings and more about uncovering hidden ones.

This blog offers some food for thought about worship. Issues that bug me, stuff I’ve come to terms with. While I don’t wish to offend anybody, I do wish to start a conversation. So, here it goes.

This Isn’t a Concert?

Worship leaders deal with a lot of weird stuff. There’s this pressure, this weight. We’re told that God is the priority, that Jesus is the reason. “It’s not a performance,” we’re told. “It’s a Godcert.”

Then, we’re given a microphone and put under lights. We’re in a room, with a stage, built like a performance center. Songwriters exist in just about every church, yet only Top 40s worship is allowed. Keep the drums low, pick familiar songs, fill your time slot.

Isn’t worship so freeing! No, no, not really.

Since Christian musicians can’t call what they do a concert, or performance, or take any credit, they look for confirmation where they can get it. In my day, I’d count raised hands, or note those having an “experience.” Every worship leader does this. They’re lying if they say they don’t. The problem with this system is that we inevitably pander our services towards gaining such responses, both consciously and subconsciously.

Things get shallow, fast.

It’s not us, we say. It’s God. Then we pat ourselves on the back for having a good show, I mean set, I mean God is good, all the time.

Warship 

This is the part of the conversation where someone reminds me that worship doesn’t have to be in musical form, in a church. I agree. In fact, I’d counter back and say that worship was never meant to be in musical form, in a church, but a life-long commitment. Singing in church, I believe, is just an act of unison between believers, an act of commodore.

Singing brings us together. It builds bridges. It reminds us of the hope we stake our claim in. It blurs out the differences and clarifies the similarities. It’s for us!

Why have we labeled it worship?

Fellowship, our meetings, is about loving and learning from each other in the name of Jesus. It’s about community, communion, and communication. It’s about learning HOW to worship.

There’s this individualistic “experience” in worship that everyone wants now. People my age flock to church in hopes of getting spiritually high so they can last another week. Ultimately, this is what pulled the plug for me.

We, us worship leaders, hypnotize our churches with chanting and self-indulgent “improvisation” until our congregations are blue in the face. We execute drum build-ups in musical bridges like clock-work—always before the last chorus—for a high user “experience” return rate. We have it down.

Then we say, “God did it,” and I punch a figurative hole in a figurative wall.

Rain Down on Me

The quality of Christian musicianship has never been better. It’s not uncommon for me to buy a CD from time to time. I’m not asking for churches to stop what they’re doing. I’m just saying we call it what it is, a Christian concert. No weird pressure, no mental breakdowns, no expectations. Let church be church and concerts be concerts. People can skip the concert if they want to and not be chastised for it.

After all, worshiping God is a life-long sacrifice, not a thirty minute music set. Washing feet, serving in love, praying for others, this worship is true.

Worship God on your own time.

What are your thoughts?

Further Reading:

Killing the Program: Further Thoughts on Worship

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Please Support My Two Week Hawaiian Missions Trip

The Folly of Academic Faith

A couple nights ago, one of my best friends sent me a text:

I was reading 1st Corinthians the other night and came across one of my favorite verses… it reminds me a lot of you and what I think is a major message you are tying to get across to other Christians.

He had my attention. Finding myself in scripture? I’ve given up on that. I find God; I find ancient people with worn stories. I find context and complexity. I don’t find myself.

I used to, but not anymore.

A side-effect of embracing the academic faith? No doubt. My spiritual journey of debates and alternate perspectives is what I know now.

Why would I be in scripture? I don’t need that any more.

The next text came through and my eyes filled with tears.

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but a croaking, rusty gate.

If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.

If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

I hesitated sharing this. Have I accomplished this? No way. Has anyone? Probably not.

We don’t find ourselves in scripture, but scripture finds us. It speaks to us. It grabs us and leads us. Scripture reveals the bits and pieces of us that God is shaping.

My friend Scott thought of me when he read this passage of Paul. I was honored, yet felt more like an impostor. I’m no man of love; more often than not, I fall into the “croaking, rusty gate” category.

My attitudes as of late… I think I’ve lost my way.

The Folly of Academic Faith

In these moments, I’m reminded of the folly of academic faith. We get so wrapped up in ideas. We get wrapped up in our heads, in ourselves. Beautiful simplicity—all too often, we forget it.

This last year I’ve been obsessed with meanings: Heaven, Hell, gay marriage, politics, gender roles, you get the idea.

It’s been rewarding—I would say I prefer it—though I must be cautious.

The academic faith. It’s a door to a man-made mansion with rooms added daily. We’ll never fully explore it, nor will we ever find our way back. Unless, of course, we mark our steps with love.

A warning to all of you like me. Though we yearn for debates and arguments, and we feel as if we must always dive to the bottom of every issue and search endlessly for every solution, we must not forget love.

Thank you Scott for sending me those kind words, and the wonderful reminder.

Signed,

 

A Modern Day Pharisee. 

5 Reasons to Stay a Christian

I fell upon a christian radio station today.

I’ll usually stay away from these shows altogether. If I want to hear talk, I’ll go AM; FM is for music. Leave me alone.

Feeling a bit curious, I let the station keep. What’s a Monday without a little risk? Historically, I’m the type to keep to myself; whatever meat mainstream christians collectively chew and spit at, I try to leave alone and let them be.

Today though, I thought I’d feel the pulse for a bit.

Gay marriage. Of course. As if it’s the only thing to talk about. As if we don’t believe in anything else. As if Christians couldn’t differ on the issue. As if. (I’m doing my best Alicia Silverstone here).

Are we wrong, are they right? I’m not sure. All I know is that this stupid fight we’ve picked is getting the best of us.

Instead of serving the world, we’re trying to rule it. We’ve become obsessed with winning arguments and asserting political agendas; personally, I’m convinced the Kingdom of God is more than just a lobbying group in Washington. It has to be.

It has to be in the streets. It has to be in our homes. It has to be living and breathing love.

Otherwise, I can live without it.

5 Reasons to Stay A Christian
(For frustrated Christians like me)

1. Jesus, Moses, God, Paul, all instruct us to love our neighbors. No agenda. Staying in community keeps us focused on this goal.

2. There are worthy causes to fight for. How do we know which is which? In peaceful protest, Jesus died for his cause. If it’s not worth your life, is it worth fighting for? Will it save another’s if you do?

3. Agreement isn’t the point; what we need is your voice. Mainstream radio, TV, and mega-churches expect us to vote, argue and tolerate what and how they do. The Family is beautiful in it’s diversity, not sameness.

4. Leaving doesn’t make the statement you think it does. Weakness is not meekness. Doors will shut, ears will close, communication will halt. Change takes time; speak as one who loves and listens.

5. Your tithe can change the world. I used to think tithing was a cop out, but money is a faithful way to serve when you can’t otherwise. These people could use your money (and time and energy as well): Potter’s House, Restore International, World Vision, The Mentoring Project, just to name a few.

I’d love to hear some feedback on this. Can arguments (like gay marriage) distract the purpose and hinder our reach? Or are they worth fighting for?