Christianity

Holy Matrimony, Batman!

Holy matrimony, my friends, is a booby-trapped obstacle course full of perilous challenges. Think Legends of the Hidden Temple (my greatest childhood regret, oh how I wished to be a Blue Barracuda!). Last night, Megan and I overcame the single most formidable hurdle of our marriage. That’s right. We finished our first marriage book. And not just any marriage book, a Christian marriage book, one we started over three years ago.

Consistency is overrated.

Well, anyhow, we did it. We got through it. Ironically, we almost quit on the book, a year or so ago, while in a chapter labeled “Perseverance.” But we didn’t! (I have a feeling the author intended that chapter to be the book’s longest).

It’s called Sacred Marriage and is written by Gary Thomas. The book is pretty great, really. The speed at which we read is not indicative of the quality of the work or the messages in the content: we’re just lazy and watch a lot of Netflix and fall asleep way too early for mid-twenty-year olds. But I do recommend it. Unfortunately, I don’t remember much of the content (hey, I liked the ending; that’s got to count for something right?).

Best yet, I have another book on my shelf. Inquisitive friends will ask me about it, and I’ll look up and say, “Yeah, it was good.” They will nod their heads, and I will feel smart.  (more…)

I Hate Critical Christians (and Their Skinny Jeans, Too!)

It’s best to come to terms with who you are. I’m a critical sonuvagun by nature. In the blogosphere my kind are welcome, for sure, but on Sunday, in church, it’s different. Recently, I read through Hebrews, and in Chapter 12 the writer (somewhat) says, “Pay no attention to that critical guy, stirring up trouble. He’s just a bully with a blog.” Awkward, right?

So, fellow critical Christianers, what do we do? Show up, shut up, sit down? Maybe.

SIDE NOTE: If the pastor shortened his or her sermon, then the church could afford interactive Q&A from the congregation afterwards.

The older I get, and the more I read the Bible, the more I consider the mainstream’s misinterpretation and misapplication of verses—like the one from Hebrews 12—that suggest I shouldn’t speak my mind, or be who I am, in the church (like, say, a critical, tight-jeans-wearin’ hipster).

http://www.flickr.com/photos/conorkeller/4998467337/

This isn’t me, be tee dubs.  http://www.flickr.com/photos/conorkeller/4998467337/

(more…)

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.

Follow Up: The Judas Argument

A few weeks back I wrote a blog called “Professional Christians (and Other Oxymorons).” In short, I shared my distaste of paid salaries and wasteful spending—in my opinion, one in the same—in the modern church.

I’ve also since written a response to the responses of that post called, “A Thick Skinned Grin: My Reply to Your Response.”

As promised, I wanted to write a follow-up to a specific comment that came in. Anna from http://cannopener.wordpress.com/ (an awesome blog) wrote a comment on “Professional Christians…”, regarding what I deemed unnecessary and poor spending, that has since stuck with me.

Just a little question. Wasn’t it Judas who said “this [expensive perfume poured out in worship of Jesus] should have been sold and the money given to the poor”?

JudASS

This isn’t the first time I’ve come across this argument. The church spends a $1000 on a new drum cage; I say the money should be spent on more substantial purposes like the poor or sex-trafficking awareness (or maybe even… I don’t know… drum lessons so the drummers can learn volume control, a basic skill most educated drummers have).

What happens? Someone always says, “What about Judas and the perfume?” And another, “Remember when Jesus said, ‘the poor will always be with you’?” For those who don’t know what I’m talking about, go read the Gospels. I believe this story is mentioned, oddly enough, in each Gospel account.

In the story, a woman, Mary, anoints Jesus’ feet with expensive perfume. As Jesus points out, she is preparing him for burial and doing “a beautiful thing,” despite the grumblings of Judas and maybe other disciples.

This act is definitely a beautiful thing, and one of the most sentimental in all of scripture.

But here’s the deal: we can’t excuse the church’s poor spending habits by taking Jesus stories out of context, the perfume story especially.

My Quick Three-Point Rebuttal

1. Not every Jesus story can, or should, be flipped and turned to fit our modern times to solve our modern problems. The perfume story, I believe, falls into this category (this statement, of course, is worth arguing in better detail). To me, the perfume story speaks of the disciples’ sadness and confusion, as well as the humanity of Jesus, NOT an open door to spend money as we please. Jesus was to soon be tortured, executed, and buried. At that moment in time there was no better use of that or any perfume.

2. The Gospel of John states that Judas desired the money for himself because he was a thief. This was hardly my intention.

3. Jesus is not here any more. Not in the flesh, at least. Spending money on giant buildings with top notch gear and a full salaried staff (flying to conferences) is NOT synonymous with pouring perfume on Jesus’ feet. Our consumerism driven church is often wasteful and greedy—in light of the troubles of the world—and represents Mammon more than Christ.

mary-and-jesus-feet

This is my rebuttal. It may need some tweaking. I’m leaving soon for a cross-country road trip to Upstate New York, and I thought it’d be best to respond before this issue got too far away from me.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter! What’s your take on the perfume story? Does it excuse all church spending?

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?

Life in the Spiritual Fast Lane

Spiritual fasting. What do you think about it? Does it intrigue you? Personally, the thought of it makes me hungry, a bad sign. Fasting is definitely not my strong suit.

Recently, I read Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse. The second book of Hesse’s I’ve read, and admittedly my first on Buddhism, Siddhartha follows a fictional character (paralleling the real Siddhartha Gautama) who throughout his life searches for oneness and truth.

My upbringing has taught me to read all non-Christian, even non-evangelical, religious material with a filter. This filter acts less like a screen door and more like an actual door. Closed all the time.

As I’ve aged in spirit and body, I’ve come to realize that much can be learned from other religions. We all yearn for God. If a life-long monk wanted to take me out for coffee, or better yet, donuts, then you can bet I would take his offer. I’d probably even have to pay and I would still take his offer. I love donuts. I love talking about God with donuts.

This theoretical monk has spent his life learning to fast, learning to think, learning to be less. I would love to hear his insight, wouldn’t you? Just because religious roads differ, this doesn’t mean travelers can’t bump into each other every now and then. And get donuts.

Consumerism, Buddhism, & Ism-ism

Fasting was never pushed on me. I’m not blaming anyone else for my ignorance towards it, but let’s just say that the culture I grew up in simply didn’t value it. “It’s more of an Eastern thing,” I would hear or, “Just don’t tell any one about it.”

Regardless of how I got here, I’m here now. I believe that Americans have much to gain from learning to fast.

Our eyes have been purchased by the cinema of must-have.

Our hearts foster inward desires over the outward love of Christ.

Our bodies sleep best in a commonplace of complacency.

What if consumerism was just another powerless foe? What if we could break the paradigm? I wonder about a world where Western Christians could chose others before themselves, every day, with every dollar and every minute.

In the book, the young adult Siddhartha wishes to go into business with a merchant. The merchant asks Siddhartha what he can do. Siddhartha replies, “I can think. I can wait. I can fast.”

“… fasting, what good does it do?”

This is my favorite part:

It is very good, sir. If a person has nothing to eat, then fasting is the wisest thing he can do. If, for instance, Siddhartha had not learned how to fast, he would have to accept any service today, whether with you or with someone else, for hunger would force him to do so. But now Siddhartha can simply wait, he knows no impatience, he knows no plight. He can stave off hunger for a long time and he can laugh at it. That, sir, is what fasting is good for.

So what do you think, is it time Westerners start fasting? Can we still have donuts? Since I’m new to this whole thing, I hope to learn one or two things in the comments.