Accusers or Defenders? Reflections on The Crucible

As I shared the other day, I reencountered two classic works of literature this past week. I already wrote about my thoughts on watching the 2011 film version ofJane Eyre. Today I want to explore my reaction to watching a production of Arthur Miller's play The Crucible.

I had not seen or read The Crucible since high school. I remembered the basic plot but had forgotten most of the details. I had not ever, to my recollection, seen it performed on stage. Although I knew of the connection between the play and the infamous Salem witch trials of 1692-93, I was not prepared for the strong reaction I experienced as I watched the performance of a local Christian high school. In the director's notes was written:

It is our hope that as we leave the theatre following the production, we will heed the lessons of history to search our own souls.

Watching this play, particularly after viewing Jane Eyre only days before and after reading Danielle's reflections on visiting a slave prison, certainly has caused me to search my soul.

The Salem Witch trials were conducted in one of the most religious communities in America. To cite the director's notes: “The Puritans believed God had chosen them to establish a model community for the rest of the Protestant world and envisioned themselves as a 'city on a hill.' Their leaders created a theocracy founded on biblical principles, whose purpose was to prevent any kind of disunity that might open them up to destruction.” When I read this, I immediately think that this remains the ideal of certain groups of Christians. God has established the United States to be a city on a hill to the world and as such we need to found our laws and culture on biblical principles. Although I do not agree that God has established the United States as a city on a hill, I am certainly inclined to support the idea that we should found our laws and cultural norms on biblical principles.

But then I consider the results of this in New England. I watched the performance of The Crucible with a deeply troubled soul. At times it pained me to see these “biblical principles” applied in such a way that innocent people were accused, condemned and many of them hung merely on the basis of suspicion and ungrounded accusations. Certainly the issues involved were more complex than simple religious fervor, but the insistence that they were doing the work of God as they tried, condemned and executed these people (mostly women, which is also significant, although some men were also accused and executed) for witchcraft makes me question the very principles which they sought to uphold. They believed they were upholding the teachings of Scripture, when in fact they were violating the very teaching of Jesus to “love your neighbor as yourself.” Their own fervor blinded them to the travesty of their actions.

Arthur Miller wrote The Crucible at the time of the McCarthy trials, in which suspected Communists were accused and condemned publicly. He saw a distinct parallel between the two events. As I watched the play I saw parallels to our current society as well. Out of fear of perceived threats to the “biblical foundations” of society, out of insecurity and fear in light of cultural transformation and the economic difficulties we have been passing through for a few years now, I see a tendency among some to react with a similar witchhunt – looking for a group or groups of people whom we can blame for the “decline” of our country. The “illegal” immigrants are to blame, or the homosexual community with their “gay agenda.” We may not be able to put them on trial in a court of law anymore (thank God for that), but we still see them put on trial in the court of public opinion. We see our legislators in many states and in our national Congress, working too often to enact laws that restrict, exclude and punish those we blame for our issues, rather than looking for positive solutions that embrace the diverse mix of people that form our nation.

Where is the Church in all this? Are we, like the Puritan leaders of 1692, leading the witchhunt, seeking to accuse and condemn those we determine to be sinners? Or are we defending those unjustly accused, standing with them, affirming their dignity, worth and value as children of God against the voices that would cast them out? Will future generations look back on us as we now look back on the Salem witch trials?

I want to stand for those who are accused, condemned and outcast because they are different than the majority. I want to stand for those who do not have power, influence and privilege in our country. I don't have to affirm everything such people may or may not do. That is not the issue. The issue is that they are also children of God, uniquely created just as I am and worthy of full embrace as brothers and sisters. Jesus didn't exclude those who were on the fringes of society, the ones that the “righteous” people so readily condemned. No, he embraced them, ate with them, loved them, while directing his critique to those who considered themselves righteous. Do I care more about maintaining an outward appearance of righteousness, or do I care more about loving the real people God brings into my life?

Jane Eyre and Religious Abuse

I have reencountered two works of literature this week and both encounters have left me disturbed and reflective. The questions that they have raised dovetail with the issues raised by Danielle's post on visiting an old slave fort, as I wrote about the other day.

A few nights ago my wife and I watched the 2011 film version of Jane Eyre, starring Mia Wasikowska and Michael Fassbender. I do not aim to write a review of the movie here, but will say that my wife and I both found it enjoyable and well-done. I had not read the book in many years, so although I was familiar with the basic plot trajectory, many of the details had faded from my memory. I will not attempt a thorough explanation of the plot here so if you are unfamiliar with it, you may find it difficult to understand some of my comments.

As I watched, the role of religion in Jane's life struck me quite strongly. Jane is a strong-willed child, a girl who refuses to simply acquiesce to the expectations of those around her. This trait brings her much trouble. (And the feminist in me asks whether a boy demonstrating such behavior would have experienced the same response. Probably not. But we shall set aside examining the story from a specifically feminist perspective.) Sent off to a school for orphans, she enters a world that is disturbing in the manner and degree to which it seeks to crush the vitality of each girl sentenced there. This alone would be troubling, but more troubling still, this school, called the Lowood Institute, is run by a minister who believes that he operates it in a manner consistent with instilling godliness in its subjects. As such the girls there are deprived, abused and dehumanized, all while being preached to and indoctrinated with the Bible. Religion becomes a tool of oppression to Jane and the other girls of this prison.

Later, after a period of life in which she experiences happiness and love for the first time ever, Jane's world falls apart again and she flees the situation which is crumbling around her. Her flight brings her to a remote region where, facing death from exhaustion, she is taken in by another minister, Mr. St. John, and his two sisters Mary and Diana. In their home she experiences grace and kindness in the name of the Gospel. At this point my heart lifted, for I saw faith portrayed at least in some degree as it should be lived. Through their kindnesses and help Jane's well-being if not happiness is restored and she resumes life in new circumstances. However, her fortunes again change, this time for the better when she inherits a large sum of money. Because of their kindness to her Jane shares this inheritance with the St. John family, which allows Mr. St. John to fulfill his own desire of going abroad as a missionary. At this point the ugly side of religion shows itself again as he tries to persuade Jane to join him in his mission, not as a fellow laborer but as his wife. He insists that he knows what God has called her to and scorns her offer to travel and work alongside him as a sister but not as a wife.

This second abuse in the name of religion is not as severe on the surface as that given at the Lowood Institute, but it strikes me as abuse nonetheless. Although Mr. St. John is well-intentioned, by asserting his claim to know God's will for Jane and by expressing scorn for her when she offers an alternative demonstrate, he discounts her individuality, her wishes and her own relationship with God. As a man, he assumes that he knows what is best for her as a woman. As a pastor, he assumes that he has the spiritual insight and authority to tell her what she should do. But what gives him this right? And why can he not consider her viewpoint, her wishes and her desires? What he proposes strikes me as another form of imprisonment, likely far more benevolent than what she experienced at the Lowood Institute, but a form of bondage nonetheless since she would be pressed into it against her own will.

I recognize that Jane Eyre is a work of fiction and that there is far more to this story than the role that the Christian religion plays in her life. Nonetheless this particular aspect disturbs me, because it reminds me once again of how faith, religion and the Bible are too often used to abuse others rather than to liberate them and restore them to the fullness of their created humanity. Jane finds this restoration, but not specifically through the grace of Jesus Christ expressed through his children. Although Mr. St. John and his sisters do demonstrate this grace, Mr. St. John then contradicts it through asserting his own power and will over Jane.

I do not think this is what Jesus asks of us. I do not think he wants us to exert power and control over others, regardless of whether we think and believe that we are acting in their best interests. In most cases, we must earn the right to speak into the lives of others. (There may be at times a place for a prophetic word, but prophetic words in Scripture most often challenge the abuse of power, privilege and authority, which is not how we most often think of them in modern Western culture.) We should also consider carefully whether in our actions which we believe to be in the best interests of others we are truly affirming and upholding their dignity. Thankfully I think we have come a long way from the days of places such as Lowood Institution, but that doesn't mean we should not continue to examine our beliefs and our actions, lest in the effort to do good we actually do evil and destroy the image of God in another person.

I don't think Charlotte Brontë set out to write a critique of religion, but her novel certainly challenges me to think again about how I live out my faith. I would grieve to find when I stand before God that my well-intentioned actions were in fact abusive and destructive of human dignity, grieving God's heart. We can easily deceive ourselves, so we need to listen to the voices of others, both those who affirm us and those who critique us (both inside and outside the Church), seeking always to demonstrate the kindness and grace of God through our actions, rather than to exert power and domination over others in God's name.

In a future post I shall write about my other recent experience, this one with Arthur Miller's The Crucible.

For God and Country?

I had a very short-lived discussion with an acquaintance on Facebook the other evening over this article by World Vision president Richard Stearns. The discussion was short-lived because it quickly became apparent that pursuing it would be pointless, as the other party had clearly either not read the article or had failed to grasp the message. This person wrote: “We need a Christian America to show to the world who Christ is...” to which I responded with the question “What exactly does the phrase 'Christian America' mean?” I fear that many have merged their patriotism so strongly into their faith that they cannot see any distinction between the two. I have encountered this type of thinking far too often of late for me to ignore it.

Those who exalt America as a Christian nation generally have in mind that by our moral superiority and our acts of goodness across the world we proclaim the message of the Gospel to those who do not yet know it. They see the relative economic and political decline of this country as a serious threat to the kingdom of God, because after all how will the world know Jesus if we don't have the political and economic might to make him known? Because of our world dominance, they argue, the Gospel has spread across the earth. In fact one person tried quite strongly to persuade me that the current economic downturn represented a serious hindrance to the advance of the Gospel because it kept American Christians from being able to fund Christian activity.

That may be true in so far as we may not be able to provide as much material support to Christian ministries, but does that mean the kingdom of God cannot still advance? Does God require us Americans in order to accomplish God's global agenda? It seems to me we grossly overestimate our own significance if we think that God's purposes are hindered because we can't (or won't) give as much to Christian ministries. To put it quite bluntly, God doesn't need our dollars, although God gladly accepts and uses them when we surrender them and we do well to freely surrender them.

My discussion partner the other evening argued that America has blessed the nations because America, after all, was founded on Christian principles and has always been a “Christian nation.” Unfortunately such a mindset ignores the fact that those Christian principles viewed black people as not fully human, ascribing to them in the Constitution the worth of only 3/5 of a person—and that only so that the southern states could have more representation in the Congress, not that those black people would have any representation no matter how much they were worth. Those Christian principles affirmed slavery for nearly a century after the founding of this country and even after its abolition many Christian Americans continued for another hundred years to view and treat blacks as inferior. Unfortunately some still do to this day. Those Christian principles didn't view women as equal to men until after World War I, when we finally recognized that they should have a say in their government as well. Now, nearly a hundred years later, women still continue to fight for full equality in our society. What exactly are the Christian principles represented here? Certainly they are not the ones Jesus demonstrated when he interacted freely with women, when he crossed cultural and religious barriers and mingled with unclean foreigners. They are not the ones that Paul affirms when he tells us that in Christ we are all one. It seems hard for me to claim the moral high ground for America when we have so often been very far from it. It takes a very selective view of history to ignore the many ways in which we have not been a beacon for the Gospel, but rather have hindered it by our very actions.

Unfortunately this continues to be true today. While many Americans see our nation as leading the fight for freedom in the world, often those affected see us only as a big bully throwing its weight around in order to get its way. We act with pride and arrogance and even our most generous actions (and there are indeed such actions) are often done out of self interest, seeking to protect our own way of life from all perceived threats. Along the way we care far too little for those who are crushed or marginalized by our pursuit of the American dream and our protection of freedom. In the end we tacitly act from the belief that American lives are more valuable than the lives of others.

I do believe that the United States can be an agent of good in this world, but I don't think that we should claim to be a Christian nation. When we merge our understanding of the Gospel with our sense of patriotism, the result rarely turns out well. Another acquaintance commented in my Facebook discussion that given the size and influence of the United States, the “unhealthy combination of power and religion has greater impact on how Christianity is perceived in the world.” The Gospel has power of its own. It doesn't need American political or economic might to succeed. It doesn't even need the Ten Commandments posted in courtrooms and schools. As the same person said, “Christ showed us a different way. The Gospel works through humility and by the Word and Spirit.”

As believers who live in America we must break the unholy alliance of American patriotism and Christian faith and recognize that our faith should trump our patriotism. We need to stop turning a blind eye to the sins of our nation—both past and present—and adopt an attitude of humility and servanthood. Let's stop worrying about protecting our way of life and think about how we can use the abundant resources God has given us to improve the lives of others. Let's repent of the sins of our past and where possible take steps toward restitution and reconciliation. Yes, it may be costly, but that would be far better than trying to ignore or cover those sins and allowing the wounds to fester. America is not a Christian nation. It is nation with many Christian people who would do well to remember that being a Christian requires more of them than being good Americans who defend their way of life.

The Poor Will Always Be With Us

While in a conversation last week about the sermon I wrote about a couple weeks ago my conversation partner quoted the words of Jesus in Matthew 26:11—“The poor you will always have with you.” These words upset me because they were quoted in such a way as to excuse us from making serious efforts to reduce or eliminate poverty. They were a cop out and I don't think that Jesus meant them to be used as such. (In fact, I would argue exegetically that the issue of the poor being with us or not isn't really the focus in the passage, but that's another discussion.)

Our conversation that day centered on the Christian response to poverty and economic inequality. The man with whom I was speaking—a brother in Christ—sees the issue much differently than I do. He said that the playing field will always been uneven and that we need to accept that fact. Going further, he argued that our efforts to level the playing field are in fact sinful, because in making such attempts we presume to take the place of God. While I am quite sure that this brother and his wife do a lot to help people in need in various ways, I was astounded to hear him argue that we just need to accept economic inequality as an unavoidable part of human life, that in fact to work to counteract this constitutes sin. To quote Jesus' words in defense of this simply went over the top.

When I read the Bible, I find a lot of verses telling us as God's children to care for one another; to look out for the poor, the widows and the orphans and those who have been trampled by the powerful and wealthy in the world. I read the words of Isaiah in chapter 58 and hear a call to action, to work for change, not a statement that only God can level the playing field.

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:

to loose the chains of injustice

and untie the cords of the yoke,

to set the oppressed free

and break every yoke?

Is it not the share your food with the hungry

and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter--

when you see the naked, to clothe them,

and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

Elsewhere in Isaiah (chapter 1) we read a similar exhortation:

Learn to do right; seek justice.

Defend the oppressed.

Take up the cause of the fatherless;

plead the case of the widow.

I read the words of Jesus recorded in Matthew 25 and hear that the way I respond to those in need indicates clearly the condition of my faith.

Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.

I don't see how anyone who chooses to follow after Jesus Christ can argue that we have no right or responsibility to work to reduce or eliminate the inequalities and injustices in our society and globally. To not do so goes against the very exhortations of Scripture.

I imagine that my conversation partner that day would acknowledge at least some personal obligation to respond, and as I said I believe that he and his family do what they are able. But I believe that this obligation goes beyond us as individuals and even beyond God's people as the Church. I do not accept that it is sinful to seek to remedy injustice and inequality through government action. I acknowledge that this will never fully resolve or eliminate the problems, but we can certainly do something. Ellen Painter Dollar presents some strong examples for the role of government in addressing poverty and injustice in this blog post.

We can drive a sick, uninsured child to a hospital, but if a long hospitalization or surgery is required, that child’s parents will have to either scrape together thousands or dollars (and perhaps eventually lose their home or declare bankruptcy as a result) or hope that the hospital has charity funds available. We can help an immigrant learn English and a marketable skill, but if the law doesn’t offer him a reasonable avenue toward legal work status, we can’t help him get a job that will support a family.  We can provide pregnancy counseling and baby supplies to a young unwed mother, but if that mother is unable to afford groceries, decent housing, quality daycare, and additional education for herself , she and her child will likely end up in unsafe housing, poorly nourished, un- or underemployed, and stuck in a cycle of poverty that isn’t just a problem for that family, but (in God’s economy) for all of us. Without government safety nets such as subsidized housing and daycare, food stamps, education grants, health insurance, and support for immigrants, private charity can only do so much to ease the burden of poverty.

She acknowledges, as do I, that our government is far from perfect. No government is perfect (neither would a more socially conservative one be closer to perfect). But we are better to undertake some effort to level the playing field and reduce poverty where we can than to say that it's just a reality we have to live with. I don't think that's how Jesus saw it when he walked the earth and I don't think that's how he sees it today. Yes, the poor will always be with us, but we don't have to accept that a statement that we can't and shouldn't do anything to improve this.

Finally, my conversation partner last week made an appeal to the right of people to not have their wealth “stolen” from them by the government. This argument struck me as more American than Christian, although he tried to base it on the ten commandments. The underlying issue seems to be whether it is “fair” to surrender part of your hard-earned (or not-so-hard-earned) wealth to care for others. To me this isn't even an issue, because we should gladly do so for the sake of caring for others. But even if one doesn't accept that, one must consider whether “fairness” is a concern for God. As Dollar points out elsewhere in her article:

God is not about fairness. God is about justice. God is about all people being treated with dignity as those made in God's image, about extravagant generosity regardless of merit.... It may be unfair for the wealthy to be taxed at a higher rate than the middle class, but in God's economy, it is just.

Christians may take different views on how we can address poverty, injustice and inequality in our society and globally, but we cannot take an attitude of indifference, reasoning that the poor will always be with us so we might as well just accept that fact. My conscience certainly will not allow me to do so.

God's Politics?

I had hoped to make it through to the election next month without being told how I should vote as a Christian. Alas, such was not to be. Last Sunday I learned that as a Christian I need to stand against the moral disintegration of the United States by: 1) standing for a constructionist view of the U.S Constitution, 2) standing against the accumulation of debt, against increased taxation and against increased government spending and 3) against abortion. I was told that the fate of our nation and, implicitly of our faith, hangs in the balance. In fact it hangs tenuously by the balance of the U.S. Supreme Court, where four current members do not stand for these three issues. With one more nomination by an ungodly president, the balance could shift and we would descend into a tailspin from which we might never recover (that language is mine, not the message I heard, although the sense was certainly there.) Interestingly, I remember hearing such statements as far back as the presidency of Ronald Reagan.

I am troubled not by the fact that my pastor has his own opinion on these issues, whether I concur with them or not. I think there is room for diverse viewpoints on most political issues. However, I am very troubled that he drew a clear connection between taking particular stands on these issues and standing for one's faith. In fact I was flabbergasted to learn that my view of the U.S. Constitution represents a faith issue. I heard on Sunday the distinct statement that to accept the view that the Constitution is a living document and to allow for its interpretation in light of a modern context is sin. Again, I am not arguing for or against this view of the Constitution, but whichever viewpoint you hold (or whether you hold any at all), I hardly think it qualifies as a matter integral to Christian faith. It troubled me very deeply when my pastor quoted from the U.S. Constitution during worship as if this were some holy, sacred document. It is an amazing document that has served this country well throughout its history and, I hope, will continue to do so for many years to come. But whether it is interpreted in one way or another has nothing to do with God's kingdom. God's kingdom will endure and advance whether we interpret the Constitution in a strict constructionist manner or whether we allow for reinterpretation based on current conditions. This may well make a difference in terms of where our country goes, but where our country goes is not a kingdom-of-God issue. God's kingdom does not depend on the United States. God can and will work through this country whatever it looks like. Try not to fall off your chairs at this, but God can work even without the United States.

I believe that my pastor fell into a typical evangelical error on Sunday. He equated a particular cultural viewpoint with a kingdom-of-God viewpoint. According to this perspective, if we fail to vote in a particular way, our country will lose God's favor (do we enjoy some special favor anyway?) and stray off the path of godliness. I'll let you in on a little secret, we've never really been on the path of godliness. Yes, we've done some good, decent things as a nation. We've also done a lot of incredibly sinful, selfish, destructive things that have certainly caused God to weep. I don't know that this is anymore the case now than it was fifty or a hundred years ago.

Along with our “enlightening” message, we received a voter's guide on Sunday. This voter's guide, although declared to be “non-partisan”, comes from an organization that is non-partisan in a strictly legal sense only. A look at the questions they ask candidates and the issues that affirm, including statements made in the guide concerning citizen-initiated propositions, reveals quite clearly what they support and what they oppose. This organization has every right to push their position, but I really resented having this forced on me in Sunday morning worship and even more being told that this was not an effort to influence my vote, but just a desire to help me be a more-informed voter.

The whole worship service left me with the feeling that, in order to fit into God's family, I must adopt a certain set of political views. If I don't, my godliness is apparently in question. There's no room for diversity, no room for discussion or exploration of the complex context of most political issues. The message and the voter's guide were simplistic, dividing issues into black and white without any possible middle ground. It left us with a false dichotomy. We're either for or against, in or out, standing for righteousness or allowing sin to spread.

All this struck me as particularly ironic given that I just finished reading Gregory Boyd's book The Myth of a Christian Nation. This book challenged my thinking about the interaction between faith and politics. Boyd argues clearly and strongly that we as Christians err whenever we put our faith in bringing about God's kingdom through the power of the kingdoms of this world. In fact he calls it idolatry. He points to the history of the church to demonstrate that whenever the church has sought and gained political power, it has done far more of a disservice than a service to the Gospel. Most often is has resulted in the name of Christ being defamed rather than exalted. Boyd doesn't tell his readers to disengage from politics. But he does encourage us to recognize that God's work does not depend on whether a particular politician or set of policies gains power. God doesn't work through power-over structures. God works through service, through sacrifice, through counter-cultural movements that transform hearts from within rather than seeking to impose change through laws and legislation. There are times when laws and legislation are appropriate and useful, but ultimately they do not bring about the kingdom of God.

If we're going to talk about political issues from the pulpit, let's talk about issues of real righteousness, like whether we are fostering justice, peace and love. Let's talk about our own lifestyles of greed that directly and indirectly leave most of the world in dire poverty and destroy God's creation. Let's ask whether our behavior demonstrates the love of God more than a desire to protect our personal interests and our American way of life. I love my country, but the kingdom of God is about so much more than defending any particular view of it. In fact the kingdom of God is about far more than the United States at all.

This has been a lengthy post, but Sunday's message left me very troubled. I debated whether to share my thoughts about it, but in light of the applause that arose from much of the congregation after Sunday's message, I felt I need to speak out and offer an alternative viewpoint. Within the worship community on Sunday there was little place for that, although I appreciate one couple who I respect and appreciate, who came up to me afterwards and asked what I thought and how I was feeling. We had a very healthy and open conversation for several minutes, the kind that we need more of in the church. I know the pastor felt very passionately about what he shared and sees these as really crucial issues, but I think his message presented things as far too black and white and false equated certain viewpoints with the kingdom of God.

This blog is for the October synchroblog on faith and politics. Others writing about this include:

• We the People by Wendy McCaig
• Pulpit Freedom, Public Faith by Carol Kuniholm
• Plumbers and Politicians by Glenn Hager
• Conflating Faith and Politics by Maurice Broaddus
• You Cannot Serve Two Masters by Sonja Andrews
• Would Jesus Vote by Jeremy Myers
• A Kingdom Not of This World by Jareth Caelum
• I am a Christian and I am a Democrat by Liz Dyer
• 5 Ways to Make it Through the Election and Still Keep Your Friends by Kathy Escobar

Speaking - and Listening - in Love

As we head into the heart of the election season, I keep being told to “vote my values.” I wholeheartedly concur with this statement, except that usually those who make it have a clear set of values that I'm supposed to vote according to. What they really should say is “vote our values.” That would be more honest. Because in fact I think most voters vote according to their values. The problem doesn't lie in not voting according to our values. The problem, if we choose to see it as such, lies in our different values. This shouldn't surprise us, given that we live in a pluralistic society that values freedom of opinion and expression.

Even if we try to narrow the message of “vote your values” to “vote your Christian values” we run into difficulties. Despite what we like to think, Christians take different views on many issues and, in most cases, argue that their views are “biblical.” I don't know whether we could even define a list of values that all who call themselves by the name of Christ should vote according to, because ultimately what defines us as followers of Christ is not a set of values that inform our voting, but a set of beliefs about a certain person named Jesus the Messiah. The last time I checked his name wasn't on the election ballot this fall.

A lot of polemic is flying these days over which candidate more fully represents “biblical” values (there's that problematic phrase again). The answer you give will depend on how you define those values. In fact, neither candidate can or should make the claim to be “the” godly candidate (and I don't know that either has, in those words at least.) Their supporters, however, seem quite willing to do this on their behalf. I am tired of hearing that President Obama is ungodly, that he is leading this nation away from God, that he's not a Christian, and on and on it goes. I find it quite interesting that so many who call themselves by the name of Christ have such difficulty acknowledging that our president views himself as a follower of Christ as well. Just because he doesn't line up with a certain list of political viewpoints doesn't mean he's outside of the Kingdom of God. Only God gets to determine that. You may legitimately differ with his policies and politics, but don't tell me that the man is ungodly and anti-Christian.

Having said that, I must say that Mitt Romney also should not be charged with being ungodly. Although I take issue with key theological points of his Mormon faith, ultimately he does not stand or fall before God based on his political views and policies. Neither candidate, no candidate in the election for any position, can stand as “God's candidate” because God doesn't have a candidate running in any electoral contest. He doesn't need to. God will accomplish God's purposes through whichever people we elect. Regardless of the outcome of the election and the resulting impact on our nation, whatever it may be, God will continue to do God's work through God's people.

I have spoken out on several issues I feel strongly about in the last few months. I do not regret that nor disclaim what I have written. But recently, at the encouragement of Caris Adel, I started to read Gregory Boyd's book The Myth of a Christian Nation. I haven't made it far yet, but his first chapter struck me squarely on the forehead. As followers of Jesus Christ we are not called to advance a political agenda. Yes, we can and should engage in the political arena. But we are called far more to represent the Kingdom of God and to do so through acting in love and grace toward one another. When our political rhetoric becomes such that we deride those we disagree with, our we really demonstrating the love of Jesus? I recognize that I have been guilty of this. I see that my voice has often been unnecessarily strident. I acknowledge that I have often spoken more than I have listened. I appreciate the challenge of Danielle's words at From Two to One earlier this week. In reflecting on what she wrote and what I am reading from Gregory Boyd, I want to adopt a different approach in the remaining weeks of the election period. I may still speak out at times, but mostly I want to listen, ask questions and engage in respectful, civil conversation. The result may not be that you persuade me or that I persuade you, but at least we can learn from one another and in the process recognize that we don't always have to agree to live in harmony with one another. Unity does not require unanimity and those who differ from my beliefs and opinions are not inherently my enemies. In the end it's not about who wins this election. Our nation will not go to hell in a handbasket regardless of which candidate wins. This country is more than our political leaders and following Jesus is about far more than getting “our” candidate into office.

Feminism Arises from Faith

Embracing feminism comes as part of an extended journey of spiritual transformation that I began last year and which continues to reshape me. Feminism ties integrally into my faith, because I believe that all humans, men and women alike, are created equally by their Creator. The distinctions that have developed in human history in which men have come to be viewed as superior and women as inferior, men as more intelligent and women less so, men treated as strong protectors and women as weak ones who need defending, all these arise from culture and from the broken nature of this world. They are not inherent in God's good creation. In Christ we see the true nature of the universe restored and one key aspect of that should be that women regain their rightful place as full equals of men. 

Unfortunately many in the Church do not accept this, which grives me deeply. As I grew up in various branches of the Church I never really confronted questions about the roles and nature of men and women. In the vast majority of churches I have attended over the years the default assumption has been that women are subordinate to men. Women were created to “help” men, to submit to their leadership and serve them as they (men) live out their divine calling. The ideal role for women, in the world in which I grew up, was to be a godly wife and mother – end of story.

Only recently have I really begun to awaken to the grievous error – let's call it sin, because that's what it really is – that the Church has perpetuated throughout so much of its history and which much of it continues to perpetuate to this day. In the interest of upholding a particular interpretation of the Bible, but in reality in the interest of maintaining a patriarchal system where men hold all the power and influence, much of the Church has silenced and marginalized women. In doing so we have robbed the Church of the voices and talents and gifts of more than half of its members and we have hindered the realization of God's Kingdom in this world by restricting women from living out their calling and utilizing their God-given talents. Of this we must repent. We men must relinquish our stranglehold on power and influence and allow the women of the Church and the world to flourish as God created them to. I truly believe that our muzzling of women causes God immense pain and sorrow – and therefore should cause us sorrow as well.

A year or more ago I read the phenomenal book Half the Sky by Sheryl Wudunn and Nicholas D. Kristof. I can say that this book planted the key seeds that have grown in me and brought me to embrace feminism as a key element of expressing my faith in God.  They wrote:

We believe that in this century the paramount moral challenge will be the struggle for gender equality in the developing world.

As I wrote earlier this year, I not only affirm this statement but I have come to recognize that this struggle remains a key moral challenge in the developing world as well, and particularly within the American evangelical church. As Carolyn Custis James argues in her book Half the Church, the Church cannot afford to squander the talents and resources of half (more than half really) of its members. 

I now struggle with the application of this conjunction of feminism and faith in my life. Much to my sorrow, the church I most regularly attend holds to a very patriarchal worldview. We don't even allow women to collect the offering, for crying out loud! My wife and I have considered looking for a new church home and may yet come to that point, but for now are choosing to remain and raise our voices in advocacy of the equality of women (and others). Sometimes I feel like a lone coyote calling in the desert, expecting stones to be thrown at any time to silence me. The church should be the most welcoming place on earth, the place where each person feels embraced and cherished and where she or he finds the freedom to develop and express her or his gifts and talents. I hope and long for the day when all churches, including my own, will realize this dream. I may yet reach a point where I feel like I must seek to realize this dream in another community, but I do care for the people I worship with and want them to come to recognize that feminism is not only not incompatible with our faith, but in fact expresses deep truths about that faith. With that in mind I keep writing, talking and raising my voice on behalf of women, while at the same time I seek to listen and learn from the many talented women in and outside the Church. It's a great, humbling learning curve and the more I learn the more I recognize that feminism arises from, expresses and strengthens my faith.

This blog entry is a part of the Feminist Odyssey Blog Carnival, Fourth Edition, hosted by From Two to One. 

A Not-So-Social Parable

I came across this paraphrase yesterday at this site and want to share it with you. I won't add any other comments at this point in time and let the text speak for itself.

The Lazy Paralytic

1. When Jesus returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at his home. 2. So many gathered around that there was no longer room for them, not even in front of the door; and he was speaking the word to them. 3. Then some people came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. 4. And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay. 5. When Jesus saw this he grew angry, "Why did you wreck my roof? Do you have any idea how much that cost to install? Do you know how many tables and chairs I had to make in my carpentry shop to pay for that roof? The reeds alone cost five talents. I had them carted in from Bethany." 6. The disciples had never seen Jesus so angry about his possessions. He continued, "This house is my life." The disciples fell silent. 7. "It's bad enough that you trash my private property, now you want me to heal you?" said Jesus, "And did you not see the stone walls around this house?" "Yes," said the man's friends. "Are these not the stone walls native to the Land of Galilee? 8. "No," Jesus answered. "This is a gated community. How did you get in?" The man's friends grew silent. 9. Then Jesus turned to the paralytic and said, "Besides, can't you take care of your own health problems? I'm sure that you're family can care for you, or maybe the synagogue." 10. "No, Lord," answered the man's friends. "There is no one. His injuries are too severe. To whom else can we go?" 11. "Well, not me," said Jesus. "What would happen if I provided free health care for everyone? That would mean that people would not only get lazy, but they would take advantage of the system. 12. Besides, look at me: I'm healthy. And you know why? Because I worked hard for my money." The paralyzed man then grew sad and he addressed Jesus. "But I did work, Lord," said the paralytic. "But an accident rendered me paralyzed." "Yes," said the man's friends. "He worked very hard." 13. "Well," said Jesus, "That's just part of life, isn't it?" "Then what am I to do, Lord?" said the paralytic. "I don't know. Why don't you sell your mat?" 14. All in the crowd then grew sad. "Actually, you know what you can do?" said Jesus. "You can reimburse me for my roof. Or I'll sue." And all were amazed. 15. "We have never seen anything like this," said the crowd.

Notes from a Middle Place

I recently read Lauren F. Winner's book Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis. The book came recommended by some respected sources and the topic certainly intrigued me, as one who feels himself in something of a mid-faith crisis. Winner's writing style in the book, a sort of personal reflection/memoir sharing of various vignettes from her life as she confronted this mid-faith crisis, caught me off guard. At first I didn't like it, though as I read further and now as I reflect on it the style grows on me. I cannot suggest a style that would have suited the topic better and perhaps her narrative style engaged me in ways that a more detached or distanced prose would not have done. She didn't leave me with a lot of concise phrases I could recite, although a few did stand out, but she did open up to me what life in the middle, as she calls it, looks like.

Although different circumstances led us to this middle place, I felt like I could relate in many ways to Winner. In the introduction she writes:

“Whether you feel a wrenching anguish or simply a kind of distracted listlessness, the middle looks unfamiliar when you get there. The assumptions and habits that sustained you in your faith life in earlier years no longer seem to hold you. A God who was once close seems somehow farther away, maybe in hiding....This book is about the time when the things you thought you knew about the spiritual life turn out not to suffice for the life you are actually living.”

I find myself in a middle place like the one she describes. I have come to question many of the assumptions and habits that have sustained my faith life over the years. I have lost the sense of certainty that I once had about many things. Sometimes I feel I have more doubts and questions than I have answers. Sometimes I'm tempted to leave the whole thing and go seek a different path.

But like Winner, I'm not ready to abandon it all. I'm not ready to give up on this thing called faith. God may often seem distant and hidden, but I still experience moments when God's presence does actually seem real and near. More than any sense of God's presence though, I hold on to this faith because it still strikes me as the best answer I've found. As Winner says elsewhere in the introduction:

“In those same moments of strained belief, of now knowing where or if God is, it has also seemed that the Christian story keeps explaining who and where I am better than any story I know.” (emphasis mine)

Why do I keep going to church when I often feel frustrated and out of place there? Why do I continue to pick up my Bible and read it, even though it often passes across my eyes as so much ink on paper? Why do I still attempt to pray when I feel little motivation to do so? Because of all the answers to the life's deepest questions that I have read about or encountered, the Christian one still makes the most sense and still offers the best explanation of any. Perhaps most importantly of all, the Christian message offers hope, hope for me, hope for the world, hope for the future.

At a conference I recently attended, and often these days in the Sunday morning service, I find myself singing the songs as a prayer, more as a statement of what I want to believe than what I can say with certain conviction that I do believe. Some might say that I have lost my faith. I would disagree. I have not abandoned my faith in Jesus Christ. However, I am rediscovering here in a middle place in my life what this faith means and what it looks like in daily life. I will close today with one final citation from Winner, who captures this thought quite expertly.

“On any given morning, I might not be able to list for you the facts I know about God. But I can tell you what I wish to commit myself to, what I want for the foundation of my life, how I want to see. When I stand with the faithful at Holy Comforter and declare that we believe in one God...I am saying, Let this be my scaffolding. Let this be the place I work, struggle, play, rest. I commit myself to this.”

Not-so-simple Faith

Caris Adel recently wrote a poignant tribute to her grandmother, in which she also considers her faith in comparison to her grandmother's. She speaks of how her grandmother's life was “infused with the daily goodness of God,” and how her grandmother epitomized the words of the old song (which she loved to sing): This is my story, this is my song / Praising my Savior all the day long.


Adel obviously loved and admired her grandmother and the faith that flowed in her life. Yet, she shares, “Now, as an adult, I can't figure out how to infuse my life with that same type of daily song.” I relate to Adel's struggle. Although I did not see the same degree of innate faith in my grandparents (though I loved them dearly), I have seen it in others and wondered why I can't have that same simple faith myself. As much as I wish it would be that way, faith has rarely been a simple thing for me, certainly not in my adult years. I cringe when I hear phrases such as “God said it, I believe it, that settles it” and as much as I want to believe it, I wrestle with the well-known statement: “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life.” Statements like these are so nice and simple and package the complexities of the world into such a convenient bundle. But they don't ring true, certainly not all the time. They don't capture the true complexity of life and faith.


I grew up in the church. I went to Sunday School and participated in a great youth group, which played a significant role in my formation. After high school I attended a Christian liberal arts university, where I began to encounter people from faith backgrounds different from my own. Although I did not grow up in a highly legalistic or fundamentalist environment and in fact had a fair degree of exposure to models of faith outside of my own, I had not really encountered significantly different ideas about the Bible, God and theology. In my sophomore year at university I took an introductory class on the Old Testament and nearly had my faith destroyed by it (remember, this was at a solidly Christian university) because the professor challenged my understanding of what the Bible is, how it was written and therefore how we should approach it. Eventually I recovered an equilibrium in faith but since that time I cannot say that faith has been a simple thing for me. The older I get the more I feel like I have more questions than answers and with the experience that comes with life I find myself less certain about many of the answers I once thought I did have.


Sometimes I envy those who, like Caris Adel's grandmother, can approach life with a simple faith that reflects the oft-quoted phrase “Trust and obey.” I try to trust and obey, but then I look at the world and my life and I begin to ask questions of God. I doubt God's goodness and faithfulness because I see that many do not experience the benefits of these, although when I look at my life with a more balanced eye I realize that I have little cause for personal complaint. I've become more comfortable with my doubts and questions. I'm confident that God can handle them and that they don't preclude me from being part of the Kingdom. But, like Adel, I wonder sometimes if in my struggle to have an authentic faith I am missing out on something, some simple treasure that could be mine if I just lay aside all my doubts and questions and accept God as he has been presented to me by the churches I've been a part of. (I wanted to write “he/she” but then that would not be accepting God as presented to me for most of my life.)


Unfortunately being honest with myself does not allow me to just set aside all the issues I have with the Bible and the questions and doubts I have about God. But maybe, somehow, while still working through those I can find a way to express praise daily, to worship this God whom I do not claim to be fully at peace with, to accept that his or her involvement with this world and with my life is working for good, both for me and the world. I don't see it all the time because it's not fully realized. But I want to walk in faith that it is being realized and will someday be fully so. Faith, at this point in my life, requires holding a lot of things in tension. It means accepting antimonies and paradoxes. It asks me to embrace mystery rather than seek certainty. The Church as a whole, and particularly the branches of it I have most often belonged to, is uncomfortable with this type of faith. It prefers certainty. It likes clear doctrinal statements with definite points. Small surprise then that I often feel out of place in church these days.


I continue to hold on to the hope that someday I may find a place of peace and rest in regard to faith. I'd like to have a faith like that of Adel's grandmother. Maybe someday I'll get there. For now I continue on with my journey.

The Lemon Tree

I recently finished reading a most interesting book entitled The Lemon Tree. Written by Sandy Tolan, The Lemon Tree explores the conflict between Palestine and Israel from the time before the creation of the modern state of Israel by following the stories of two families united by a single house. The house was built by Ahmad Khairi, a Palestinian, in the town then called Al-Ramla, located northwest of Jerusalem. Following the establishment of the state of Israel and the war that followed in 1948, the town came under Jewish control and the house eventually came into the ownership of Moshe Eshkenazi and his wife, recent immigrants from Bulgaria. In the ensuing years, Bashir the son of Ahmad and Dalia the daughter of Moshe would see their lives become intertwined because of this house. They develop a close bond but yet struggle to overcome the huge obstacles that separate them as Israeli and Palestinian. 


I liked this true story and the way the author presents it. By placing us in the context of these two individuals and their families, we can see the Israeli-Palestinian conflict on a very different and much more personal level. This isn't just about two nations and their destinies. It's about real people living real lives in real homes. As he tells the stories of Dalia and Bashir, Tolan fills in larger details about the establishment of modern Israel and the wars between it and its neighbors over the years. But he does so evenly, not favoring one side or the other and always keeping the impact of the events on the lives of our two heros in the forefront. It is a moving story and I highly recommend it, particularly if you are inclined to favor one side or the other. Tolan will help you see that neither group is entirely innocent of the problems that now divide the two and will also demonstrate through the relationship between Dalia and Bashir that solutions remain difficult and elusive.


I come from a faith background that unwaveringly sides with Israel. It sees the Jews as God's chosen people and embraces the idea that the establishment of the modern state of Israel was an act of God, a step toward the fulfillment of prophecies made centuries earlier. For much of my life I unquestioningly accepted and agreed with this perspective and the theology behind it. But over the years I have come not just to question this perspective but to actively reject it. The Jews may still have some status as God's chosen, although I am inclined to believe that the Church universal are the people of God now, but that does not mean that the establishment of Israel in 1948 was an act of God. Reading this book showed me how much it was the act of human beings and how significantly their visions, dreams and weaknesses (on both sides of the divide) played into the events of 1948 and the years since. I do want to state clearly that I am not inherently opposed to the establishment or existence of Israel. In a certain since, I view it as a fait accompli, something that the world must work with as it seeks a way forward, rather than something that can be undone as part of any “solution.” Whether this was the best way to make amends to what befell the Jewish people in WWII could be debated endlessly. Wouldn't it have been more appropriate to give them land in Germany, for example? But that question was never asked and to raise it now would be pointless.


However, accepting the existence of Israel does not require us to unwaveringly take the side of Israel in every conflict that occurs between them and the Arab world. The modern Israeli people, just as their forefathers of old, are fully capable of sin and error and in their efforts to secure their future in the land of Israel, they have far too often behaved in ways that prolong and fuel the conflict and must certainly grieve God Almighty. One of the steps required for any process of reconciliation to occur is for Israel to acknowledge these crimes and to change its ways. But this takes us into a discussion of how one might find a way forward, which we will come to shortly.


I cannot support those in the American Christian community whose support for Israel blinds them to the failures, sins and crimes of Israel. God is the God of the Jews, but he is also the God of the Palestinians and other Arabs. Does God favor the Jews more than those other people? I don't believe so. I believe that God's grace and mercy extend to all without difference, yet by our uncritical support of Israel because of a particular theological interpretation (and perhaps out of enduring guilt from WWII), we hinder these Arab peoples from hearing and receiving the love and grace that God extends to them as well. By our actions and words in support of Israel we say we want all people to hear the Good News, except the Palestinians and those who support them. Those people don't really have a place in God's kingdom.


Can there be a way forward? As Tolan demonstrates in The Lemon Tree, no easy one exists. But I think that the followers of Jesus can offer the only realistic one – the path of forgiveness and repentance, the path of grace and mercy. This requires acknowledging wrongs done to us and by us, followed by seeking and offering forgiveness. It requires a willingness to be wronged. It demands that we see our enemy no longer as an enemy, but as person whose dignity and worth come from God just as much as mine do. I don't know that it is humanly possible to live in such a way, particularly in such a heated situation as that between Palestinians and Israelis. I do believe that we who call ourselves followers of Jesus must speak out in support of these radical notions. We must speak in favor of peace rather than continuing to uncritically and consistently take the side of Israel regardless of her actions.


In a highly polarized world and in this particularly polarized conflict, stories like those told in The Lemon Tree are especially needed. A similar story is told in the movie of the same name, although the book and the movie are about the same people or exact situation. We need to remember that these conflicts involve real people and not reduce them to blocks of people whom we can support or oppose without critical engagement. We need to prayerfully read and watch the news and remind ourselves that God loves the people on both sides equally.

Faith and Freedom

I often dread attending church on the Sunday nearest the 4^th of July, and particularly if the 4^th falls on a Sunday, which this year was fortunately not the case. Too often this Sunday becomes an orgy of religious patriotism, a fusion of God and country in which patriotic songs displace solid hymns and songs of praise to the true Lord and patriotic symbols are splashed across the sanctuary. It can be enough to make my stomach churn. I remember one Sunday some years ago in which I entered the sanctuary and saw the front wall covered in paper printed in miniature US flags. I don't know how I kept myself from turning around and walking out the door.

I am not unpatriotic. Well, I'm probably not as patriotic as many and probably not nearly enough so to satisfy many conservatives. I am not one to say “my country right or wrong,” nor do I believe that we are the greatest country on earth, as if the United States were God's gift to the rest of the world. I really don't think we're THAT special and I chafe at expressions of religious patriotism that imply that we are.

But I do love my country and I am glad that I had the privilege of being born here, growing up here and now have the privilege of living here. There is much I appreciate about being American and my appreciation has only deepened and strengthened through the years I have lived outside of this country. I grow teary-eyed at the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner and there are moments when the sight of Old Glory brings an emotional swell. But my experience living beyond this country's borders has opened my mind to other viewpoints and ways of life. I affirm much of what our culture values, but I don't uncritically embrace American culture nor do I view it as the pinnacle of development. We have much to give thanks for and it is appropriate to do so on this, our national holiday. But we must also as God's children always consciously recognize how far short we fall of realizing the fullness of God's kingdom on earth. As a nation we have done many positive, good things at home and around the world. But we have also sinned grievously against those within our borders and those outside them in pursuit of our own selfish interests – although we often fail to recognize and rarely accept the responsibility for the impact our selfish actions have on others. Unlike what some believe, our most glorious days do not lie in our past, as if we had climbed to some pinnacle of godliness and have sense fallen away. No, we have yet to embody the fullness of the message of the gospel of Jesus. We have failed to demonstrate love to our neighbors and to our enemies. No matter how much we would like to think of ourselves that way, we are not God's special nation, anointed uniquely by God to carry out the divine will on earth.

Today's worship service strayed a bit too much into a display of patriotism for my taste, though not as badly as I have seen and had feared might happen. The choir sang the Battle Hymn of the Republic, which is indeed a rousing song if one can put aside all the background and negative implications carried by it. A soloist performed God Bless America, never one of my favorite songs because most often it seems to be a demand and expectation as much as a plea and petition – as if we deserve God's blessing because we are, after all, God's nation. But the soloist did a nice job and we as the congregation were asked only to listen, not to join in. The sermon avoided any statements of patriotic sentiment, except for one tongue-in-cheek comment about Canada Day because the pastor giving the sermon is actually Canadian and today is, after all, Canada Day.

One song, our closing hymn for the service, actually raised my spirit far more than any of the patriotic songs or other hymns we heard during the morning. We sang the hymn Lift Every Voice and Sing, often referred to as “The Black National Anthem.” I first sang this song more than twenty years ago when I worked in inner-city Philadelphia with Tony Campolo's Evangelical Association for the Promotion of Education. This hymn, along with several other black spirituals, spoke really powerfully to myself and my fellow volunteers as we worked alongside some of the poorest communities in our country, most of them consisting predominantly of black people. Songs such as Lift Every Voice raise the cry of a population that has not enjoyed the full blessings of liberty and freedom that many of us and our ancestors have. It serves as a reminder to all of us how much we still have to attain. As it has done for over a century for those suffering under oppression and injustice, it also offers us strength and hope that come from faith enduring and strengthening through dark days. I'm not ready to lobby for this song to replace the Star-Spangled Banner as our national anthem, but I would love to hear it become a more frequent part of our national repertoire.

If asked, I would not say I am proud to be an American, because I think pride is not the right word. I think pride leads to (or perhaps arises from?) arrogance, and arrogance is never pleasing to God. Unfortunately it seems to be one of the hallmarks of American identity in the world today and one of the chief reasons that many around the world despise us. I think that we as a nation need to adopt a more humble posture, not kindle greater national pride. This does not mean we should not be grateful to be Americans. It does not mean we shouldn't appreciate the benefits and blessings that come with our citizenship. They are a gift. But our true citizenship lies not in this nation, but in a kingdom that does not have physical boundaries on this earth. So as we celebrate our freedom this week, let us continue to give even greater thanks for the freedom we have in Christ and raise our lift our voices and sing on behalf of those who do not yet know freedom.  

Serve Humbly in Love

While reading Galatians 5 recently, I noticed a theme repeated clearly throughout the chapter. In verse 6 we read:


“The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.”


In verse 13 we read:


“Do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love.”


This thought continues into verse 14:


“For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'”


Finally in verse 22 we are introduced to the famous “fruit of the Spirit.” 


“But the fruit of the Spirit is love...”


A friend of mine argues that there is in fact only one fruit: love. All the other attributes or characteristics listed are expressions flowing from that primary quality of love. 


Are you catching the theme here? It seems amazingly clear what God asks of us and what God most highly values. Living in step with the Spirit (to reference verse 25), means living in love.


I'm not saying that doing this is easy. In fact it can be the hardest thing of all to do. When Jesus told us to love our enemies, he wasn't telling us that doing so would come naturally or easily. But it strikes me that of all the attributes and characteristics that should mark followers of Jesus, demonstrating love stands out as the clear forerunner.


Rather than calling for the Ten Commandments to be posted in our courts, schools and who-knows-where-else, we would do better to remind ourselves of the basic command of Jesus repeated here: “love your neighbor as yourself.” As Jesus says, this along with the command to love God with all our hearts, souls and minds, sums up all of the law. We don't need a bunch of regulations to judge one another. We need to look into ourselves and ask God to help us live with greater love.


I can't imagine we couldn't go too wrong by living out the injunction of verse six.


Serve one another humbly in love.


Let that be the hallmark of God's people and I think we'd see a radically different society.

Praying in the Dry Times

I have been thinking about prayer the last few days. I was taught in the churches I grew up in that a mature disciple prays daily as part of a regular time of devotion or “quiet time.” I have, by and large, maintained such a practice through most of my life. Now, as at certain other points in my journey, I find these devotional times to be difficult because I do not find them to bring renewed perspective or deeper insight. Often I feel like I am just going through the motions, and I was also taught that this is not something we want to do as true disciples.


I have been reading Eugene Petersen's book Tell It Slant and in a recent chapter found these thoughts on prayer:


“As we follow in the steps of our praying ancestors, we do not find them stopping off along the way to hold a seminar on prayer, or conducting controlled experiments to demonstrate the efficacy of prayer. They are preparing for the way of the Lord, following 'the Jesus Way.' They don't take time out to pray. Praying is what they are doing as they are preparing, as they are following.” (emphasis mine)


Can a faithful, mature disciple of Jesus maintain a healthy spiritual (and overall) life without setting aside specific time for prayer each day? Previously I would have answered with a theoretical yes but a practical no. Now I'm wondering if that is true. Does spiritual growth require something like a “quiet time” or devotional time? Certainly we are told in the Scriptures to pray without ceasing, which implies something that happens beyond just a specified time during each day. I've also been told that we should follow the example of Jesus, and the Scriptures speak of him taking time away from the intense demands on his life. However, it doesn't tell us whether this was a daily routine or something he did occasionally, as he needed to particularly recharge his spiritual vitality.


I could read books about prayer, maybe even attend a seminar on it. But that would only give me information about prayer. I've read books and heard many a fine message on prayer. But what does one do when prayer feels artificial, or forced? I don't want to be hypocritical and make a fine appearance of prayer devoid of any real substance. I like Petersen's frankness:


“The remarkable thing about prayer is not that so many people pray, but that some of us keep at it. Why do we keep praying when we have so little to show for it? Anyone who has made a practice of prayer knows the feeling, overwhelming sometimes, that prayer is a leaky bucket. You go to the river to get a pail of water and by the time you get home the water is gone, the bucket empty, and all there is left to show for your effort is a damp trail soon to be wiped out by the sun.”


Petersen acknowledges what I all-too-seldom hear in Christian circles: often the only response we get to our prayers is silence. We hear nothing from God and nothing we can do, no change in routine, method, timing, words used or anything else will change that. Petersen reminds us how often in the Psalms we hear expressions of people who are waiting for God to speak, to act, to respond. And many of them didn't get a response. Our cries, our prayers, don't force God to respond to us. I wish that were not the case, but it is and somehow I must deal with that.


Someone once told me, or maybe I read it somewhere, that when you don't feel like praying the thing to do is pray. It seems trite, simplistic even. Maybe there's a core truth in this response. When I don't feel like praying, I should keep at it anyway. I can affirm this in principle, but I do struggle with the practical application. What do I say when I feel like I have nothing to say, when nothing comes to my lips, or when I feel like I cannot adequately express myself? What do I say if I expect only silence in response?


I read a book a few years ago about Mother Teresa (Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light) that revealed, through letters she wrote to others during her life, how rarely she felt the presence and nearness of Jesus. She longed for him, longed to hear from him and to know his love. But for most of her life he remained distant—silent. Nonetheless she pressed on in prayer and in the practical outworking of her faith. Some read this book and were quite disappointed to discover the weakness of this great woman. I read it and found encouragement that if one as great as her could struggle with faith, then my struggle needn't indicate spiritual failure on my part. I must read that book again.


I don't have the answers yet. Perhaps I never will. I'm allowing myself greater latitude in my practice of prayer. I try to talk with God each morning as I begin my day, but some days it doesn't happen. Sometimes I do it sitting in a chair watching the day begin. Sometimes I do it as I walk in our neighborhood. Sometimes it is more scattered, broken thoughts directed god-ward as I juggle several other activities throughout the morning. That seems to fit with Petersen's description which I quoted earlier: Prayer as something I do while I am preparing and following, not some specialized activity or time cut off from the flow of real life. Sometimes I think that I'd like to fast from praying, but I have enough doubt about doing this as a result of the teaching I've received, that I must say I'm afraid to, because I still believe in some part of me that people who don't have regular “quiet times” are obviously not really spiritual people. Yet praying out of fear, duty or obligation doesn't really seem like a great thing either.


In the book I'm reading by Petersen the second half examines Jesus' language in prayer. I'm curious to see what he has to say. Maybe I'll find some helpful insights there. I'd love to hear the practices and experiences of others. Share with me your perspectives on praying. What works for you? Have you experienced times when all you heard was silence? How did you respond to that?