missions

MB and I have some acquaintances from a previous church who are “missionaries.”

And, yes, I hate to say this — and I’m totally hiding from God as I do so — but I call them “missionaries” as opposed to missionaries.

Here’s why:

This couple was sent off from the church with great fanfare and hoopla. They were moving to southeast Asia to start an orphanage, you see, and isn’t that a noble idea and all that. The wife’s family comes from this particular country and she inherited some land in said country. For their orphanage, right?

Howevah …… and here’s where it gets squinky for me and I don’t know why I’m throwing all Christians under the bus lately, but, well, I’m a crankypants.

The squink is this:

They didn’t start an orphanage. They’ve lived in this country for 4 or 5 years now. They’ve had 2 children while living over there. It’s cheapcheapcheap to live in this particular country, but, then again, the church supports them, so it’s even cheaper! Somehow, once they’d been “in country” for a while, the Lord conveniently “changed” their vision. They weren’t supposed to use their land to build an orphanage. No. They used the land to build themselves a HUGE house instead.

Now to be fair, they do take in foster children from this country. At one time, I believe they had as many as 6 kids total living in their home. The husband is an aspiring novelist and works on his books most of the day. I mean, he doesn’t work outside the home in this country. The wife homeschools the kids.

I guess I don’t understand HOW this is missions. I don’t get it.

Plenty of people in the US take in foster children and, yes, they get a small stipend or whatever from the state, but this couple is having their entire lifestyle subsidized by the church. I’ve known people who’ve taken in foster kids here in the US, and in every case, at least one of the parents worked outside the home. My own parents took in a foster child when I was 6 and my foster sister was 16, and at that time, BOTH of my parents worked outside the home. They were earning their own money. Now I’m sure there are people who take in a bunch of foster kids just to get the money from the state, but I don’t imagine the people who do this are calling it “missions” either.

Someone help me. How is this “missions”?

Is there something I’m not seeing?

To me, the idea of missions is an outwardly focused thing. An evangelism thing. Sure, this couple is teaching their kids about Jesus, but so is my sister. So is my brother. So are dear readers Brian and Kathi. So is any Christian family — one assumes — anywhere in the world. And they’re NOT being subsidized. My brother and sister have real world jobs where they earn real world money to support their children. They don’t sit back and receive tithe money from their churches so they can work on their Great American Novel. Or their Great Southeast Asian Novel.

I mean, to be honest, since we’ve witnessed all this going down with this couple (they have a blog we follow), MB and I have seriously discussed going BACK to this whackadoo church and saying we want to be missionaries. Ohpleaseohplease, let us be missionaries. Because it kind of seems like a sweet gig, doesn’t it? Being paid for what the rest of us work for? Church welfare in a beautiful country overseas?

Look, these are tough times. I mean, I’m in school right now to completely change careers. But maybe I can chuck all that, move to a cool country, call myself a “missionary,” and get on the church dole.

Come on, pippa! Let’s be “missionaries” and start our Sudden Yurt commune overseas!

Who’s with me?

si se puede

A while back, a friend who’s on Facebook (uhm, all my friends are on Facebook, apparently) emailed me about some “Christian” page on Facebook that I should join — you know, when I join Facebook. (Hahaha and all that.)

But I was SO annoyed with her description of this page, I created a FAKE Facebook identity just so I could get a gander at the stupid thing. Yup. (And, no, I will not be starting a page. I created a name and that was it.)

So this “Christian” page: It’s called “We CAN find 10,000,000 Christians on Facebook.” Here’s its stated purpose:

The purpose of this group is for Christians to take a stand in their beliefs and be counted. our goal is 10 million. It is a big goal, but I believe it can be done! Thank you for joining and please invite your friends!

Okay. So you go there. You join. And somehow you’re standing up for Jesus? Being counted? (Well, I believe you’re being counted, but maybe not in the way you’re hoping, silly Christians.)

Give me a break. The whole thing strikes me as totally ridiculous. So you find 10,000,000 Christians on Facebook. So what? Who cares? To what end or purpose?? So Christians can stand around and go “YAY! There are 10,000,000 Christians on Facebook!!”?? That’s just retarded. What do the people who’ve joined this page think will happen if they reach that 10M goal? The rapture? The second coming? People around the world saying, “AHHHHH!! There are 10M Christians on Facebook, I am now convinced me that I’d better accept Jesus as my savior immediately!”?? And what will the people who’ve joined this page DO when and if they hit that mark? Send “Christian hearts” to one another’s Facebook page? Have a cyber party with cyber cake in “Cafe World”? (Yes, I do know some things about Facebook.) Seems to me like the moment the page clicks over to 10M will be more anticlimactic than a New Year’s countdown. I mean, at least that involves the entire world. And at least people get kissed.

Come ON. It’s a pointless endeavor. Sorry, Christians, but it bugs me. You’re making me and any other basically sane and intelligent Christians look bad. Please stop. This is what’s becoming so irritating to me. Either the collective Christian IQ is plummeting precipitously or else I’ve just been exposed to a spate of real dummypants lately.

Look. I’m sure there are more than 10,000,000 Christians on Facebook worldwide, so why is this important? Why is this something worth doing? Just listing yourself as a Christian on Facebook makes Jesus all proud and tingly? No. He’s going, “Quit wasting your time with that crap. And leave me out of it, kthx.” IF you asked each Christian who came onto your page to give a dollar to World Vision or Feed the Children or something, THEN you might be doing something worth doing. But you’re basically saying , “Hey, Christians. Come over here and sign Jesus’ yearbook.”

Well, he doesn’t need me to.

So I don’t wanna.

And you can’t make me.

Nyaah.

church: the last 20-minute day

One Sunday, quite a while after our last official Sunday at Maybe Church, we drove up there again, on a whim. I don’t know why, really, other than some vague rewriting impulse on my part.

I sometimes believe I can rewrite unhappy endings in my life.

Maybe we’d go inside. Maybe things would be different. Maybe we’d finally have a conversation. Maybe people would say they were sorry for things that mattered, not things that didn’t.

Maybe the way it all ended wouldn’t stay the way it all ended.

Maybe.

But probably not.

You see, there’s hope and there’s reality and the two are not always synonymous and sometimes you cannot explain why you continue to have hope.

When a situation ends badly, I have a mystifying ability to continue believing that something redemptive will still happen, oh yes it will it will it will. This goes on for longer than it should and longer than I’d ever admit. (Psychologists call this “denial,” Trace.) Basically, I prance about in my own little Happy Hopeyland for a good long while, clinging to the belief that redemption will triumph over pain. That healing will triumph over woundedness. This doesn’t always happen when humans are involved. Actually, I’ve rarely seen it happen when just humans are involved.

Hope in people, I suppose, is never the best idea.

Following vague impulses to rewrite endings is also, let’s face it, never the best idea.

But there’s what you know and what you do and those two are hardly ever synonymous.

So, of course, we drove up to the church.

We pulled into the shady side of the parking lot, all hopped up on caffeine and ambiguity. Once MB turned off the car, however, we froze in our seats and just stared at the entrance.

Uh, what are we doing? Oh, that’s right, we have NO plan. So, yeah, what are we doing, again?

MB does these things for me. Hopes with me for a different outcome. Thumbs his hopeful nose with me in the face of stubborn reality. He frequently sees with great foresight how things will turn out even when I do not see — or, really, will not see — but at times he will lay aside this knowledge, temporarily, and go there with me. Out of solidarity. And love. And the weird thrill of a who-knows-what-will-happen caper.

This, alas, is his life with Tracey.

So, yeah, we had no plan. Just a couple of Sunday morning goobers sitting in a car in a church parking lot, wondering what to do, imagining something might change if we just showed up, as if our mere presence would alter reality. Well, I’m pretty sure just one of us imagined that.

But there we sat like lumps, MB voluntarily entering my personal Happy Hopeyland without so much as a sigh. Turns out, this is what goes down in Happy Hopeyland when you’re a couple of Sunday morning goobers sitting in a car in a church parking lot hoping for a rewrite: Fidgeting. Debating options. Drawing straws for who feels more ridiculous.

We watched the men in the perpetual orange vests with the perpetual orange flags wave people into their pre-ordained parking spots. Still doing that, I see. Predestination at work in the very act of parking. No free will here. If you choose that lot, you are choosing to have your choice made for you. We chose that lot just once and never again. There is plenty of parking available, so this seems to serve some other purpose. The men wave their flags even when no car is approaching, which I find silly. Actually, the whole practice seems vaguely anti-American, anti-freedom to me, but others are clearly fine with it. Slow, as usual, to get on board with the crowd — that’s me.

A car pulled up, perpendicular to ours. After a few moments a man, a woman, and a teenage boy got out and walked past us, still in our car, spinning our mental wheels in Happy Hopeyland. As they passed, the man turned around to look at us. He leaned in to say something to the woman and she turned around too. Finally, the boy pivoted and threw a furrowed look at us. The woman strolled over to the nearest orange-vested man, in her appropriately modest and unflattering skirt, and spoke to him. Then he, too, joined in the sudden alarming fad of looking at us.

MB muttered.

“What is going on?”

“I don’t know.”

As we watched the man and boy walking to the entrance, turning this way and that, trying to look casual while they stared us down, simple curiosity trumped indecision and we were now glued to our seats for a whole new reason. Apparently, we’d been spotted as oh, no! people sitting in the parking lot, ohnoohnoohnooo!!

Several moments passed while we debated what to do now, after seeing that. We suddenly felt like trespassers. It was 20 minutes into the service. People were still arriving, milling about, not going inside. This church, I’d observed before, does not arrive when church actually starts. They really should hold the service in the parking lot or the lobby, where most people seem to be.

While we talked, an orange-vested man, the one previously alerted to our presence, approached our car. Hm. Here we go. I guess he really had been alerted.

He went around to MB’s side, where window was down, leaned in and peered down at us, like a cop. An unsmiling cop. I actually fought a reflex to grab the registration from the glovebox.

“Can I help you?”

“No, not really,” said MB.

“Are you just looking for a shady place to park?”

“No. We’re debating whether or not to go in.”

Well, not quite. We definitely weren’t going in now. I think Oprah got a friendlier greeting on that Mormon compound a few years ago.

“Oh.” He looked us over.

Uhm, do they give tickets here? I wondered.

“Well, let me know if I can help you,” he said, in a dismissive tone.

He seemed like a salesperson who will greet you but then sigh mightily if he actually has to help you. Or a cop.

“Uh-huh,” said MB.

The man walked away. We sat open-mouthed at the weirdness, the paranoia. Once all the orange vests had disappeared, we raced home on wheels of creepiness, and wondered aloud:

Is this how they welcome people now? Coming over to a car and questioning them? If we weren’t supposed to park there, why not just tell us? He said nothing about it, so it clearly wasn’t that.

It was either: We were unfamiliar and just sitting there and that totally freaked them out or we were familiar and just sitting there and that totally freaked them out.

Either way, calm down, peaches.

So did they know who we were? That bosomy tart with the slanderous anonymous blog and her crankypants letter-writing husband? That would surprise me a bit on one hand because we didn’t know anyone while we were there, really, and we didn’t recognize any of these people, either, but it wouldn’t surprise me a bit on the other hand because there are no personal boundaries whatsoever at this church and everyone seems to know about everyone else’s business which is somehow, amazingly, NOT labeled as gossip, but this blog — with its tale of our anxious foray into an unnamed church — IS. Literally, I don’t understand anything anymore.

So if they knew who we were — again, creepy — are we officially unwelcome at this church now?

Who knows?

It was bizarre.

All I know is that the smell of paranoia is completely incompatible with Happy Hopeyland.

sad news

One of my favorite spiritual bloggers, Michael Spencer aka The Internet Monk, is terminally ill with brain cancer. He was just diagnosed in December and now it’s just a matter of time. He’s discontinued chemo, which wasn’t helping anyway, and is seeking hospice help.

I’m just numb. So sad. I’m feeling a bit adrift, thinking he’s leaving us.

I’ve read him regularly over the years and he is real and smart and funny and challenging. He isn’t some rigid legalist — he’s too free. He isn’t some nutso Charismatic — he’s too solid. He isn’t some blind follower — he’s too smart. He’s never been bound by how MEN think the Christian life should be lived but focused on Jesus, on truth, and has helped me — oh, how much he helped me and will never know! — to do the same.

I’m missing his “voice” already.

Prayers for him and his family.

a sampling of the mindset #2

More from Dude.

This is after MB and others gave him a polite and much-needed smackdown for the comment referenced in the post below and he’s having a change-ish of heart. He’s directing this at MB, after MB explained to him that “dumb” could mean “stupid” or “mute.” (Italics mine.):

As I was telling (another commenter), I was meaning dumb sheep as in their intelligence.  I once heard that they would follow each other off of a cliff and die just because they were following the one in front of them.  (Okay. This is an apt analogy of a FOCer. I’m with you.) I didn’t mean stupid or mute.  (Oh. Just suicidal then. I see.) I guess you interpreted my tone in a way I didn’t intend to be interpreted.  That’s always been the problem with written text; tone and influx of voice for emphasis doesn’t exist.  Even primitive written languages have that.  It stinks.  Did we ever meet?  I don’t remember a lot of last names.  (Yes, because, naturally, MB was using his real name. See how it works? Of course, everyone uses their REAL NAMES on the Internets! Sheesh. Jesus himself would use a screen name just so wouldn’t bug him, Dude.) Did I ever sin against you at the SD church?  If I did, please forgive me.

Brothers and Sisters, I never intended this to go this way.  I was hoping for some good iron sharpening iron.  I came across in a rude, boasting, arrogant way.  Please forgive me.  As for my questions and comments, that aren’t offensive, please help me?  Thank you so much!

So, okay. A teensie change.

But, then, Dude weighed in randomly, off-topic, just a month later:

When will you all come around? (FOC) ROCKS!! You have read and laughed at my story (eh???) but you know that I am in seminary and lead worship at FOC SD Church. I pastored in Calvary Chapel before. I’m young but I’ve been around. Get over your bitter selves and be reconciled with your brothers and sisters in the churches you left. I know you would be received with love and open arms! Let me say it again (FOC) ROCKS. We have planted 3 new churches in California and Arizona in just a year! Come back!!

I’m still unclear, Dude, and I wish you would just answer the question: Are you or are you NOT in leadership?

Strange how his earlier apology — a month before — seemed to have worn off, like Novacaine. I get it, Dude. Saying you’re sorry can feel like a root canal.

My response to Dude:

You know, I’m happy FOC is so great for (Dude), but honestly, coming in here and speaking that way is like trying to sell the awesomeness of peanuts to a roomful of people with deadly peanut allergies. Look, we tried peanuts and they nearly killed us. You peanut lovers, eat away, but you need to be OKAY with those of us who choose not to partake because it proved detrimental to our health.

(Dude), let’s imagine a scenario for a minute. Let’s imagine, oh, your best friend’s wife cheated on him and he found out. Let’s imagine he’s utterly devastated. Let’s imagine HE — the injured party — tries and tries to work it out with her, all to no avail. Then let’s imagine because of his pain, because of his wife’s unrepentance and unwillingness to work it out, he feels he must leave his wife. Would you, in the face of your friend’s horrible grief and betrayal, dare to say to him, “But SHE ROCKS! SHE IS AN AWESOME WIFE!! When are you going to come around to that? Just get over your bitter self and go back! She will welcome you with open arms!!”

(She won’t admit anything wrong or she’ll throw it back on you ….. but “GO BACK! SHE IS AWESOME!!!”)

That’s essentially what you’re doing to those of us here who’ve been really hurt or abused or wronged or betrayed by FOC. It’s not a perfect analogy, I know. You’re that guy callously demanding that your broken friend go back to the unrepentant spouse. You’re that guy expecting your human hurting friend to just GET OVER — on your timeline — some massive spiritual and emotional damage.

Processing things of this nature takes TIME, (Dude). I am not Jesus. I am human. I need the GRACE of time. I need the GRACE to have a human reaction. Do I need to forgive? Yes. Forgiving can hard enough when someone asks us for forgiveness, but when it’s not asked for, not even sought, that doubles my load of forgiveness. I must forgive what was done and THEN forgive that there’s total unrepentance about what was done. Can you understand that, (Dude)?

I truly hope you’re never injured by a church in a similar way. I also hope no one whose “soul you end up shepherding” is ever hurt BY you — not until you learn, really learn, to develop the compassionate heart of Jesus. I don’t know if they teach that in seminary. You may have to ask the Holy Spirit to give you some. And, in my experience, whenever I’ve asked the Holy Spirit for more of this quality or that quality — it’s funny. He puts me in situations where I need to exercise that quality but can only do so with HIS help. Maybe you’re continuing to read here because the Lord wants you to learn compassion for his hurting sheep FOR YOUR SAKE. For the sake of your future as a pastor. Maybe God’s intent for your readership here isn’t to chastise the hurting. Maybe it’s something that has more to do with compassion. Just a thought.

You chastising me and others about how we need to COME BACK and GET OVER OURSELVES is not likely to produce that outcome. It’s like you’re some cheerleader at a wake. It’s just not appropriate.

I admit — I’m taking your attitude quite personally because I went to YOUR church. I know exactly who you are. I’m glad you like your church. I’m glad that’s true for you. But your church hurt me. And that is true for ME. Accept that. You ARE representing your church, whether you like it or not. You’re in leadership, as you’ve repeatedly stated.

And I don’t think your tone and insensitivity represent your church very well.

Dude, Dude, Dude.

I had a flicker of hope for you with your change-ish of heart, but then — poof! — it died.

a sampling of the mindset #1

There are two blogs out there sounding the alarms about the “family of churches” MB and I recently attended. I’ve mentioned them obliquely before, not outright, because I’m still weirdly paranoid about things. Not as much as months ago, but, strange, it’s still there. Fading, but there.

(I think I’m now going to simply refer to Maybe Church as FOC — “family of churches” — because then, oh THEN, I can refer to its members as FOCers, which makes me feel lightheaded and giddy and naughty, like I’ve just made out in the backseat for a really long time. I have no preferred pronunciation here, pippa, because no matter how you choose to pronounce it — folkers or fockers — it gives me JOY INAPPROPRIATE AND IMMEASURABLE. I mean, Christians just love to be “folks” and talk about “folks.” I cannot say whether they love to be “focks” but, well, sometimes it just happens.)

Uh, where was I?

Recently, on both of these blogs, a dude (let’s call him Dude) who attends “our” very own FOC church, blessed everybody by inserting himself into the conversations. He used his full name because if you’re a FOCer you should do no less for the sake of honesty. You do not want to be guilty of slander, which — let’s review — is what anonymous blogging (or anonymous blog commenting) IS. Oh, and let’s also review this: The bigger your anonymous boobs, the bigger your anonymous slander because then you’re an automatic tramp and therefore an automatic slanderer. Dude doesn’t have those woes, lucky duck, although I did get a gander of several men sporting large pancaking manboobs at FOC church. I know exactly who Dude is, and while he doesn’t have large pancaking manboobs, he does have a disturbingly hip-forward gait for a hetero dude. Eh, maybe some women like that. Whatever.

Now these blogs, in addition to sounding the warning bell about FOC, also serve as a kind of hospital, binding up the wounded, offering solace to the hurting and confused. The pain in some people’s posts just leaps off the page. It vibrates in the very air when you read their comments and I sometimes find myself feeling helpless that I can’t do more to help them. If you read long enough, you get a sense for context and stories and for who people are and I think that’s important to do on ANY blog before you comment. Get a feel for the vibe, the people, the tone. You’ll be a better commenter. Dude, however, simply barged into ongoing conversations about something else altogether to make his virtually incomprehensible pro-FOC rants.

I’m posting one of his first comments here, edited a bit for names, for his name, etc., but not edited at ALL for grammar, spelling, or, well, SENSE. I want to give you a feel for the mindset of a random FOCer.

(Anything in parentheses and italicized like this is my intervention.)

Here we go ….

Hey brothers and sisters,


PLEASE READ THIS


I would love to here in one sentence (because we all have long winded breaths! ha!) one thing that FOC does that is unbiblical.  It seems that bashing a person that the Father calls “son” or “daughter” would anger him.  So, let’s think of the truth being outside of us, and then work to get to that truth together, holding hands, not b-o-m-b-s…

I have just four comments to make here.  I am a member of FOC SD and a current student at (Yodellyho Seminary) California.  I am a former pastor of a non denominational church (founder) from Temecula, Ca.  It was the fastest growing congregation in America at one point (3 to 524 in 4 and 1/2 months).  I say that pridefully so that you respect me and will eventually bow down and laugh at every joke I make.

Comment 1: What attracted me to FOC, specifically in SD, was the gospel being placed at the center.  This was the intent of (former pastor) and (current pastor).  It isn’t about how much I read the Bible, how much I pray, whether or not that I tithe, or what gifts that I could finally shine with (I was a former pastor and worship-leader).  When I first lead worship for a small group there, (one of FOC SD pastors) asked me afterwards, “well…since, you didn’t ask for critique, let me give you some.”  It angered me for almost a year that every time that I led worship he did that.  I even convinced my wife that he was a crazy control freak and shouldn’t be a pastor, and that maybe we should leave.  In the end, I realized that he was doing these things to actual serve me.  He saw sin in me and sought me out to care for my soul.  The sin lied within me of wanting to be noticed (HELLO, I was a pastor and worship-leader of one of the fastest growing church bodies before, and it had been two years before they asked me to do anything!).  I, the dumb sheep, didn’t get what my earthly shepherd was doing.


Comment 2: FOC has all kinds of problems.  So does the OPC, PCA, Calvary Chapel, URC, Rome, WillowCreek, John Piper, etc. ad nauseam.  This doesn’t mean that I would leave.  What other good church could I find?  Does anyone know of a good church?  I would love to see one.  Then I could finally be in heaven.


Comment 3: Since, probably, no one here is trained in the Bible (I don’t mean the Pastor’s College because it is pastoral, not intense biblical training), nor called to pastor a church, but called to be a dumb sheep of God, think of Peter, our great example of the perfect pastor, and then rethink your position.


Comment 4: Lastly, we get mad when people make Christianity about what the Christian does and not what the Savior did.  Why aren’t we applying the same to FOC? (FOC Pope) or (some FOC leader, I dunno), or (FOC SD pastor), et. al. are not FOC, their message is.  Do you agree with the gospel?  Then these people are your brothers no matter how bad they gave you a wedgie, chewed you out, didn’t listen to your concerns, or didn’t care about the gifts that God has given you.  That sounds like an earthly brother or sister to me.  They will get this all wrong themselves, but their message won’t change.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this.  I will probably judge you, pray that God give you boils under your armpits, laugh at you, and post your comments of (foc4life.com)I don’t know if that exists, haha; I will actually check right now…nope, doesn’t exist.

P.S. I know how you feel though.  I came from a Calvary Chapel background and had to deal with a lot of issues that people from FOC helped me with.  I get it.  What’s weird is that we love each other because of some dude that died on a piece of wood 1970 some odd years ago.

So, love you all!

Above all, may God bless us with the remembrance of what His Son has done by the power of the Holy Spirit for His Own glory,


Dude Duder

You know HELLO I’m not clear on something: Could you please clarify whether you are or are NOT a former pastor and worship leader? You’re pretty vague on this point, Dude, and most people naturally need to know the contents of your entire CV and be repeatedly reminded thereof before they can form an opinion about you or anything you say. Please be more forthcoming. And then please be forthcoming again, so I can know what to think of you and myself in comparison to you. Thank you so much, Dude.

Uhm, thoughts on this, anyone?

I have more from Dude, but I want to hear what you guys think of him and his comment.

conformity

Below is a really interesting video I found linked in the comments of a blog I read regularly now — about a certain “family of churches” and its corruption and abuses and subtle use of group think to produce compliance.

Conformity is huge within this “family of churches.” My personal experience was that one person was much like another. Apart from physical differences — and even with that, there was conformity in clothing — one person’s personality and conversation was much like the next. They spouted what sounded like sales pitches. The words may have differed, but the attitudes were identical. Even in our first weeks there, I could sense ….. something. The tip of an iceberg of rigidity under all the smooth pleasant surfaces. I’m still reeling a bit from how bizarre the whole thing was and I’m still surprised and a little embarrassed at how much the ordeal with Outing Person has hurt me.

I knew Outing Person years ago, as I’ve said, and it pains me — literally pains me — to see that his personality seems to have done a complete 180, from the joyful, alive, warm person I once knew to the dour, listless, cold man he seems to be today. How has he changed so much in front of his loved ones without comment from them? Unless they, too, are changing simultaneously? If My Beloved had done a complete 180 in his behavior and personality I would say something, for God’s sake, unless I’d somehow lost the ability to notice. Does Outing Person’s family say nothing because they’re also changing, because they’ve also lost discernment? If I can see it, why can’t they? The implications here are actually terrifying to me.

From what I’ve learned of this “family of churches” over the last several months, I can’t help but lay some — probably most — of the blame for his transformation at its feet. He has conformed to the group. Says the same things others say. Forfeited his personality in order to be “obedient” to man-made rules. His individuality, which once shone so brightly, has been assimilated into the Borg of this church. In my brief and bizarre interactions with him at Maybe Church — and my heart is sick to say this — I saw a man in bondage to rules and legalism. He was once SO free. SO loving. It was all I could do not to shake him or smack him and cry, “What’s happened? What’s HAPPENED TO YOU??” Literally, pippa, I grieve over this. Grieve. Over the months since then, I have found myself randomly weeping over the alteration in this man. I’m not talking about the physical changes that people go through as they get older. Who cares about that? It’s not substantive. I’m talking about the fact that his personality and his demeanor were completely unrecognizable, completely OTHER to me. I actually found it frightening.

I’ll tell you my theory: The Antichrist? That whole thing? It will start with the church itself smoothing the way for that, sloooowy morphing truth into truthiness until the people in the pews end up believing something entirely different from what they started with. It’s happening even now, within this organization, but it’s so subtle, SO subtle, that unless you stubbornly and obnoxiously cling to your independent thinking skills — your GOD-GIVEN ability to reason and analyze — you will succumb.

The man I knew years ago would not have succumbed.

So, yes, it grieves me. I weep over it. I wish I didn’t, but I do.

And it starts with conformity, with the subtle pressure of group think.

Watch this video on an experiment in conformity and see what I mean.

trainwreck

There’s a blog out there that I cannot look away from and I really need to. It’s basically a trainwreck and the trainwreck of it all is like crack to me. I keep whipping my head back and forth to get one last look — which, let’s face it, doesn’t exactly make me the poster child for mental health. I’m not going to put a direct link here — because I’m a coward, duh — but I’ll give you the URL like this: newine(dot)wordpress(dot)com.

The blogger is a Bostonian and a Christian who calls himself ultraguy. He seems smart, yet simultaneously insane because he is all about how everything that’s happening now proves we are in the end times. You know, frankly, I’m tired, and I would be okay if these ARE the end times, but when someone constantly barrages their readers with suppositions and never comes to any logical conclusions, it’s exhausting and incomprehensible and a gyp. Now I’m pretty sure the end times are gonna be a gyp for many people in many ways, but if you’re going to write about them, come to some damn conclusions, so I can either agree or disagree. Basically, he’s an apocalypse tease and I am very frustrated. I’m like a guy here. Don’t get me all worked up fer nothin’, okay?

I need release.

I don’t know WHY I’m reading. Maybe I’m looking for something that finally strikes me and makes me say, “Yes! End times! I’m outta here!” Because, again, I’m tired. And lazy.

Why I am relying on ultraguy for this definitive proof, I do not know. I have issues. Issues far beyond the tired and the lazy.

The other day he had a post that drew parallels — follow me if you can — between the location of some boulder that commemorates Jonathan Edwards’ sermon “Sinner in the Hands of an Angry God” and the locations of both the Haitian and Chilean earthquakes. There was an official-looking map involved, with a red line running south from this stone in CT through Haiti to Chile. That was basically it. “Follow the line of sinners” I think is the thought here. Although, again, I never know. I’m never sure with ultraguy.

It’s all ultra something, that’s for sure.

So you draw a red line from CT through Haiti to Chile.

Uhm, so?

So?

SO FREAKIN’ WHAT????

This is what it’s like to read this stuff. Every day it’s some byzantine post that meanders around but never arrives anywhere. (So much for faith being something even a little child can grasp.) It’s always, “Hey! This might be something!” It frustrates me. It makes me angry because it’s cheap and easy to throw out dangerous (and stupid) suppositions when you don’t have to prove them or even logically support them. If the only goal is to work people into a froth, you don’t NEED to be reasonable.

I don’t know why I’m going off on this (ultra)guy. I guess because I think it’s irresponsible — getting susceptible readers to chase their tails and obsess about whether this means it’s the end times or that means it’s the end times. If every thought in your head or everything that happens to you points to the end times, how do you sleep at night?

It’s crazy. Doing that will make you crazy. During the time I’ve read this blog, he’s progressively made less and less sense. I think that’s what obsessing about the unknowable will do to a person: make you nutso.

Obsess about it if you must, but obsess in private. Don’t drag others down with you. Like your formerly sane fellow Christians.

That’s where I have the problem.

Go crazy-ass insane on your own time.

leave tiger woods alone

So Tiger Woods has apologized to the entire world, apparently, for cheating on his wife and now people are parsing his apology, debating its merits, judging its sincerity.

And, you know, I hate this kind of stuff. I really do.

I’ve talked about this before, with Christian Bale’s big meltdown on the set of Terminator a while back and I still feel exactly the same way. I will never NOT feel this way.

It boils down to this: Public figures do not owe public apologies for private wrongs.

Christian Bale owed private apologies to the people directly involved or affected by his profanity-laced tirade.

And Tiger Woods owes private apologies to the people directly involved or affected by his adulteries.

That’s it. That’s it.

To rake him over the coals, to judge the merits or sincerity or even body language of his unnecessary public apology, to continue to behave as if this public figure owes you something personally is equal parts arrogance and naivete. He owes you nothing. This is a huge pet peeve of mine — people who boo-hoo-hoo about how disappointed they are when their sports “hero” or their celebrity “hero” does something wrong that in no way involves them personally.

If you’re someone who feels that Tiger Woods let you down — personally — you’re granting him too much power in your life and too little humanity in his. Stop expecting celebrities and athletes to be your role models for model behavior. That’s just ridiculous and unfair to the celebrity. They’re human. They’re going to screw up and hurt people and lie and swear and do drugs and cheat. Uhm, pretty much like the rest of us. So find role models elsewhere and learn how to separate what an athlete or actor DOES for a living from who they ARE in their personal life. Because they’re great on the screen or on the field or in the pool doesn’t mean they’re a person of great character. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’re not, either, but the problem comes from expecting heroic personal behavior from someone who is your sports “hero” or your acting “hero.” Stellar achievement doesn’t automatically equal stellar character. This seems a total no-brainer to me. Allow yourself to admire them simply for what they DO and allow them the freedom to be who they ARE, warts and all. Why imprison them in your unrealistic expectations? They don’t OWE you perfect behavior or, really, even decent behavior. I’m not sure they OWE you anything. Admire Bale’s performances or not. Admire Tiger’s game or not. Don’t expect superhuman behavior from them if you don’t expect it from yourself.

Let them do what they do and be who they are. They extend the same courtesy to you, don’t they? Just because they’re public figures doesn’t change the basic mess of their humanity. Just like toiling in obscurity doesn’t change ours.

Final thought: Christians? Don’t expect public figures who don’t embrace your beliefs to live according to your beliefs, okay? Shaking your head and wagging your finger at people who have failed to live up to standards they themselves don’t hold — well, it doesn’t help the cause. Or if you choose to do that, don’t scratch your head in bewilderment next time you hear Christians labeled as judgmental. As Christians, would you reject sharia law being imposed on you? I sure would. Well, don’t impose your Christian sharia on nonbelievers. You honestly don’t look any better when you do.

This just in: I am a crankypants.

more of tracey’s church notes

Oh, hurrah! I discovered more notes from our time at Maybe but really Not On Your Life Church.

These are just my notes. MB doesn’t weigh in, which is a real shame. So the pastor’s preaching and I’m talking to myself in this notebook like a weirdo.

I really would NOT have fit in at this cult …. er, church. I mean, I’m a weirdo, but not their kind of weirdo. My brain is just not washable enough.

So here I go, dissecting the church AT church. Probably our second week there.

~ Nearly every man here is wearing a short-sleeved shirt, either a polo or a light cotton, all in pale pale almost non-colors. They don’t tuck them in so their bellies are covered. Ugh. It almost seems like a uniform here. Pale ghosts of people.

~ The sleeves on those cotton things stick out at the elbows like little pup tents. Ick. Come worship the Lord! Sartorial castration — no extra charge! It’s a room full of Homers.

~ If they were all naked, they’d look better.

~ I should rethink that.

~ Basically, they all look kind of pasty and weak in their Easter-egg clothes. I’ve never been more turned off in a room full of men.

~ Oh, the words between the songs at worship: “I believe there are people today struggling with guilt about not getting things done.” Hm. Really, Peaches? Pretty safe bet, isn’t it? Holy Spirit not really swinging out in omniscience with THAT one, is he? Why bother? So you can get up and look godly with a no-brainer? Boo-bye.

~ Every song is a dirge. Am I dead?

~ Ugh, P-Geist! He’s praying and he CANNOT just say “Amen.” He is literally droning, “in the name of the glorious, beautiful, powerful, amazing Father …. Amen.” No need to butter up the Almighty, Crackie. God’s not impressed.

~ TOO MUCH TALKING!! (ed.: Sorry. I was clearly losing it.)

~ The pastor is asking, “What’s the background noise of my heart?” Uh …… Guns ‘n’ Roses?

~ I really don’t see myself hanging out with these people.

~ Also, don’t come up and introduce yourself and let ME hold up the entire conversation.

~ Why does everyone want to know how we found out about the church?? EVERYONE has asked us. WHO CARES?? We’re here. Is this a marketing thing?

~ Why do they all talk about John Piper? “Do you know John Piper?” “Have you read John Piper?” They seem very worshipful about … John Piper! John Piper!! JOHN PIPER!! Calm down, Homers. And roll your sleeves.

~ He’s now talking about joy in a room full of the glummest people I’ve ever seen.

~ “Dripping with mirth.” Oh, I BEG you to please stop saying that.

(Seems I had issues from the get-go, doesn’t it? Well, you could call it issues or, uh, critical thinking skills. Let’s go with the second one, shall we?)