This year was the first year in my entire life that I actually seriously considered doing Lent. Then it sort of snuck up on me in the midst of other things and I missed it. Since we don’t go to a church that advocates it (in fact, since we’re not really connected to “our” church at all) it’s hard to feel motivated to celebrate much of anything Christian in the way of holidays. It only accentuates that which I know to be true so deeply: without the body of Christ, my faith (and by my faith, I mean my religion) is only halfway complete. My starvation began a while ago just for true connection with other believers, fellowship, per say, and has grown into more. The coming and going of the Easter season has forced me into a contemplative mood of wishing I had a church to celebrate with. Even more - wishing I had a church that treated it as more than a one day event in the life of a Christian. Let me start at the beginning.

When I think of Easter and my childhood it conjures up memories of Easter baskets with chocolate bunnies, coloring hardboiled eggs, going out to buy a new Easter dress for Easter Sunday with my mother, singing Easter hymns, visiting grandma and company with ham and sweet potatoes, and getting palm branches the Sunday before. I’m sure that many can relate. Though I grew up in a Christian home, never in all my existence did anyone ever suggest to me that I might want to participate in Lent. That was that “Catholic” thing. Never did anyone ever suggest to me that the time leading up to Easter could be used as a prolonged period of worship in the church body and a time to meditate and grow closer to God myself in a different way. Never did anyone ever suggest to me that Easter might be about Christians worshiping Jesus, not evangelism.

We were alone this Easter, for the first time in our lives. We have always been with family, but this year it just didn’t work out. So we went to church. Like we’re supposed to. Like we do (most) every Sunday. I didn’t buy an Easter dress. I didn’t color Easter eggs. No chocolate. We had tacos for lunch, and ordered pizza for dinner.

My church was packed. My church is normally big, but yesterday my church had overflow seating set up, where the service was broadcast. A nice old lady greeted me with an extra big kindly smile at the door and instructed me to take a plastic cross with “He is Risen 2007!” scrawled in silver writing on it. A nice old man shook my hand ferociously with a big extra happy smile, boomed, “Happy Easter!” Understand, “my” church is far too big for anyone to know if I’m a visitor or regular attender or not. Another nice, younger lady greeted me at the sanctuary door and handed me a bulliten. Same routine. I’ve never had anyone be quite this vivaciously cheerful towards me at “my” church before.

We found our seats, and loud, contemporary, rocky music was playing. When the time ticked down, the worship leader, extra perky I felt, bounded onto stage and welcomed all of us there. We then opened with a french horn and trumpet Eastern hymn medley. We then sang some Easter hymns. I looked around. Normally we don’t sing hymns. That’s okay. I don’t mind hymns. I noticed lots more grey hairs than normal. In nice pretty Easter dresses. Then suddenly, as if we were now done placating those grey hairs who showed up just for today, we decided to say, “Now, this is what we really are!” And the music started rocking. The music was particularly loud yesterday. Contemporary “Jesus lives” praise songs bounced off the walls. I eyed the young couple standing next to me. They didn’t seem impressed. I eyed the grey haired couple in front of us. They definitely didn’t seem impressed. Hmm. They brought out a choir to sing to one of the songs, and they stayed throughout. I got all excited for a second! I thought they were gonna start dancing! At least something exciting would happen. But then I was deflated. Got a little bounce going, but just couldn’t quite get the shoulder action……Then the message. Not much to say there.

Last week was Palm Sunday. I gotta give them credit. They really tried. They did two monologue dramas, one of which was part of communion. They changed things around. Did the sermon in two parts. Stuff like that. I even felt that they were really trying to lead people in an attitude of worship. Trying to get them to contemplate Christ’s sacrifice in new way. I was even moved. This week was Easter Sunday. It was obvious what they did this week. The crowds are coming, let’s show them how cool they are. It smacked of insincerity and ingenuiness. Call me cynical, but after that service, my memories of Easter Sunday came flooding back to me in a whole new way.

Easter Sunday. The day when the heathen come flooding into church for their one day a year church spot. Unless they hit Christmas too. We’ve got them eating out of the palm of our hands, they’ve come to us, let’s get them NOW! And it turns into an evangelistic outreach, instead of a day for Christians to worship Jesus Christ, our Savior, the culmination of a great reflective, yet celebratory period of time in the Christian faith. That’s ’cause for a lot of denominations, it’s not a culmination of anything, just like I remember growing up. Heaven forbid that we evangelize by living our lives out around those same people throughout the rest of the year. Let’s just wait till they come Easter Sunday. Heaven forbid that if they should come Easter Sunday, they should see the church being the church, worshiping in spirit and in truth, instead of putting on a fake show for them so they see how “cool” we are. Even if we don’t give an altar call, if they came to our church this Sunday, they’ll be sure to know that we’re not the boring old stodgy churches down the street, no we rock Christianity! (And we can throw some hymns in for you old people too…)

I may be judging “my” church too harshly. I don’t want to judge the hearts of the people who put together the Easter Sunday worship service. I don’t want to suggest that they tried to be insincere, or that everyone even perceived it that way. Part of it is my own cynicism and my generational longings coming out for something different. But I do know that I’ve never actually been to a church that didn’t try to somehow turn Easter Sunday into an evangelistic thing (even if there was no “altar call” per say) because they knew a ton of people would be coming. I don’t know if that’s what “my” church was trying to do, because I’m no where near the leadership team, but that’s what it felt like compared to their normal services, especially compared to what they did last week.

Don’t change what you do because people might be watching. Do we want people to watch? Of course. But we want them to watch and like what they see. If you’re changing, are you afraid they won’t? Is not the message of the cross more powerful than a few loud songs? What message does that send?

Calvin and I just watched (courtesy of a link on this blog) an episode of some show called “30 Days” (never heard of it before today). In this particular episode, they had a typical, white middle-class male, of the Christian persuasion, spend 30 days with a family of Muslims in a predominantly Muslim community. He followed them to the mosque, discussed stuff with them, had a Muslim teacher to help learn about Islam, etc. etc. Well anyways, aside from being an interesting and thought-provoking watch, I came away thinking several things.

The first thought that came to my mind, of course, was that why is it that every major world religion expects its followers to learn the language of its Scriptures and/or heritage except Christianity? Okay, maybe not every major religion, I really don’t know that, but I know at least orthodox Jews and Muslims do. Yet for Christians, not only is it not expected, it’s considered almost strange. Most people I’ve talked to seem to think that they don’t even have the capability to learn Hebrew and Greek, and they think it’s odd that I want to learn. Yet millions of people of other faiths around the world learn and incorporate heavily their “holy languages,” so to speak, into their everyday faith and corporate worship. I’m not saying we need to make it a requirement or something, but why is it so uncommon? Why is it viewed as so odd? Why can only the scholars, intellectuals, and a few pastors learn?

But while that was an interesting thought, and one I’d like answers to, even more important were a few other thoughts I had. The second thought that went through my mind upon conclusion of the show was, “If someone else was to spend 30 days with a Christian family and community, what would it look like?” That thought struck me, and I’m sitting here trying really hard to come up with something, and all I can think of is, “We go sing some songs on Sunday and listen to a guy yak, and then maybe do something else on Wednesday?” I am simply stunned at how much Christians look and act and live exactly like everyone else. That’s not necessarily a negative or positive thing in and of itself, because part of the reason it was so different for this guy to live with Muslims was because of the different rules and restrictions they place themselves under (the food codes, prayer 5 times a day, etc.). However, this then led me to my third thought, which was certainly more negative in nature.

Thought 3: I watched this show and I observed this Muslim community in action, their dedication and self-discipline, and I thought, “And we can’t read our Bible’s every day?” Though we don’t have regulations such as Muslims or Jews, that doesn’t mean that we should neglect spiritual disciplines. Instead, because of our “Christian freedom”, we are just lazy (and sometimes, myself included). Granted, it’s hard to tell what something is really like from watching a TV show, so I have to take what I saw with a grain of salt. But at the same time, it still begs the question of why Christians can hardly find the time to read, let alone study, their Bibles. Why we find it hard to pray daily. To become involved in church ministry. Why things like studying the languages are so foreign to us. It’s like, for most Christians, the whole of the Christian experience is wrapped up in attending church on Sunday. I mean, come on! Sometimes I wonder if we make it too easy. Not saying we should impose strict food diets on people or say they should pray in a certain direction, but at the same time, it’s almost as if by showing people the free gift of salvation, we’re also saying, “and you never have to worry about your faith again!” At least, if you look at the Church in America, that’s what we seem to be saying to people, because that’s what it sure looks like.

Somehow, we’ve got to become more devout. We need to take our faith seriously. This isn’t just some game, some free pass to heaven. I mean, by choosing a faith, you are choosing a god! That’s a serious thing! And yet we don’t seem to treat it that way.

Once again, I am just humiliated, and frustrated, at what Christianity has become in the West.

Last week Calvin and I visited our first new church. It was okay, but not for us. The people who were “supposed” to be nice (ie. the official greeter, the man behind the information counter, and the pastor) were nice enough. The greeter gave us a tour of the building. He was friendly. But, that’s his job. I’m not really impressed by friendly greeters. No one else talked or smiled at us. Of course, in larger churches (>200 people) I’m less critical, because I realize that there are just too many people to know everyone and who’s new and who’s not (although Calvin and I, afterwards, were discussing potential ways of getting around that for the sake of visitors feeling welcome). But, if how many people they had in the service we went to (they have two) is normal, anyone who’s been there for any length of time should have known we were visitors.

At any rate, I’m not really trying to be too critical of the church; I understand that’s how most “contemporary,” modern churches are. I think it’s just the culture of the people that kind of church attracts. But, I’ve done more than my share of church shopping (due to the military life, much more than Calvin has), and there’s just something nice about some of those smaller “country” churches that are sooooo incredibly friendly. The problem with those is, is that while they may be friendly on the outside, that’s only as long as you conform to their community standards, which normally are outward standards. I’m not sure what would happen if I walked into one of those churches looking like a Goth. It would probably depend on the church, of course. I’ve seen God do a great work in my home church, which used to be one of those stuck-in-the-mud, traditional, but friendly churches. They are very welcoming of all types now.

Anyways, back to the church we visited last week. Friendliness aside, I know both Calvin and I thought our heads were going to explode sitting through that sermon. It’s not that it was bad persay…it was just…*sigh* so typically Christian. Prooftexting. Taking verses out of context. Using Greek words to prove something that I, who don’t even know Greek, am extremely skeptical that he knew what he was talking about in that regards. We’ve just been too spoiled by being able to listen to the Word properly exegeted yet practically applied every week. It’s going to be find hard to find that again.

Yet, at the same time, both Calvin and I left feeling rather empty. Neither of us really feel that the Sunday morning service paradigm is really accomplishing anything worthwhile. We’re not sure what the point is. Even at our former church, we weren’t sure what the point was. Fellowship? You’ve got to be kidding. Singing? So have a sing-fest sometime. Discipleship? Well, sure…but I learn, as do most people, alot more sitting in a small group having discussion with other people who care. So, I ask again…why do Sunday mornings? Why is that “church”? Why are you a bad Christian if you don’t go to Sunday morning services? Why not just go to small groups? Is that forsaking the fellowship? Can’t we find another way to fellowship besides this…Sunday…thing? Unfortunately, in America, that *is* how you do church. There isn’t anything else. Unless you get into the emergent church movement. But there aren’t any of those around here, and I’m not sure I really want to do that anyways.

So, I don’t think we’ll be going back there. I’m not sure where we’re going to go. We’re not going to find what we’re looking for. Not around here anyways. We’d have to move out west somewhere, where they’re a little more open. But, we’re not moving. So, we’re kinda stuck. So we’ll have to find some church and do our Christian duty and suffer through Sunday morning services. We were going to give every church we visited 3 weeks. But what if you just don’t *like* the church? And I didn’t. And I’m not sure I’ll find one I do. It’s rather depressing.

So, Calvin decided that we weren’t going to church this morning. I think he’s concerned about me. He says that I need a week off to heal. You see - I can’t even go to church anymore without wondering if any of these people are being real. None of what happened was directed at me personally, but indirectly, it hurt me very badly. I can’t trust anyone. Maybe they’re real, maybe there not. Let’s just face it; I don’t like church. I don’t really like THE Church either. If I weren’t a Christian, I’d never have anything to do with Christians again. But, I am a Christian, and I know from the inside that it’s not about what Christians do, but what God has done for me, and so in faithfulness to God, I’m rather stuck with the Church, and Christians alike. It’s rather infuriating, but I can’t do much about it.

I’m not really sure that taking a week off will do anything. I think the only thing that can heal me (aside from God), though I doubt I’ll ever really be the same again, is finding a group of real, authentic Christians who can show me that they’re not *all* evil hypocrites. I pray that God will bring that into my life. Meanwhile, I really don’t like church, and I don’t like Christians, but I’m trying to be open to people. Maybe taking a week off will help some, but I’ve got to give people a chance. And I can’t do that sitting at home. *sigh* So, after today, next week, it’s back to church shopping. We have two more possibilities to try. Well three. But that’s another story. Anyways…over and out.

Today was our last Sunday. Calvin gave a particularly good Sunday School lesson this morning, and the students were exceptionally attentive and engaged. We sang some songs, and then the Pastor preached a good message, as he almost always does. And then…we left. Without even one goodbye. The only family that appears to care that we are leaving didn’t say goodbye, but that is because we have already mutually agreed to continue getting together, and so it’s really not goodbye for us. But…no one else. Not a single student. Not a single adult. So we just…left.

Calvin pointed out to me that he noticed I didn’t give the church the finger as I walked out, as you may remember I once posted I wanted to do. (Although as I mentioned to him, that was in the context of the Church, capital C, not our church specifically.) I thought about that some more, and honestly, I really didn’t feel like it. I didn’t feel anger or bitterness toward the church or anyone in it as we walked out. Just grief. The same, deeply embedded grief for the Church and its state that I have always felt, and which has now touched my life in a very real and personal way. I could only feel sorrow that this was how it turned out. And broken-hearted for the students who were the indirect victims of this situation, who must now ride out yet another wave of changes they didn’t ask for. And I felt sadness - sad that no one cared enough even to say goodbye.

I never thought things like this were supposed to happen to normal people. You know, lay-leaders. Volunteers. And certainly not to us. And though we weren’t “pushed out” of the church, those who believe we (or specifically, Calvin) would have been better suited to other ministries delude themselves; eventually, they would have realized they didn’t want us in those either. They would have never found a place for us they could be satisfied with, because of a basic philosophical belief that no one seemed to want to dialogue about. A philosophical stance that suits Calvin and I and our giftings, and one that doesn’t make us the typical Youth Pastor and wife. Nor the typical anything in a church. And most churches…well…they don’t want atypical. They want the stereotype. They want you to fit into a mold. We would never have fit into a mold that they set forth. And that’s okay. I’m sure they’ll find someone who will.

But meanwhile, we will search for the place that can accept us for who we are and what we’re passionate about. I’m not sure if a place like that exists. Through this, I think Calvin and I have become even more “radical” in our philosophy than we were when we came here. This situation has produced some good: we know even more than before where our place is, what our giftings are, and where our passion lies. We know what we are strong in and what we are weak in. It has certainly been a learning experience (though not quite what I had in mind when we said that’s what this would be!). I know that I, for one, will never again play the Christian game for the sake of the approval of man. There is wisdom, and there is deception. There is shrewdness, and there is insincerity. I am more than willing to be gracious and understanding of those who have not reached the point I am at in my faith and understanding of the Bible, and I will not be a stumbling block to those people, but at the same time, I will not be fake to do so. I am me, and no one else.

If we can find a group of people who can accept that, we will be golden. Once again, I’m not sure a place exists in this area, and that is my fear. But we will try. And what happens if there is none…? I don’t know. Calvin and I, with God, will cross that bridge if we come to it. I am, and fear always will be, a loner in American Christian culture, which is merely a sanitized copycat of secular culture. I am after something deeper than most people want to go. I am not after perfection, I am after genuineness. The star is always just out of reach…like grasping for the wind, in the words of Qohelet.

I pray that it will not always be so.