Maybe I only thought I was Christian

All Things to All People: Imagining a Post Prejudicial World.

My Uncle Wayne was a wise and caring soul, a Pastor ordained by the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). We spent many hours discussing theologies of interest mostly to ourselves (I was a Barthian, he preferred Emil Brunner, but we both loved Paul Tillich). Most of our conversations were at a time when I was new to the Church and in the honeymoon period of experiencing myself as “a new being in Christ” and encountering the “unconditional moral imperative” (these are both Tillich-isms for born again from above and God’s will, respectively). We used the terminology of theology and rarely used “Church” language, if at all. He encouraged me in my studies and in my spiritual development, as he did with many others in the family, especially those outside of the Christian faith. Wayne modeled the Apostle Paul, as it was in his DNA to meet people where they were. It has been some years since Wayne passed from his earthly existence.

In these days of the approaching “twilight” of my chronological and spiritual life, I miss him more acutely than ever.

If I were to have the opportunity to ask him just one more question, there would be no hesitation. “Why are my attempts at repentance no longer liberating but exhausting, more akin to the Trials of Sisyphus than transforming?”

This essay is at risk of being another self-absorbed “crisis of faith” confession. That likelihood must be entertained; as the author I admit the temptation. An opportunity for spiritual growth? Undoubtedly. But I know what to expect from my Protestant and Evangelical acquaintances. Something like this. “You haven’t truly repented.” “You don’t love Jesus enough.” “If you had truly acknowledged the love of Jesus Christ you wouldn’t feel this way.” “If that is how you feel, you aren’t really a Christian.” And so on and so on. And the all time favorite “If you are unhappy go find another Church home.”

To my Christian brethren, I without equivocation reply that my sin is the greater. As to the sin of others, there but for the grace of God go I.

I haven’t attended church for some years now, and presently not a member of any Christian congregation. At this point the question is no longer why I left the Church, rather, why don’t I return?

I can without hesitation state that I am tired of trying to be a good Christian. I did pretty well at first. My happiest memories of the Church revolve around a remarkable group of young millennials from our “Monday Night Bible Study”. The high water mark for me was our study of the book of Ecclesiastes, being deeply moved by these opening verses:

Ec 1: The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.

2: “Vanity of vanities,” says the Preacher, “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.”

3:  What advantage does man have in all his work? Which he does under the sun?

4: A generation goes and a generation comes, But the earth remains forever.

5: Also, the sun rises and the sun sets; And hastening to its place it rises there again.

6: Blowing toward the south, Then turning toward the north, The wind continues swirling along; And on its circular courses the wind returns.

7: All the rivers flow into the sea, Yet the sea is not full. To the place where the rivers flow, There they flow again.

8: All things are wearisome; Man is not able to tell it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, Nor is the ear filled with hearing.

9: That which has been is that which will be, And that which has been done is that which will be done. So there is nothing new under the sun.

I came to understand that this was good news, not a call to nihilism, but to embrace the freedom that comes with knowing the limits of our free will and the futility of chasing after smoke (translated commonly as “vanity”).

I studied the Ten Commandments guided by John Calvin’s commentaries, which left me with an understanding of the Decalogue possibly unique amongst my fellow congregants. And caught hell teaching an adult Sunday School class that utilized these commentaries to explore a controversial film series “The Decalogue”, a 1989 Polish television series directed by Krzysztof Kieślowski, a Roman Catholic. The low point in my career as an amateur Christian educator came when a member of the class stood up and castigated me for teaching a class reminiscent of sitting around during the 60s smoking dope and saying things like “oh wow man.”

I am still trying to visualize John Calvin smoking ganja.

I once heard a sermon on Galatians entitled “Christ Plus”. The point of the sermon, and the book of Galatians, was the sufficiency of Christ, without qualifiers. For example, in Galatians we find the Christian basis for political movements towards freedom and equality :

“There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free man, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

The American people, following the Supreme Court decision outlawing prohibitions against same sex marriage, have been besieged by an exuberant outpouring of Christ-Plus theology, from Christians and non Christians alike, explicit as well as implicit, that states that one can’t be authentically Christian if you believe in (fill in the blank with your most hated political position). In fact, it was an article from the Baptist News Global “I Beg to Differ” that prompted this essay. While I agree with the larger point, that conservative Christians have embraced the culture wars at the expense of other relevant Biblical exhortations, in the context of Christianity in America, this is yet again another list of Christ-plus exhortations. Stuff I must believe and do or I can’t call myself Christian. A representative quote:

“ Where is all this travail at the other signs of the wickedness of the world, the marks of society that run counter to the kingdom of God that have dominated our culture for many years, those many other ways in which the American culture resists the ways of Jesus?

Such as our gun culture? The racism? The distain for the poor? The resistance to government helping the weak, the poor, the lonely, the stranger?”

As an enthusiastic participant in the gun culture, naturally I took umbrage at the author’s priorities.

So at this time in my life, existentially speaking, the issue is alienation from Christian congregational life. I am too Calvinist, not Calvinist enough; too liberal, too conservative; don’t favor gay marriage enough, don’t oppose gay marriage; too prolife, too prochoice; have too many guns, don’t support gun control, support gun control. Too rich, too nice a home, too libertarian, too progressive, too liberal, employ the historical/critical method of text analysis, yet too literal and too liberal in my approach to scripture. And so on and so on, ad nauseum. Even the Unitarians wouldn’t want me! I read scripture!

Is this what it means to be all things to all people?

I lied. I would ask Wayne two questions. The second would be “Why does it take the massacre of a Bible study class by a white supremacist for Americans to witness authentic Christianity?”

David Brooks recently suggested that conservative Christians should get past the culture wars that they are destined to lose, and work to repair “a society rendered atomized, unforgiving and inhospitable,” believing (optimistically in my view) that “Social conservatives are well equipped to repair this fabric, and to serve as messengers of love, dignity, commitment, communion and grace.”

I love his optimism. A friend of mine told me recently that in his idealism he “stubbornly refuses to surrender the ‘institution birthed by Jesus’ to the arrogantly pedantic.” I also admire my friend’s idealism. I however have surrendered. I mourn the loss of a loving community unified in Christ. But most of all I mourn my own sin of weakness in all things. If Christians want to self immolate in response to losing the culture wars, so be it. If being a Christian requires unquestioned adherence to a particular political ideology, so be it. But I am out. I am just not that good a Christian. I have my own sins to worry about, for the sake of those who love me if for no other reason.

At the end of his life, Karl Barth was asked to sum it all up. He replied “Jesus loves me this I know, ‘cause the Bible tells me so.”

From the book of Job, a famous lament to his “friends” during his time of trial, which they ascribe to his imagined sin:

“I am accounted wicked. Why then should I toil in vain?

To be continued…