can i be a christian and not be part of the church?

My professor asked this question toward the end of class last Tuesday. My hand immediately shot up to say something to the effect of, "yes please, let's try to answer this question." I know it isn't that simple. I know he was trying to get at the complexity of the question and the nuance of the answer. My point in making that statement was that this question is relevant for me.

A little background: in 2014, I left the congregation I had devoted myself to, the church I found my family in. I left because this organization is abusive. Let me be clear, I am not calling the individual people involved abusive. I felt abused by the systems and structures that are put in place, that individuals are forced to adhere to. It wasn't until I left that I realized just how oppressive this environment was. It wasn't until I left that I began to feel free enough, safe enough, to be honest with myself. It wasn't until I left that I was able to see myself for who I have been created to be. I have been in seminary since 2012, and having that journey coincide with leaving church has been difficult to say the least. I have felt my faith expand and open in ways that some deem unacceptable. Simply setting foot on campus is an act of courage for me most days.

So this question means something to me.

Hozier, an Irish musician, released a song called "Take Me to Church" in 2013. It deeply resonated with me at the time, and still does in rich and challenging ways. His lyrics can offer a powerful reflection on the meaning of the Church and the ways that it can limit and even harm those of us who do not quite fit the mold. I'm using some of his lyrics to guide this conversation.

This is hungry work

This is a question about immanence. This question has present reality. You can make it about who gets into heaven, but you would be wrong to do so. It is a bodily question and it must deal with all of our lives: sex, pleasure, mental illness, aging, isolation, poverty, disability, racism, and our need for each other and the earth. If it does not deal with these things, it is incomplete, dishonest, hopeless even. If the gospel does not speak to these things, then being a "Christian" is irrelevant.

My church offers no absolutes

"Church" is often associated with a set of beliefs, doctrines, dogmas. If you do not assent intellectually to these "truths," you don't get in. Sometimes these beliefs are explicitly stated in a Statement of Faith, and sometimes they are implicit in our attitudes, actions, decisions, worship. Either way, they function as a filter, those who differ are weeded out. The second approach is particularly harmful because it makes people feel that they don't belong without it having to be directly stated. There's no accountability.

If there is anything post-modernism has taught us, it's that our categories - our absolutes - are limited. So perhaps this question isn't about the absolutes, whether we fit into the binary of yes-no or in-out. Perhaps this is a question about belonging. Perhaps it is asking "is there space for me, my body, my experience, in your theology?" Do we find God in dogmatic assent or do we find God in the encounter between two or more bodies who bring their authenticity with love and reciprocity?

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

Maybe the sacraments would help in considering this question. Baptism and Eucharist are the two primary sacraments that form the Protestant life. The specifics of the practice of each vary between denominations and congregations, but the basics carry through.

Baptism is a mark of conversion, an act of participation, an initiation into community. Christians celebrate this moment with water, as Jesus did. But baptism exists in many forms and in many communities. It is a rite of passage. Baptism is about belonging. I experienced a baptismal moment the first time I stepped into a queer night club. Christians do not own the idea of Baptism. Our guiding question is asking whether my Christian baptism and my queer baptism can co-exist. It is asking whether a Christian baptism and a disabled baptism can co-exist. Does all of me get to belong?

Eucharist is a communion of the faithful across space and time. It is the sharing of a meal, a meal that invokes the presence of Jesus and all that entails. But what does our Eucharist mean if it does not feed the poor, if someone is left out, if someone is denied access (either implicitly or explicitly)? The Eucharist is an equalizer, or at least it should be. We participate in the body and blood of Christ in the same way as the saints through the ages, and on equal footing. This is what we proclaim, but if my body does not fit, if you won't hear my voice, am I really equal?

Good God, let me give you my life

A set of criteria for who is in or out would be easy. But life is not easy. Faith is not easy. Things are never that simple. We have been arguing from the beginning about the right way to do and be, but we'll never have the answers. What we can do is love, make space, invite, celebrate. It is so easy to do these things with people who look like, sound like, feel like, and agree with us. But at no point is that what we are called to. At every turn we are called out of our comfort zones. We are called to welcome the outsider in. There is no line between being in and being out anymore.

Instead of asking "can I be a Christian and not be part of the Church?" perhaps a more helpful question is "how am I limiting access to belonging?"

perspective

tonight I occupied a time and space that I haven't occupied in at least three and a half years.

I am sort of at a loss.

I didn't go to class tonight. instead, I took a drive. I ended up where I began, a block from my first Seattle apartment. my feet dangled over the ledge at Kerry Park, and I could see my breath in the chill night air. but most importantly I could see the lights of the city lit up against the dark sky, and I watched the ferry boat glide across Puget Sound.

I made a choice. I am here. I am whole, named and known. and I have come so far. this space that I am in is not me.

and so, I am left with questions. why now? how did I get here? I imagine it was not one moment but rather the compromising of many moments that got me here, to the one that finally did me in. how can I avoid this place in the future?

unfortunately, these questions remain unanswered for now. I await the moment I find the ability to breathe regularly again, when I can search for these answers with the benefit of hindsight, and with the freedom of a long weekend.

it's the little things

life is good. i have no complaints whatsoever.

that doesn't always mean that i am successful at getting out of bed at a decent hour, getting all of my work done, or completing some of life's basic tasks, such as making sure i have food to eat and my laundry is put away.

today, however, is different.

today, i feel like an adult.

why? you ask...

because today, my bed is made. my room is clean. my laundry is put away. it is 10am and i have managed to shower, go to work, go to the grocery store, and complete an assignment for school. i am on a roll.

don't worry, it wont last. (see this blog for amusement, and the story of my life)

i am living at the most full version of myself when i don't have the freedom to do whatever i want. i need boundaries, schedules, tasks, to maintain my sanity. (flashbacks to THEO 6030 and Bonhoeffer here) my point is, this quarter is shaping up to be a busy, fulfilling, live-giving quarter, and i am super excited. i don't always feel like i have it together. more often than not, i am happy if i am surviving. today i am thriving, and i will rejoice in that.

seminary - year one

yes, i know. i'm not just in seminary. to say seminary leaves out the part of what i am doing that is actually preparing me for my career. too bad. my first year of graduate school i was only formally admitted to the seminary program, so that is what it was for me, despite taking three Marriage and Family Therapy (MFT) classes throughout the year.

so my first year is done. it is time to gear up for the next. the first year was so intense that i effectively checked out sometime in late April, early May. to be honest, there are so many things that i could have done better. i slacked off on my reading (sometimes A LOT). i put off papers until the last minute. i didn't get straight A's.

if there is one thing that i did well, it is that i fully experienced every moment i could of my first year of seminary. through everything from class meeting, to the first annual Truth Bomb Thanksgiving, or classroom discussions about the person and work of Christ. despite the fact that i may not have done all my reading, i wrestled through the material, and i walked away changed.

year two will in some ways be easier, but in many ways be more of a challenge. it is starting to get real. i am fully admitted to the MFT program, which is what i actually want to be doing with my life. i will have to actually start counseling people. much more is at stake now.

my goals this year are to be more disciplined - to do more of the reading, and to be better about staying on top of work before it becomes too late. i also hope to maintain my sanity by being able to balance the friendships that are important to me and give me life with the things that are required of me.

so, here we go... year two.

why stephen ministry is simultaneously the best and worst use of my time

About six months ago I started Stephen Ministry training. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I wasn't involved in service with my church community, I found myself recognizing fewer and fewer faces, and I needed more volunteer experience. Being a graduate student and a reluctant efficiency expert, I decided to try something that would allow me to check all these boxes and maximize my time. Stephen Ministry seemed like a good fit for me.

And then training started.

I was in a class of about ten students. Don't get me wrong, these folks were awesome, and I have succeeded in making more friends because of this experience. But the curriculum reflected a sort of trite, over-simplified, by the numbers faith. A faith that is so sugar-coated that it makes me sick to my stomach.

Once that was finished, we started the required bi-monthly supervision and continuing education time. In this group, I am the youngest by a good 10-15 years. Which doesn't normally phase me, except that in this case it means that I have a very particular role to play. If I don't play it, a certain voice in the conversation is lost - usually the one that is calling for fresh perspective and a step out of our comfort zones. There are also interesting choices made on how to spend our time in small groups, and what information in our caring relationships seems important enough to focus on for extended periods of time. I am waiting to have my mind changed about this part of the process, but at this point it feels like a monstrous waste of my time.

Then there is the heart of it all. I have been paired up with someone who has requested a little extra TLC. I must confess, I fell into the worst trap ever and passed judgment before we started meeting. But here I am eating my words, like I should be.

In this pairing, I have the opportunity to not only meet a need for another person, but to exercise my own gifts. We get to dialogue about Scripture, about what this crazy book means for our lives. I have already been thinking profusely about how to teach a healthy theology of Scripture to others, and now I am blessed with a chance to try it out one-on-one. This part of Stephen Ministry is what it is all about. This is what makes that lame meeting worth it (hopefully). I am growing because of this interaction, and hopefully she is too.

class meeting

part of my first year seminary experience has been participation in something called a "class meeting." it is sort of modeled after the Wesleyan band meeting, but our groups are not gender exclusive, and have a couple other minor changes. our class meeting consisted of four first-year students, one second-year student, and one faculty member. we have met once a week all year. there have been two main components of our class meeting: to check in with one another on the state of our souls (this usually manifested itself in each person sharing something about how God had worked in their life during the week), and alms-giving. class meeting was NOT bible study, prayer group, or a book group. today was our last meeting of the year with all six of us present. throughout the year i have had moments of reflection and appreciation for the presence of this group in my life for this first year of seminary, but today i thought i'd write it down. being a part of this group was invaluable this year. one of the biggest things that i learned from this group of people is about how i articulate my story to others. somewhere in the middle of winter quarter, one of my classmates called me out. he noted that i had shared my entire time without ever using the word God. and he asked me to speak specifically about how God played a role in what i was sharing. i was censoring God. i used language that was safe, language that would be sure not to offend, and language that didn't do justice to the power of God in my life. since then, i have paid more attention to how i communicate what God is doing in my life, and i have learned to recognize things as God rather than coincidence. and i have learned to ask better questions. this group of people has been vulnerable together, we have laughed together, we have thrown our hands up in the air together, we have grieved together, and we have prayed together. i don't think i ever would have thought that this kind of group would have been beneficial - i mean, i had never heard of a small group that didn't study the bible or wasn't one of these newfangled "affinity groups". i am here to tell you, friends, that there is something to this idea of a class meeting or band meeting. it appears that i get to do it again next year, and i hope that it becomes an indispensable part of my discipleship in the future.

Arrest Me

I am returned from my latest jaunt in Haiti. Lo and behold, this trip has had its own group of challenges and lessons. I had the benefit of realizing them during the trip this time, and thus I am not left with confusion or trying to find answers. God spoke pretty clearly, and I left with some pretty clear calls for how to move forward. To give you a sense of where I am at, here's a song written by my friends in the band The Hills Beyond. It describes both where my heart is at this current point in time, and also is my prayer as I seek to move forward. I will post more about my processing, and the specifics of how I want to be growing in a future post. Arrest me, O God. Arrest me, O God Take captive my attention Take hold of my affection And seize my adoration For they have wandered far They have wandered far Arrest me, O God. Arrest me, O God Correct my indecision Confront my indignation Contain my own rebellion For I have wandered far I have wandered far I have wandered far Arrest me, O God. Arrest me, O God Receive me in adoption Reform me in redemption Restore me in salvation For I have wandered far I have wandered far Make me a home, for I have wandered far You make all things new And you help me love you You make all things new And you help me desire you Help us love you, Help us desire you