Much Better!

Insights
This entry is part 35 of 35 in the series The Problems of Evangelicalism

I really have to share a positive experience with a local church leader, who actually responded – positively! – with a decisive answer to my Litmus Test.

You will likely remember that the Litmus Test is where I ask church leadership how well people with Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer and other (LGBTQ+) sexualities are integrated into their church.

Generally, so far at any rate, church leaders have avoided (and in some cases completely ignored!) my question.

In this case, however, I was thrilled to not only get a straight answer, but also, as I said, the answer was overwhelmingly positive. In that church, LGBTQ+ people are fully integrated – and I also got the impression that someone’s sexuality is no-one else’s business. Which is as it should be.

How do you like that?!

The church is an Anglican congregation and, as far as I can tell, the ethos behind it is an Evangelical one. Sure, there was the invitation to go for a chat and coffee – which I actually did! – but the massive difference was that my question was answered straight up, before I went to meet up.

So I went along for a chat with the church leader, and learned a bit about their history and what the church does. I have to say I was very impressed, and would have no qualms whatsoever about attending services at that church.

That’s so huge for me.

Now, I did glean that there are certain doctrines that I don’t agree with – like Hell, for instance – that are likely a part of their belief structure. But it was also explained to me that people are entitled to form their own opinions from discussion, research and the Scriptures, which is a really healthy way to do things. And differing beliefs are ‘allowed’.

What?, you might say. How can others dictate what beliefs are allowed and are not? Who even gets a say in others’ belief structures? Well, when you consider my faith background in my nearly half-century of walking with Jesus, with the near-culty medium-control congregations I have been a part of, then it should come as no surprise that some people actually do expect that others dictate their beliefs, on pain of ostracism or at least disapproval if they do not conform. Also, there is an expectation that strangers can correct other strangers ‘all done in love, brother’, and that this is seen as normal.

So, then, to find an environment in which that is not the ‘norm’ is indeed refreshing, and especially in a congregation that is likely Evangelical at its root.

I’m impressed, I have to say.

And it was lovely to meet that leader and to get to know them a little.

So I just thought I’d share this little nugget of good news and brightness, in my generally dark series on the Problems of Evangelicalism. Throughout the series, I have taken care to maintain the assertion that a) good stuff does come out of Evangelicalism, and b) that not all Evangelical congregations are cast in the same culty mould as those others I have queried with my Litmus test. And this congregation is a great example of those kinds of good congregations. And it’s right on my doorstep; more or less, anyway.

And I find that really encouraging!

I’m Now Publishing on Substack too

Insights

Just to let my regular readers know that I am also now publishing my blog entries on the wider platform of Substack.

I’m in the gradual process of moving the articles at the rate of a few every day – it’s probably going to take a good while as I have made several hundred blog posts over the eleven years I have been writing it! While Substack does have a bulk import feature, it doesn’t work with my blog because of certain formatting issues, particularly with page layouts and the footnotes plugin I use.

Also, the RefTagger Bible references rollover feature doesn’t work on Substack either, which is a bit of a pain. If you roll over this Scripture reference John 3:16 with your mouse, or click on it as a link (if you’re using a mobile phone), it will take you to the Bible verse itself. This doesn’t work at all on Substack.

Also, the series system works very differently on Substack. On there, the series are not quite the same way of handling things; on there they are called ‘Sections’ and they always show with the newest at the top of the list. This is annoying as usually each of my series have an introduction page which it’s usually best to read first. But on Substack there’s no facility to arrange them like that. Meh.

But still, all my blog posts will still appear here on my usual WordPress blog, so don’t worry! I just wanted to get my stuff out to a wider audience, is all.

Here’s the link to my Substack homepage if you’d like to see how things look on there:

My Substack Homepage

And I’m Still a Stranger!

Insights
This entry is part 34 of 35 in the series The Problems of Evangelicalism
More attempts to get a straight answer out of Evangelical church leadership

A few months ago, I wrote an account of my attempts to get a straight answer out of the leadership of a local Evangelical church; an answer to my standard ‘Litmus Test’ which I use to determine how ‘safe’ a church is for people with ‘differences’.

I ask them how they go about integrating people of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer and other sexualities (LGBTQ+) into their church. A simple question, you’d have thought. But it seems not. The story of that attempt was written as a real-time experiment, and it makes for intriguing reading – as well as being frustrating, surprising and indeed infuriating all at the same time! Here is the link in case you want to go and look at the story.

That church failed the test. Not only did the pastor not answer the question, but he didn’t even reply to me. And part of the testing I performed was to check that his email system was working, which it was – so he didn’t have that excuse.

In short, I was a stranger, and he did not welcome me! (Matthew 25:43)

My attempts to find a church that passed the Litmus Test continued after that experiment. And I am – ‘disappointed’ isn’t really strong enough – disgusted, perhaps? to report that I have contacted three other churches with the Litmus Test question, and in each case they have at least replied to me – which is good – but also in each case they have ‘invited’ me for a coffee and chat, and also in each case the terms were very firmly dictated to me with reference to it having to be in their town, face-to-face only, and that that was the only way they were going to discuss the matter. In other words, very hardline church leader stuff, and in fact in one case he never replied to anything else I sent him.

I don’t like to generalise, but it doesn’t look good that so far, four out of four local Evangelical church leaders have refused to answer the question. They are still hiding behind the sofa, hoping the problem will go away. In my case, it will indeed go away, because I will simply shake the dust (Mt 10:14) and move on; I want nothing further to do with these people.

But the problem itself will not go away. If these people really claim to represent Christ on the earth, and if they seriously want to, as they see it, ‘save people from Hell’ (and all good Evangelicals should indeed want just that!), then sooner or later they will need to address the question. The LGBTQ+ community, and other people with ‘differences’ from the white, cisgender heteronormative and neurotypical pattern so favoured by Evangelical churches, will simply stay away. Which, of course, may be the whole idea for those leaders anyway.

The thing is, though, that in the context of the Bible chapter where it is recorded that Jesus actually said ‘I was a stranger, and you did not welcome Me’ (Matthew 25:43), Jesus was having a proper rant about the attitudes of the Religious of His time; the attitudes of the Religious towards the very people towards whom, it seems, Evangelicalism holds the same attitudes. Those who are marginalised, downtrodden, less fortunate, poorer, or even just different, even.

And those Religious people are the people to whom Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do to one of the least of these, you did not do for Me” (Mt 25:45).

One of ‘the least of these’ was the ‘stranger’, of whom Jesus said the religious did not invite them, and thereby Him, in. And so they did not invite Him in, either.

It seems I am still a stranger, then!

A Dark Testimony IX – The Precipitating Event

Insights, Personal, Humour
This entry is part 33 of 35 in the series The Problems of Evangelicalism
Precipitating: To hasten the occurrence of; bring about prematurely, hastily, or suddenly. – Dictionary.com 

TRIGGER WARNING: As with most of the Dark Testimony pieces in this series on the Problems of Evangelicalism, be warned that this story contains accounts of spiritual abuse. However, it also contains great encouragement, so it’s probably worth it!

The Precipitating Event

The Dark Night of the Soul is, for many believers, something they have never heard of. For others, it is something that they have experienced – and may still be experiencing, that or something like it[1] – but haven’t got a name for. For yet others, it is an experience that they recognise, and take full advantage of. I have written on the subject of the Dark Night extensively, the main such piece being the sixth part part of the series ‘The Stages of Spiritual Growth‘, a piece entitled ‘The Wall’. If you’re not familiar with the concept of the Dark Night, may I gently suggest that you go and read that piece first; it will be well worth it!

For many people who enter the Dark Night, there appears to be a ‘precipitating event’ – the thing that begins the process, tips the person ‘over the edge’, or the ‘spark that starts the fire'[2]. This could be something like a life trauma – loss of a loved one; a scary medical diagnosis; loss of a job – or it could be church disillusionment, or indeed anything else including even good things. Maybe the birth of a child shakes up your foundations of faith; you realise how Father God feels about you because of the way you feel about your own child. I speak more on this subject in the article ‘Dark Night of the Soul – Revisited‘. For me – and it’s just come back to mind just now, which is why I’m writing about it! – I’m afraid it was yet another episode of spiritual abuse.

Here’s what happened.

For a year or so after the birth of my daughter in 1998, Fiona and I were involved in helping a local Anglican church to move into the realm of what you might call ‘modern’ songs. Essentially, we, along with a small team of musicians from that church, introduced modern songs (i.e. not your old bog-standard ‘hymns’) into their worship. We did this once per month, at the request of the Vicar in that church, and we did it on an entirely voluntary basis; we were unpaid. Which was fine.

In general, the congregation were behind it and liked the new music. We didn’t bring any ‘happy-clappy’ stuff; it was more of the quiet devotional kinds of worship songs that we did. I even performed a few solo Don Francisco songs on occasion. In general, it went very well, including two particularly memorable incidents: one where another worship leader from another church came and complimented me on my leading and said he recognised the anointing; and another time when an old lady went over ‘in the Spirit'[3] and they didn’t realise what had happened to her. No-one there had ever seen it before, you see, but I could tell that that was what had happened. And hey, if I’d been wrong, well, they had actually called an ambulance for her and the paramedics turned up and pronounced her completely fine and also very happy! So, all good.

There was also an elderly couple there that were really keen on the music. I assume they were like closet Evangelicals or something, because after every service where we contributed, they would come up and say how pleased they were that we were introducing the new songs. I don’t know what they were called, but as is always the case in meetings of any kind where people are up at the front leading, likely everyone in the 300+ congregants feels like they actually know you where in actual fact, of course, they really don’t. And, because of their evident enthusiasm, it was a great surprise to me that the abuse, when it came, was delivered by the wife in that couple. Underneath her sanctimonious exterior, it turned out that there was a bitter and judgmental old bag that felt entitled to judge me and then to rebuke me, a complete stranger.

The lady’s judgmental religious spirit may not have been strictly Evangelical, but her actions on that day, and the following days, illustrate perfectly the sorts of things that terminally Religious people can do, given sufficient self-righteous indignation for a perceived offence (like ‘Joanna’ in the story in this essay) and which seems to be overly prevalent in Evangelical congregations. Plus, like I said, the old biddy did seem like a closet Evangelical! And the effects on the victim are the same.

What happened was that on one of the occasions where I was leading, there was also a ‘baptism’ – actually, being Church of England, it was a ‘Christening’; infant baptism – and most of the congregation were at the back, clustered around the font, to watch. I was talking quietly with one of the music team; we were still out at the front of the church, and a fair way away from the font. He’d asked me something about – of all things – throwing objects; you know, like a cricket ball. Or a hand grenade. Or whatever. And I was demonstrating the actions as we discussed things. All very quiet, everyone looking away from us and concentrating on the main event: the baptism. I thought nothing of it at the time; the baptism completed, the congregation took their seats again and we carried on with the next song.

But then, after the service, that old bag came up to me and started laying in to me about that she wanted to know what I was playing at waving my arms around like that during such a solemn event as a baptism. Genuinely perplexed, I politely asked her what she was referring to. I didn’t have a clue; it was only later when my friend mentioned about the ‘throwing’ action I’d been demonstrating that I realised[4]. At the time, I flippantly suggested that maybe I was ‘praising the Lord’ or something. You know, by raising my hands? “No you weren’t!” she snarled, really nastily and viciously. “You were trying to disrupt the baptism!” I managed to keep myself in check and just quietly said that “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing in this church”. All this while my daughter was in her pushchair, watching this strange interaction between her dad and this random old bag. But of course the hag didn’t care; these kinds of people never do. She didn’t care about the damage she was doing; not at all. Eventually I just walked out, carrying my keyboard bag in one hand and pushing the buggy with the other, pursued by the strains of this ranting old biddy.

It might look like a standard sort of complaint – albeit badly delivered – by someone who was offended by something that a fellow congregant did. But the reasons I refer to it as abuse are many-fold, not least of which are a) there was no relationship between us, within which she could have any right to deliver such a rebuke; b) she did it publicly, ignoring (as, most of the time, these people tend to do) her own Rulebook where Jesus said to confront people privately; c) she really didn’t need to be so nasty about it; d) I was a volunteer, for crying out loud; giving my services and my time for free! That’s no way to treat someone who is giving freely!; e) because of what happened afterwards.

What happened afterwards? Well, she only went and told others in the church that I had actually told her to ‘go to Hell’, didn’t she. This lie, of course, took hold like wildfire, and the poor Vicar had to come round to see me and apologise gently for his congregation’s behaviour, and to (again gently) discuss our future plans with regard to our leading the ‘new worship’. In the end, we decided to discontinue it because my ‘reputation’ with them had been befouled by that evil old hag and her lies. I have to say that, since this happened nearly thirty years ago, the old bag is thankfully now long dead and gone. Sorry-not-sorry, but that’s the gritty reality of my feelings. That’s one less judgmental old hag blighting the church, and the world is a better place for that[5].

But the thing is that, even before the Vicar had come round to see me, I had decided that enough was enough and I never wanted to set foot in a church again. A place where a complete stranger can come up and abuse a person as if they have some sort of right to do that – probably, in her view, a divine right because, almost universally, religious people seem to delude themselves into thinking they have that right. I’d just had enough.

And so, that was my Precipitating Event. The thing that pushed me out of church life for fifteen years; fifteen gloriously free years of still walking with Jesus and yet free of all of the restrictions and hassle of church life. As I described in my essay ‘Still your Soul in Silence‘, the Lord had warned me about the upcoming upheaval, and I have to say that from this side of the Night, I can see all that He did before, during and afterwards as part of His plan. Some people don’t believe in God’s plans; I can understand that, especially as how the concept is so abused by Evangelical pastors (especially youth pastors), but the reality of it is that God does work with and in humans to bring about His purposes. I am convinced of this; I have been walking with Jesus for 46 years now and, despite being a cynical (retired) scientist, and someone who’s well aware of the existence of confirmation bias, I still see His plan. I have learned to do so through all the trials that life has thrown my way and let me say that God’s plans, and His wisdom and genius in carrying out those plans, run far deeper than any youth pastor, indeed any human, can fathom. These are the things that St. Paul talks about in Romans 11:33 where he says, “Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!”.

It’s also the sort of thing that you learn by being close to Him and following Him. Psalm 63:8 says, “I cling to You; Your right hand upholds me”, or, better, the KJV version, “My soul followeth hard after Thee” (Ps 63:8 (KJV)). And “The secret of the Lord is with those who fear Him; He shall make them know His covenants” (Ps 25:14 (KJV))

No matter what part of your faith walk you are presently ‘at’, you will doubtless know of things in your own life where you can see places where God has done things; said things;  worked things out. All of these things build up over the course of your life in order to build trust more and more in Him and in His unshakable faithfulness.

And remember that His faithfulness is independent of yours. He is the One Who will continue His work in your life, through thick and thin, to make you into the person you want to be. None of it is dependent on you because not only is He the One Who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before His glorious Presence faultless and with great joy (Jude 24), but also He is the One Who will do it. He is the One Who will carry on the work until it is completed (Phil 1:6). He will do it. Not you; in fact, it has nothing at all to do with your actions or anything. Grace is a gift from start to finish; Grace is not in any way dependent on behaviour. Remember that for me, God was transforming me, teaching me, pruning me from all the religious rubbish, and doing so many other things, and all while I was deliberately and purposefully staying away from churches because, well, that’s what the Dark Night does. Nothing ‘sinful’ about it; not that I’d have cared even if someone thought it was. It was just the place where I was ‘at’ in that time of my life; guided by His Hand and safe in His everlasting arms (Dt 33:27).

And it was a healthy and productive time of growth, no matter what other believers thought about me at the time. Part of me being in that Dark Night was that I was learning to disregard the opinions of others regarding my spiritual walk, because it’s entirely between me and God.

Because  – He is faithful. Yes, He is Faithful.

And so, I’m afraid I almost have to thank the old bag. Because she was instrumental in pushing me over the edge and into the Dark Night proper.

Over the course of my faith life before my Dark Night, I would often feel, in faith terms, as if I was driving a fast car down the centre of a road. And every so often I would burn out or become disillusioned, or something similar. And so at those times it was as if the car was swerving left and right across the road; wheels on the edge of the road at one point, wheels almost in the ditch at another. I often wondered if the car would ever come off the road entirely[6]. Well, it did, thanks to the actions of that stranger who believed she had the right to speak into my life. I crashed out completely, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. That’s not to say that I believe that God foreordains evil things; that’s going into the realms of Calvinism, which toxic doctrines I steer clear of. But it does show that God can use even church abuse in order to bring about His purposes.

And I find that quite encouraging!

 

 

Footnotes

Footnotes
⇧1 It’s always a highly individual experience, and it’s never the same for any two people.
⇧2 Hence the flint spark in the header picture!
⇧3 Being ‘overcome by the Spirit’ is when the power of the Holy Spirit is so strong on a person that there are physical ‘manifestations’; sometimes the person will shake/tremble, sometimes they will just be almost unconscious of what is going on around them, so overcome are they with the power and presence of God, and sometimes – most people will have seen videos of this sort of thing – they just fall over as if poleaxed. Hopefully someone will catch them on their way to the floor. I was once ‘ministering’ to a young man on the floor who suddenly opened his eyes and rolled away, because he had become aware that his mother – who was ‘quite a big lady’ was also about to fall over and land on him 🤣 Someone would have caught her, all right, but that someone would have been her son. Sort of. 😂
⇧4 I mean, why wasn’t she watching the baptism like most of the rest of the congregation; what was she doing peering at me??
⇧5 Plus, she’ll be in Heaven, so it’s better for her too! 🤣
⇧6 I described this swinging phenomenon in the first paragraph of this article, where I wrote, “…on each occasion that I burned out, I came closer and closer to never going back into leading – or even into Church; each time, that Dark Night beckoned. Eventually, it turned out to be exactly what I needed…”

Crapology

Insights, Others' stuff
This entry is part 32 of 35 in the series The Problems of Evangelicalism
When Theology Contradicts Jesus

(The above picture is clickable so that you can zoom in to read the smaller parts of the writing!)

 

Here is a magnificent piece which I just had to share. In this excellent essay, my friend Glenn Regular explains clearly and simply how following Jesus looks completely different from following Religion. I can put it no better than he does!

Crapology: When Theology Contradicts Jesus

A theology that believes that it is ok to marginalize, oppress, disrespect, segregate, and shun people, reject the teachings of Jesus, and even portray God in ways contrary to His revealed character, yet still claim to be follow Christ’s teachings high treason. A fitting theological term for such a theology I would frame as “Crapology”…a doctrine that bears the name of Christ while denying Him in practice[1]).

Jesus never taught His followers to measure righteousness by doctrinal correctness while neglecting love. Rather, He declared, “By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35). Love was not an optional virtue in the kingdom of God; it was the defining evidence of authentic discipleship. A theology that produces contempt for others may preserve religious systems, but it does not preserve the spirit of Christ.

John rebutted such theology. “He who does not love does not know God, for God is love” (1 John 4:8). Notice that John does not say such a person merely has imperfect theology. He says they do not know God. One may be able to quote Scripture, defend doctrines, and argue theology, but if love is absent, the knowledge claimed is revealed to be hollow.

Jesus consistently stood with those whom religion pushed aside. He touched lepers, welcomed sinners, defended adulterers from condemnation, and ate with those considered unclean. The religious establishment objected because His mercy disrupted their theological categories. Yet Christ revealed that the heart of God is not exclusion but reconciliation. “For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost” (Luke 19:10).

Paul also warned that even the greatest religious accomplishments amount to nothing without love. “Though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:2). Not just mistaken. Not just incomplete. Nothing. Love is not the ornament of truth; it is the very atmosphere in which truth lives.

One of the greatest forms of Crapology is the demonization of God Himself. Many have portrayed the Father as a hell sender, less merciful than Christ, and more eager to condemn than to restore. Yet Jesus declared, “He who has seen Me has seen the Father” (John 14:9). If Jesus forgave His enemies, God forgives His enemies. If Jesus loved sinners, God loves sinners. If Jesus sought the lost, God seeks the lost. Any doctrine that paints God darker than Jesus is a doctrine that has lost sight of its own foundation.

The religious leaders of Jesus’ day possessed impeccable theology by their own standards, yet Christ rebuked them because their doctrines had eclipsed the weightier matters of the law: “justice and mercy and faithfulness” (Matthew 23:23). They searched the Scriptures diligently, but failed to recognize the One to whom the Scriptures pointed (John 5:39-40). Their theology became a substitute for God rather than a pathway to Him.

The tragedy of Crapology is that it often speaks the language of faith while producing the fruit of fear, judgment, division, and exclusion. But Jesus taught that a tree is known by its fruit (Matthew 7:16-20). If a doctrine consistently produces arrogance instead of humility, condemnation instead of mercy, hatred instead of love, and separation instead of reconciliation, then the fruit testifies against the root.

The gospel revealed in Christ is not the triumph of religion over people. It is the triumph of divine love over everything that separates people from God and from one another. “For God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not counting their trespasses against them” (2 Corinthians 5:19). The closer one comes to Jesus, the more one learns to love. The further a doctrine leads from love, the further it leads from Christ.

A theology that rejects the character of Jesus while claiming His name deserves to be questioned. A theology that produces contempt while preaching Christ deserves to be challenged. And a theology that makes God look less loving than Jesus deserves a more honest title than Christian theology.

Perhaps “Crapology” will do.

Footnotes

Footnotes
⇧1 If the word ‘Crapology’ offends you, then I’d say you need to stop looking for gnats and be careful you don’t swallow any camels (Mt 23:24

A Dark Testimony VIII – Church Recovery Day (Reblog)

Insights, Others' stuff
This entry is part 31 of 35 in the series The Problems of Evangelicalism

Here is an essay from some years ago, where I presented a small glimpse into the good and the bad in Evangelical Christianity.

I feel it’s important to re-blog this one at the moment,

because this present series on ‘The Problems of Evangelicalism’ can be read as being pretty negative with regards to the actual people within Evangelicalism. However, right from the start, I have said in many of the essays in this series that this is not my intention; I do not think of the people as being in any way ‘bad’; these are all my brothers and sisters in Christ and He loves them, He died for them, and He too still attends their meetings 😀

In this essay, then, you will read some of the warm affection I have for my former congregation in Leeds. And, on the other hand, there is also some really good stuff from the legendary Don Francisco, where he explains why people would still go to churches where they are abused – something which always puzzled me.

And something which still puzzles me is how Christians of any kind can think of themselves as ‘keeping the Sabbath holy’ while at the same time working like beavers for the entire day on a Sunday. At least, those involved in Sunday ministry of any kind obviously can’t help but for this to be the case. Clearly, this is a case where there needs to be flexibility in the attitudes of Christians, and some leeway given – especially when considering that Jesus Himself said that the Sabbath was made for man, and not the other way round (Mk 2:27). That said, this leeway also opens up gentle Christians to abuse by pushy leadership, as I also explain in this essay with regard to my own personal Sabbath, which at the time had to be a Saturday. I do think that, in the end, decisions like honouring the Sabbath need to be a personal matter for each individual, and no-one else has any place in judging someone else for their adherence to someone else’s ruleset. This is what freedom in Christ actually looks like[1]. One other thing: it’s especially despicable when pushy leadership tell you that doing work on a Sunday should be a joy because you are serving the Lord, and therefore it doesn’t count as work. That’s manipulation of the most disgusting order, and yes I am sorry to say that there are manipulative people like that in the church, in all denominations! I suppose it takes all sorts….

Anyway, enough of my blather 🤣 Here instead is some other blather from several years ago!:

It’s funny, but as an Evangelical, Charismatic, Fundamentalist Christian, I believed that the Sabbath (in my ‘denomination’, that was a Sunday) was supposed to be ‘kept holy’  – whatever that’s supposed to mean (nobody ever really explored the concept, after all!) – but at the very least it should be a day of rest, because that’s what God did on the Sabbath day. Whether it was a Friday, Saturday or Sunday didn’t matter, as long as we had one day a week where we rested.

For me, my Sabbath had to be Saturday, because in addition to working a full-time job during the week, I was working at Church things virtually all day Sunday, what with being a Church musician, worship leader and all. And my leadership didn’t like me having that Saturday day of rest; I kept my Saturdays clear rigorously, and of course if that clashed with their timetable (if they  wanted something done on a Saturday) they weren’t keen. But I held fast to my principle; after all, as a lead musician, and bloody good at what I did at the keyboard, there was no way they were going to ‘fire’ me (unless I dropped some doctrinal clanger, of course, which I never did).

But I have to be fair to them. My Church’s meetings were usually filled with the Presence of God, and I have seen people break down in tears just by the sheer sense of that Presence. The people were friendly and helpful, and genuinely cared and ministered to each other and to those outside the Church too. Underneath that surface, yes, there were all the harsh doctrines like hell and judgement, and most of the people there felt entitled to challenge complete strangers if they said something out of line[2]. And remember that just because God graces a church with His Presence, does not mean that He is affirming all their beliefs. Far from it; usually, He actually turns up despite our beliefs. But for the most part (and probably because I kept to all the doctrinal tenets), the church was a pretty safe place for me and my family.

This isn’t always the case, sadly. Some churches can be traumatic places to be, and to be honest I never understood why people carried on going to them[3]. Until I read this piece by legendary Christian musician Don Francisco, in which he describes very clearly why he felt he had to be there every week, and to keep going back to the trauma factory. Over to Don:

“Monday… church recovery day. That’s how it used to be for me, except sometimes it was worse: It could take most of the week for me to heal after hearing what was taught in song and sermon on Sunday.

“Why would I keep going back? Because I’d been taught that going to church was necessary to please God; I’d attended since I was born. The Bible commanded it: “Do not forsake the assembling of yourselves together…”

“So, what exactly did I need to heal from? Fear, guilt, and self-hate… just to name the Big Three. Fear of a god who punished in ways that would appall a sociopath; guilt from every real and imagined sin in recent memory; and knowing that my heart was untrustworthy and “desperately wicked”…

“It didn’t really matter what denomination the church was, or if the preacher was a kind person or not; the bottom line was still this: God was angry at sin, and my only hope was to hide my sinful self behind Jesus.

“For those in varying degrees of recovery today, I have some advice for you: Like Paul the apostle did, consider all that religious stuff dung. Yep, that’s right: Bullshit.

“God is not angry with you; He is love. He became a human to prove it, calling us brothers and friends, forgiving us at our worst when we murdered Him. Today, we can each hear the Spirit speak words of love and support if we’ll listen.

” ‘Come to me, all of you who struggle beneath religion’s heavy load, and I will give you rest. Walk with me and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you shall find rest for your souls.’ And freedom from fear, guilt, and self-hate…”

– Don Francisco

Here’s the link to the original post on Don’s Facebook page

Need I add more? If you’re at a church like that, well, my first action would be to get out of there, but that depends on what Father is calling you to do. The loving Heavenly Father, of course, not the nasty, radgy god that your church may be preaching. But the main thing is to seek Jesus, in whatever way works for you, and find your comfort and acceptance there.

Don’t get me wrong: not all churches are ‘trauma factories’. Far from it. Most of them are places of healing, friendship and, above all, the Presence of God. But the purpose of this blog post is to highlight, for people in such a harmful church, that there are churches out there where good is done, rather than horror. Churches where Jesus is preached, rather than conformity to the leadership’s whims.

Concerning matters of faith, I used to say ‘one size doesn’t fit all’. But in the case of Jesus, it actually does. Jesus does indeed fit all, even if His Church doesn’t. He loves who you are, He loves you right where you are, right as you are, and does not ask you to change except where you want to change.

I think that’s marvellous, don’t you? Now that’s a God I can love!

 

Footnotes

Footnotes
⇧1 Nowadays, I still have to enforce in myself a ‘day of rest’ because I am a full-time carer for an ill relative. This means that, essentially, I just never stop. And so I have to make myself stop; I make myself do no work at all on a Sunday – Sunday being the best day for me, not for any religiously-significant reason, but simply because the shops and other businesses like phone lines and things are closed on a Sunday. It means I am more likely to get things done on other days in the week when there will be people to talk to on the phone, emails will be replied to, and so on.
⇧2 For me, many of the people were complete strangers, except for my group of closer friends. This is the way friendship groups work, of course. But the thing with being at the front is that everyone feels they already actually do ‘know’ you, even if they don’t. And in a church of 300 people, most people fall into that latter category 😉
⇧3 For a good example of a church I would never want to be in, go to YouTube and search for ‘Mark Driscoll God Hates You’. I will not befoul my blog with a link to that deadly rubbish
(deadly in that it brings death of the spirit within; it’s spiritual abuse). Even thinking about that makes my blood boil, and injures my gentle pastor’s heart.

Crumbs of Wisdom

Quotations, Insights

Here is another collection of wisdom quotes, along with some beautiful prose snippets, from various sources. Enjoy!

Of course, maybe it was […] pure chance. I find this unlikely, however. Chance is never pure.

– Iain M. Banks, Transition

The Heavenly scene is umbilically related to the earthly

– Tom Wright, Revelation for Everyone

[Nicodemus] “So you would place limits on the Almighty?”

[Shmuel] “None that are not written in Law”

“And so, if God did something that you felt contradicted Torah, would you tell Him to get back in that….box that you have carved for Him? Or, would you question the interpretation of the Torah?”

“When I was a student, I knew all of your sayings. I read every word you wrote. Your teachings were so sturdy; so reasoned, and pure”.

“We are still students, Shmuel! All of us! Our understanding will never be complete!”

“It frightens me that I can no longer predict your rulings….”

“And fear alone ensures we remain ignorant. Asleep in the safety of rigid tradition!”

– Nicodemus talking to the Pharisee, Shmuel, The Chosen S1 Ep.6

The thing that annoys me most is the hypocrisy and goalpost-moving of the God crowd. They beat people over the head with their Rulebook, and they themselves ignore the parts of it that don’t agree with their actions. A friend once told me that the Church is at the same time the best, and also the worst, witness for Christ that there is. I would agree with the second descriptor, not so much the first. It also makes me think that some of these people have been following, and indeed inventing, a counterfeit faith. This is what happens when the unclean put on the clothes of the righteous. Their outer apparel makes no difference; you can still smell what they really are..

– Me

I do wonder if the idea of the Holy Spirit ‘convicting’ a believer of ‘sin’ is a bit of a false concept. The idea comes from John 16:8, where Jesus says that the Spirit will convict the world of sin, judgment and righteousness. Note that He said the world – that is, in Christian (or, at least, Evangelical) thought, everyone who is not a Christian – but He didn’t mention the believer. So, does the Spirit actually convict a believer? I don’t believe He does. Sure, it’s common and generally-understood parlance in Christian circles to refer to being ‘convicted’ by the Holy Spirit, but I strongly suspect that the condemnation inflicted on believers by others, and indeed by the believers’ own consciences, have been conflated with this idea of the Spirit’s gentle promptings on things. There’s a huge difference between the gentle Voice of the Spirit and the voice of the accuser – whether that’s an actual ontological being or simply a person’s own conscience.

– Me

The Squadron Commander held forth with a pint tankard in his hand, the floor temporarily his: seniority did not necessarily obtain the attention of an assertive bunch of young men who did almost every week what the Light Brigade did once and once only.

– Richard Townshend Bickers, Panther Squadron – the quote takes place in a fighter pilots’ briefing room during WWII

Prayer is God’s way of empowering the powerless

– Me

Brake on … rev up … let her go and the exhilarating punch in the back, the surge down the runway with the needle on the air speed indicator moving rapidly around the dial. Lift off, wheels up … clonk-onk … the oppressive heat at once swept aside by the rush of wind past the open canopy. The familiar blizzard of impressions. The narcotic intensity of knowing that anything might happen before you put your wheels down safely on the ground again. The slow, rhythmical unfolding of the landscape as you climbed. The cumulative, incantatory power of the roaring engine a few feet in front of you. All the mesmeric, fascinating characteristics of flight, the freedom of the air.

– Richard Townshend Bickers, Panther Squadron

I went down to the crossroad and made a deal with a man that I liked very much. He told me that in exchange for my thin watery soul he would put me in a position where I could create the misery that I dread for myself. I could inflict that misery onto people who are the least of Jesus’ brothers and sisters. I would feel powerful and get money, neither of which I deserve. It was an offer I could not refuse. I wasn’t using that weak and pitiful soul anyway.

Thanks, Satan!!

– Blog post by ‘Jeff’, referring to a particularly soulless public servant in America. That’s all I’m saying.

Linked with that loss of joy, you [certain Christians of a serious and miserable persuasion] will likely also have lost your sense of humour, partially because you have to be selective about what you allow yourself to find as funny, and also because laughter needs some sort of joy to fuel it – and your joy tanks are dry.

– Me

If [a certain famous and powerful public figure] was any less self-aware, he wouldn’t be able to see his own reflection in the mirror

– Brian Taylor Cohen

Most church leadership is about getting people to do what God isn’t actually calling them to do.

– Me

Home is the place where, when you get there, they have to take you in

– Robin Frost

Despite these foul people (Yes, indeed, charlatans! These people are of the synagogue of Satan; those who claim to be [believers] though they are not… (Rev 3:9)) stealing and polluting the name of my faith, I will still call myself a Christian. This is my name; my birthright. I know who I am in Christ and these thieves are not taking from me the right to bear that Name. ‘Christian’ means ‘Little Christ’, and that’s what I am. And I always will be.

– Me, commenting on corrupt people who name themselves ‘Christians’ for political purposes.

Yes but your idea is greater than your self-doubt

– Anon

Doing ‘works of faith’ in the Kingdom of God is not about numbers; it’s about calling. Whereas the world’s emphasis is to be ‘seen to be doing’, the Kingdom’s emphasis is actually to not be seen doing anything

– Me

[In our group] there are no tricks, no half-measures, no false promises, no crossed fingers when it comes to our welcome, affirmation, and celebration of LGBTQ+ people. We affirm the LGBTQ community in all its variations, colors, identities, and expressions.

– The Faith Community https://thefaithcommunity.org/about

If the Bible is absolute authority, then it would not need people to tell us that it is. Because what happens then is that the authority you are believing is the person who tells you that the Bible is absolute authority. Therefore, if the Bible needs their authority to validate the Bible’s authority, then it is not the absolute authority, the person telling you is.

– Me

What if deconstruction is sometimes less about losing God and more about losing an image of God that was too small?

– James Pence

Solid doctrines don’t really have a place when God is constantly moving; concrete foundations are not very mobile.

– Me

Here’s [a truth] I know will unravel a whole web of lies: God is good and I am good with God.

– Debbie

[And] what butterfly ever benefitted from taking flying lessons from caterpillars? Not wanting to sound arrogant but they [people in most churches] have nothing to teach me. I can still learn from them, but not from what they teach – there is a subtle difference.

– Me

“More than 40,000 Protestant sects (e.g. INC, ADD, BAC, SDA, Mormon, JWs etc.) all believe that the Bible is the only and single truth of God, and yet they all contradict each other with that very same Bible.

“So how can a single truth written within that one Bible create thousands of different opposing and contradicting doctrines? Could it be that man personally interprets the Bible and create his own new ‘truths’?”

That is very much the case. For me, I rationalise it by thinking about how God meets each individual where they are at, and speaks to each individual in a way that they themselves need to hear Him. That same Bible can help with that. The problem comes when people try to apply what God has spoken to them, personally, to others as if one size fits all. Because it doesn’t!

– Anon

Autism is one reason why I love cooking so much. And working (well, now retired…) in a chemistry lab, which amounts to the same thing. Attention to detail, timings, ingredients, weights, methods…it’s all there and I love it. Plus, unlike in a chemistry lab, you get to eat the results!

– Me

A woman told me she found our church because she Googled “church that won’t make me feel like garbage.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Maybe both?

– Beau Stringer

[Hard-hearted] people, like the legalists in Matthew 12:22-32, miss out on what Jesus is doing because they are so convinced that they are more right than He is.

– Me

Faith doesn’t mean that we’re able to explain suffering. Faith means that we can survive it without losing hope.

– James Pence

“You are allowed to examine ideas. You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to believe differently—or not believe at all—without surrendering your integrity, principles, compassion, or capacity for goodness.”

— Lloyd Evans

The White Throne Judgment – Reblog

Insights, Ministry, Reblogs
This entry is part 30 of 35 in the series The Problems of Evangelicalism

As my regular readers will be fully aware, I really detest the way in which fearmongering is used by vicious church leadership in order to keep their ‘flock’ in line. Fear of any kind has no place in a believer’s life. The most common phrase in the Bible[1] is ‘Do not be afraid. That has to mean something! But of course it is conveniently and deliberately forgotten by manipulative pastors using fear as a control tool. And in no place is the fear tool more used than in end-times and afterlife threats. You know, they threaten people with ‘hell’; with a ‘great tribulation’; being ‘Left Behind’ at the Rapture, and all that sort of thing.[2] Probably the most fear-filled aspect of these ideas, for most people including unbelievers as well as Christians, is the idea of the ‘Final Judgment’. This has, of course, been gleefully adopted by fear-mongering control-freak ‘christian’ leaders all around the world. The general impression I get (and I admit that I myself once loosely held!) is that every person’s life – especially, of course, featuring the bits you’d rather no-one else saw! – will be projected in full glory on some giant heavenly screen for everyone to see and judge you for, never mind God’s judgment on top of it! And so that’s the misconception I will be addressing in this post. Granted, it’s not entirely Evangelical theology that holds this stuff as a doctrine, but as part of Evangelicalism’s toolkit of abuse, it is of course widely used and abused to damage people. And that’s why this reblog is in the ‘Problems of Evangelicalism’ series. Here we go:

“I wish that it wasn’t called “The White Throne Judgement” the way it describes it. The way it’s been described.
“We each stand before God. Who weighs every thing we have done in life. And determines our reward.
“It sounds terrifying. To be before everyone. And have them see my life. To be on display.
“And the word judgement just seems so ominous.
“It makes me scared. Like nothing. No matter how hard I try here on earth. There will be nothing besides disappointment”.

The above is a quotation from a very worried Christian lady, writing it as a post in a Facebook group I am in. And this present piece is intended to encourage any who find themselves in a similar place with regards to worry about any future judgment[3]. There is a concept in some Christian circles called the ‘Great White Throne’ Judgment. It’s based on the passage in Revelation 20:11ff which says, “Then I saw a large white throne and the one who was seated on it; the earth and the heaven fled from his presence, and no place was found for them. And I saw the dead, the great and the small, standing before the throne. Then books were opened, and another book was opened—the book of life. So the dead were judged by what was written in the books, according to their deeds”. And it goes on to say that anyone whose name was not found in the Lamb’s Book of Life, etc. etc. will be thrown into the ‘lake of fire’. Or something. To give just one illustration of how many unfounded doctrines are based on this section of Scripture, let’s just consider this one point: that there are some who say that this judgment is only for unbelievers. Well, in its defence, the passage does not say this at all, nor do the following verses; quite the opposite in fact, if you study them correctly. So straight away we can see that the passage, and its modern interpretation, is not only very dangerous in terms of emotional health, but it also has the potential for massive misinterpretation by believers of all flavours. And I won’t even give them the benefit of the doubt and say they are ‘well-meaning’ believers, either, because usually their objective is to instill fear in their readers/listeners. Which, when we are dealing with a God of Love (1Jn4:8b), in Whom there is no darkness (1Jn1:5), and Whose perfect Love drives out fear, (1Jn4:18) has to be a non-starter. So.

Let’s just say that I noticed the cry of distress in my sister’s Facebook posting and, amongst other gentle-hearted believers, I too tried to add my version of comfort to the help she was being given.

Here was my first response: “I make light of the White Throne Judgment for two reasons: 1) It is an exaggeration made up by vicious people who want Christians to live in fear, extrapolated from a single, obscure verse (Rev 20:11ff) in the most obscure book of the Bible*, and 2) A great white throne is actually a toilet[4], so I really can’t take it seriously like, ever. *Regarding Revelation, I was made aware of this caveat by a friend on FB (whom I am still badgering for the original reference): ‘[The early church fathers, when considering whether to include the book of Revelation into the canon], decided NOT TO DO IT without the following strict conditions: 1) It was not to be used for any major doctrine or in any liturgy of the church; 2) It did not have the canonical authority of the other New Testament writings; and 3) It was never to be taken literally in any way, but only metaphorically, as an encouragement for Christians about to undergo major persecution and bloodshed’.[5] “Whether or not this information is apocryphal, I do think it is a reasonable way of interpreting any passage in Revelation, especially since it is obviously written in an Apocalyptic style which means it is essentially a cryptic message written for those who were originally to receive it. And they would have understood the cryptic meaning. For us, nearly 2,000 years later, any exegesis of the book must at least take that factor into account and, bringing us back to that original quote, our application of the book must be done with that in mind. Note that I am not suggesting, even for a microsecond, that Revelation should not be in the canon; far from it. But, to me, those three principles, supposedly given by the early Church Fathers, should be borne in mind. Especially since this is the only book in the canon where we find almost blasphemous caricatures of Jesus, and his purported horrific end-time activities, that do not fit even slightly with the rest of the New Testament’s accounts of Him”.

I also wrote this in a separate comment, after further pondering: “There is no Scripture that says that your entire life will be played back in IMAX quality for everyone to see. Fearmongering preachers have tried to twist Jesus’s words about ‘nothing shall remain hidden’ in order to scare people into thinking this…could I suggest that ‘by their fruits you shall know them’? If those thoughts are causing you worry and sadness and fear, then those thoughts are not from God? Therefore, the people who put them there were not speaking words from God. As a believing Christian for whom Jesus died and dealt with your ‘sin’, could it be that those sins have been removed forever, as far as the east is from the west, and that God shall ‘remember your sins no more’? Yes! That’s all true! Why should you live in fear, which perfect love casts out? Why let the curse laid on you all those years ago, by those fear-selling preachers, why let it dominate your life now? Walk free of it, sister. The part in Hebrews 12:1, where it refers to the ‘sin that so easily entangles’, well I believe that this passage is referring to the entanglement caused by the constant fretting and worrying about ‘sin’; ‘Did I do something wrong today?’ and so on[6]. You are allowed, nay, you are required to throw off that worrying about ‘sin’. Let not the sin-police take away your peace. Don’t listen to the accuser, who also wants to steal, kill and destroy: Steal your peace, kill your joy, and destroy your freedom. Don’t listen to him”.

And I think there is a lot more to be said, too, but I didn’t say it. Instead, let me finish by quoting another dear sister on that thread who was equally encouraging, but from a different angle:

“I am curious, what are you basing the idea that everyone would see all that [having the life on display].

I have pondered that moment a lot. But never put that angle on it. I tend to think we cannot fully project what that will be. I usually project it as me before God, & it’s my mind/soul that is enlightened, & sees myself fully as God always has. A major paradigm shift that is not possible here in this life.
 
If I do ponder other souls present in heaven I recall that they will also have been changed by seeing themselves & by extension others as God sees them. None of us will have our limited prejudices we do now. I think humility would be the overriding attitude of all in the Kingdom of Heaven. Pride, & our limited knowledge really does prejudice & limit everyone’s thinking & perspectives here. That won’t be an issue there. Whatever people do see & know would be tempered by seeing themselves & their own life in God’s view.
I my life experience the more clearly I see myself in truth that helps me be more empathetic with others shortcomings.
 
But again I have my doubts others would be so privy to our own judgment before God. I would rather not know all that about everyone. I just have a hard time believing that shame or guilt lasts long in the presence of God. It would be quickly consumed leaving redemption & love in its place. I do want to build up unconditional love, goodness, all the fruit of the Spirit in myself because I think that is what survives before the all consuming presence of God. I pretty much know I will not perfect that in this life.
 
So many people for centuries have tried to control others by using guilt & shame to attempt to control behavior. I see that as a failing in the Church. It is a failing that many of the best theologians have discussed throughout time. Some Prophets & Rabbis even before Christ had a glimpse of this truth.
 
I believe there has been this “Continuing Grace of the Gospel of Jesus Christ” in play since he was physically here. There is always this controlling element out there pushing to bring condemnation back onto us. Then there is another element that pushes us to grow past that attitude & live with God in full control in our hearts. That pushes for more freedom of the believer. It goes back & forth, but for instance look at how much & how incredibly brutal the Ancient World was in the use of capital punishment. Not just death but torturous death on the idea of setting fear of punishment onto people.
 
Statistically today we have hard data that corporal punishment is not an effective deterrent. Reform, treatment for mental & behavioral health & retraining has a stronger effect, but there is no perfect system certainly not yet.
 
I think shame & laying guilt into others is highly ineffective as it never deals with the cause. But we are surrounded by control freaks who believe heavily in it. True guilt when we have it, tends to motivate us to change. We might struggle with that in the process. Shame always gets in the way of real growth & repentance. God is more interested in true guilt. Evil wants us mired in shame & feeling incapable of change. This is not direct onto the specific topic of our judgement. But this issue of shame versus true clear guilt plays into how we tend to see that Judgement.
 
People put shame onto us for being different, for things they perceive as flaws, but every flaw has a flip side that is a strength to it that needs redirected. Often people shame us for things that are not a flaw at all. It’s just something they are ignorant about as a rule.
 
My goal for 3 decades now has been to throw off shame & false guilt laid on me by other people. I have found many aspects of myself that either need treatment or support, but with treatment & support have strength that has always been there. But for a good portion of my life I felt shame about my strengths because they were different than the expected norms. That is not my fault. That is societies ignorance in play. If people persist in ignorance once something like the autism spectrum is concerned they are in the wrong.
 
I am still intimidated at the idea of standing before an all-knowing God. But my confidence in how he loves me, made me with strengths & even delights in me at times has been mostly growing deeper & stronger.
 
I do go through tough times that really test that a lot. But often come out understanding God’s perspective better & his perspective is just a relief once I grasp it than what I projected it to be. I think wherever I am at the moment in that process the judgement will be more of a stripping away of things that have weighed me down, & a healing. More like a diagnosis & treatment for my soul.”
 

Wow. Well, that’s a lot to think about and take on board, so I’ll leave it there. But I sincerely hope that this piece has encouraged you, especially if you were in any way in fear of judgment. There is no room for fear in the Gospel; none at all. Walk free of it!

Grace and Peace to you

Footnotes

Footnotes
⇧1 After the word ‘begat’, anyway!
⇧2 I actually enjoyed reading the ‘Left Behind’ series of books, if I’m honest, although I didn’t believe it one bit! And there are passages (I won’t spoil it!) which are ludicrous in the extreme…some of which in fact permanently changed my opinion of Rapture and parousia (Second Coming) theology away from the standard Evangelical norm, if indeed there is such a thing; so many different end-time theories being held all across Christianity as they are!
⇧3 I believe that the ‘Judgment of God’ that the Bible speaks of is actually a Heavenly judgment of restoration and relationship, not one of wrath and punishment.
⇧4 Hence, my use of a toilet for the header image for this post. Well, I think it’s funny, at least 😉
⇧5 I have quoted this before, in my article ‘Apocalypse‘
⇧6 I once preached a sermon on this very topic; the reference is here

Dear White Evangelical Church: This is Why You’re Dying

Insights, Others' stuff
This entry is part 29 of 35 in the series The Problems of Evangelicalism

Here is a profound essay by the brilliant John Pavlovitz, which mirrors closely what I have been saying recently in my work over the last year or so. It especially reflects some of the thinking and the points I made in my recent piece, ‘I Was a Stranger‘.

While some of John’s points are more related to the Evangelical church in the USA – for example, he mentions a President, and we don’t have any of those over on this side of the pond! – still it is worth sharing in its entirety because a) people all over the world will read this, and b) the UK Evangelical church has always had political intentions[1] and I can easily predict that UK Evangelicalism will copy its USA relatives – they always copy others – and I can already see signs of this happening.

I have not shared this with the intention of it being a political piece, except in that it indirectly highlights[2] my assertion that the Kingdom of God is not of this world and that Christians can live above and beyond the considerations of mere worldly power. I wrote about that point of view in the essay linked to here. As I have said in previous essays, I do not discuss politics on this blog. At the same time, however, I did not want to detract from the power of John’s words by breaking his flow or his logic processes. He’s a passionate man with a passionate message, and he deserves to have it published unabridged. Some of what John writes about is indeed leaking over into politics, and that’s unsurprising because the thinking of a righteous person who has the mind of Christ (1Cor2:16) will naturally rail against the systems of the world that lack righteousness[3].

Over to John:


Dear White Evangelical Church,
I have some good news and some bad news.
The bad news is you’re dying.

If you’re paying attention, you’ve probably noticed the symptoms.

Your buildings are slowly clearing, your pews gradually emptying, your congregations visibly aging away, your voice carrying less resonance than it used to.

The reasons for this are complicated and interconnected, but here are a few broad strokes:

You’re dying because of your hypocrisy.

People see the ever-widening chasm between who you say you are and what they regularly experience in your presence.
They see the great disparity between the expansive hospitality of Jesus and the narrow prejudice you are so often marked by.
They see Christ’s deep affection for the poor, hurting, and marginalized, and either your quiet indifference or your open hostility toward them.
They’ve listened to you preach incessantly about the immorality of the world, the dangers of greed, the corrupt nature of power, the poison of untruth, the evils of sexual perversion—and watched you willingly align with politicians embodying all of these.
They see that you are so often the very kind of malevolent ugliness that you forever warned was coming to assail the world.

You’re dying because of your wilful ignorance.

People are tired of your war on Science.
They are sick of your arguing with Biology.
They are exhausted by your attacks on women.
They are disgusted by your justifications of racism.
They despise your narcissistic nationalism.
They know the Earth is round.
They know it is billions, not thousands of years old.
They know dinosaurs walked it.
They know that it is warming rapidly.
They know people here don’t choose their sexuality or deserve their poverty.
They know whoever and whatever God doesn’t appoint Presidents or hand out weapons or attack people with tornadoes.

You’re dying because of your devotion to cruelty.

People watch you dig in your heels against others because of their gender identity and their sexual orientation; the way you continually exact violence upon them, the way you try to blame God and the Bible for your mindless bigotry.
They’ve seen your intolerance to other religious traditions: how you vilify anyone who finds spirituality and meaning outside of your precise expression of Christianity, how you so easily disregard the faith stories of those who don’t mirror your own.
They’ve watched you so revel in being the bully to those you were originally called to protect.

You’re dying because of your complicity in violence.

Good people have seen you so often be a haven for misogynists, domestic abusers, sexual predators, and white supremacists, who more often receive protection rather than condemnation.
They’ve heard your explicit silence in the face of a brutal and rising flood of open racism, of hostility toward immigrants, of anti-Semitism, of attacks on Asian people and Muslims.
They see your pastors and leaders misuse their positions and leverage their influence to victimize the most vulnerable and make them scapegoats for discrimination.
They’ve watched you be the last, hateful holdout in matters of gender equality, racial diversity, sexuality, and theological difference; lagging behind almost everyone in the world in the kind of goodness you say you aspire to.

It’s easy to be fooled into believing you’re well because you have the political power of a presidency behind you, because you can temporarily impose your will on this nation. But this frantic flurry of cruelty is actually the death rattle of a doomed and dying thing. The empty bombast and blinding lights of your megachurches are a hollow rally that may momentarily anesthetize you, but they cannot stave off what is coming.

Yes, Evangelical Church, the bad news is that you’re slowly but surely expiring as you are now.

The good news is that in your passing, something else is being born.

Rising in these days is a sprawling movement of disparate people, not bound by denomination or tradition or nation, who want to create something redemptive and life-giving here, who don’t care what it’s called, who gets the credit, or what building it happens in.

Its makers are conscientious objectors in your unending holy wars, choosing to step away from you in order to create loving spiritual communities, grow deeper in personal faith, escape tribal partisan politics, craft a healthier planet, reflect the character of Jesus, and hold onto their souls.

These newly emancipated sojourners are creating something of compassion and generosity and hospitality; a radically inclusive faith that opens the table, a spirituality that welcomes the world, a religion that does no harm: a working theology of love. These open-hearted human beings are unearthing the beauty buried beneath heavy layers of rigid dogma, ornamental religion, and institutionalized discrimination.

The soul is leaving a body that no longer serves it, and you are that body.

The bad news for you, White Evangelical Church, is that you are certainly dying.

And it’s very good news for the rest of us and for a Jesus you have long ago murdered in your midst.

Here’s the link to the original piece.

Footnotes

Footnotes
⇧1 They want to influence society
⇧2 For those who have the eyes to see it, and the ears to hear it, anyway!
⇧3 This is very different from how Evangelicalism want to influence society; their ultimate political aim (although some of them won’t realise this) is at its end a society which is a theocracy; a society run by nutcase Evangelical leaders who believe they’re doing god’s will (and ruling on his behalf!) by imposing their version of ‘god’s’ rules and laws onto its citizens. This would be a completely evil outcome.

A Dark Testimony VII – The ‘Bad Apple’ Vicars

Insights, Others' stuff, Asperger's/Autism
This entry is part 28 of 35 in the series The Problems of Evangelicalism
A story of deliberately dishonest leadership in the Church of England

My last church was a Church of England (CofE) church, and I never had any major problems there.

However, my friend’s experience in ‘their’ CofE church was very different. They have written up their story for inclusion in my blog as a ‘guest post’, and I thank them for both their efforts and their courage in doing so. And they want to remain anonymous – fine by me! – and I am honoured to present my friend’s story below.

I’m not going to comment on the story[1].  I don’t think I’ll need to.

Right, that’s all from me; over to my friend:

My experience at the hands of a charismatic evangelical Anglican church, and its leadership.

I should preface this by saying that I am autistic – and although I have only known this for a couple of years, that isn’t to say that I have only been autistic for a couple of years; autism is a life-long condition. In common with many (or probably most) autistics, I was horribly bullied at school – simply because I was ‘different’ (in ways I shan’t waste time explaining here and now – the differences are, at most, only peripherally relevant to this tale). Those who were, in effect, ‘in loco parentis’ during the school day signally failed (with a few notable exceptions) to discharge their duty of care towards me; indeed, a few colluded and even, on occasion, joined in. My own mother decided, with no evidence whatsoever, that the reason I was bullied was that I wasn’t tough enough. So she decided that she would toughen me up. YAY!! Great stuff, I was bullied at home as well as at school. It should come as no surprise that I finished my school career pretty badly damaged, and with a complete distrust of authority figures.

During my last year of school, I ‘gave my life to Christ’ and became an evangelical Christian, thanks to a person who became a dear, dear, friend. I absolutely don’t hold her responsible, in any way, for the things which I shall describe below – she has never been anything other than a true ‘Follower of the Way’ (of Jesus Christ), and always loved me unconditionally, as who I was, rather than as a ‘project’ or someone who needed to be ‘fixed’.

Even so, it took me more than thirty years to learn to trust anyone enough to share the secrets of my abused past. That I did, eventually, ‘get there’ was down to the patience and care of very good (church) friends, who were consistent and ever-faithful in their love.

So that’s a bit of background, which may serve to illustrate why what I describe below was so devastating – when it may seem quite trivial if read without the above caveat.

Several years ago, the Anglican church I belonged to at the time ran the ‘Living in Love and Faith’ course, alongside most of the rest of the Church of England. It was billed as a conversation around the topic of whether or not LGBTQIA+[2] people could fully belong to the church, and receive all the sacraments (including marriage). Cutting a long story short, our particular course started out as a conversation, but once the leadership discovered that most people on the course disagreed with their ‘conservative’ (reactionary?) stance on the topic, and were far more ‘liberal’ and ‘inclusive’ than the leadership wanted them to be, it began to be turned into some very heavy, uncompromising, and essentially ‘tone deaf’ teaching (I’m not sure teaching is the right word to use – hectoring might better suit what happened). Things were done, during the official sessions, to try to ‘colour’ the result – in direct contravention of the ‘rules’ under which the course was meant to be run.

The course culminated in an extra session which the vicar tacked on to the end of the course, ostensibly so that we could ‘discuss’ where ‘our’ church was going to land on this particular topic. When we all arrived, we were surprised to find that the doors (two sets of double doors) had been wedged open (which was definitely not how they’d been on any other evening). The first thing the vicar told us was that the doors were open because if any of us disagreed with anything he said it would make it easy for us to leave – ‘other churches are available’ being his exact words, reeling off a list of churches he thought might suit us better.

He then proceeded to harangue us with his interpretation of the situation – riding roughshod over the careful groundwork the course had laid, starting by expounding the Church of England’s definition of marriage, and carrying on to tell us exactly what the (English) Bible has to say about homosexuality (and telling us to ignore anyone who cast any doubt upon the correctness of the English version he’d chosen). Faces across the room became gradually stonier – from ordinary folk through to eminent theologians who work at the university. Eventually, he wound up.

The curate completely misread the room, and launched into a fulsome vote of thanks. There was a little desultory applause – from probably a fifth of the room; and a lot of upset and very angry faces. I had, over the course of several years, worked hard to learn Ancient Greek, so as to be able to understand the scriptures in one of their original languages; I’d also made a particular study of the verses of scripture which (so-called) theological conservatives used to deny membership of God’s kingdom to those who were LGBTQIA+. I had become convinced that actually, there was nothing in scripture which could possibly preclude their being full members of the church – indeed, if they couldn’t be members, then neither could anyone else! Being told I was wrong, so vociferously, by someone who I knew was only parroting what he’d been taught, hurt. It was easy to understand the naked anger of the academic theologians in the room, whose hard-won professional opinions had been dismissed over the course of a few minutes by sheer ignorance.

Afterwards, over the next days and weeks there was a steady queue of people making appointments to see him, to tell him why they thought he was wrong, and also to protest at the way he had treated us; that queue included me. When it came my turn, he flatly denied having wedged the doors open, or that he’d suggested any of us leave, or that he had harangued us with his interpretation. He suggested that I had misremembered not only the tone but that facts of what had happened and what he’d said. So passionate and definite was he that I began to doubt my memory of the event.

I met one of the theologians the next day for our regular fortnightly coffee date, and he asked how it had gone. I told him, and he assured me that my memory of the events was well-nigh perfect – and that what the vicar had tried to do to me was classic gaslighting.

Bear in mind here that the first ‘authority figure’ I ever really trusted was a clergyman (it took decades before I shared any details of the abuse I was subjected to as a child with anyone, let alone anyone in authority), and you might get an inkling of the sheer devastation caused by the revelation that I’d been gaslit by my vicar – a man I’d worked alongside closely (as one of his churchwardens) for six years and had learned to trust.

That vicar left, not long after – ‘shuffled sideways’ by the bishop into a role which kept him away from public ministry – the volume of complaints about him had proved too much for even the ‘tone deaf’ functionaries at the diocese.

His replacement was said to be a very ‘pastoral-minded’ man (which was what we all felt the church needed after the earlier debacle). All seemed well, for a few months, and once I felt I might be able to trust him, I made an appointment and told him about my previous experiences. He listened, expressed sympathy, and assured me that he was open-minded and that he wouldn’t hold any of my ‘less conventional’ views against me – in fact he was rethinking a lot of stuff himself, having a sister who had recently ‘come out’. So that all seemed fine.

We run a group for a bunch of students – they come round every Wednesday during term times (and those who’re here year round come every week whether it’s term-time or not); we feed them, listen to their woes, and hold open-ended, open-minded, theological discussions in which ‘anything goes’; it’s all run on ‘Las Vegas Rules’ – i.e. what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas; to our pretty certain knowledge, everyone has always respected those rules.

The vicar sent a message to tell us that he needed to see us urgently. When we met, he revealed that ‘one of the students’ had complained that we were teaching them heresy during the discussions. He wouldn’t tell us who’d complained nor exactly what they’d actually complained about, but that we had to stop doing it, or he’d stop us running the group (how the heck were we meant to stop doing something when he wouldn’t tell us what the something was?). We would meet again to review it in a couple of weeks when we’d had time to repent and rethink what we’d been doing – oh, and from then on we’d have to follow strictly a programme of discipleship he would set…

Because, after all, he was responsible for what was taught in his church and he would have to stand before God on Judgement Day and explain why he’d allowed heresy to be taught in his church. (And this is one reason amongst many why I don’t agree with the idea of an ordained priesthood. Maybe I’ll talk more about that another time!)

We were hurt and confused. We tried really hard, over the following weeks, to work out what the complaint might have been, and who might have made it – so as to at least try to meet his demands. Our conclusion was that, in the absence of any evidence, and knowing ‘our’ students as well as we do, actually, he was making it up, for reasons best known to himself!!

When the time came for the second meeting with him, we insisted on there being an independent witness present; we’ve known one of the current churchwardens for four decades or so, and trust her; happily she agreed to be present. In the face of this ‘witness’, his tune changed and he ‘backed down’ almost entirely from his previous stance – he didn’t go as far as admitting that there hadn’t been a complaint, but he might as well have done.

But I can’t trust him any more… Despite his best efforts to be friendly and ‘open’, I’m not playing his game… I’m keeping my distance, and not falling for his ‘niceness’ – I know it’s an act – all he’s interested in is having power over others, and in building his pathetic little empire of sycophants. I remain unsure of where I stand, and not a little hurt. I’ve more or less stopped attending – unless someone we know is being baptised, or something like that. We’re still running a group for students – but almost entirely independent of the church’s scrutiny; recruitment isn’t a problem – ‘our’ students bring more students, who become ‘our’ students in turn.

A short time later, that same clergyman also ‘received’ (or so he said) an allegation of ‘inappropriate sexual behaviour’ against someone who, as a student, had been part of our group, and had stayed in the area and become a close friend. He was henceforth banned from all ‘ministry’ (even from serving on the tech team, presumably in case he ‘corrupted’ anyone by the way he changed the words on the projection screens or something). We know our friend; we knew, right from the very first moment, that this accusation had to be false. The situation got really messy, until, eventually, in the face of opposition from our friend and his fiancée, and with us acting as ‘chaperones’ at a meeting, the vicar again backed down.

The very next day, he revealed that ‘the diocese’ had now determined that the allegation was false and there was no case to answer (and no, none of us were allowed to know who’d made the allegation, what it was, what evidence there was, and nor were we ever party to the supposed ‘report’ from the diocese). Nevertheless, our friend would not be allowed to rejoin any church ministries until he had receiving counselling (from the vicar), to educate him on what constitutes ‘appropriate behaviour’. Our friend has since left the church, and wants nothing whatsoever to do with it – and I absolutely support him in that.

Personally, I think it all points to yet another ‘fantasy’ on the part of the vicar, and I don’t suppose he ever reported it to the diocese… He just wanted to exercise control over someone… And who cares whether he hurt them, destroyed their trust, or anything – so long as he had his pathetic little power trip. And I wonder – was the second incident a further attempt to ‘get at’ us, via our friend?

At this point, personally, I have decided to adopt an old saying as my ‘motto’ for dealing with clergy: ‘fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me’.  It’s not happening again – I’ve lost all trust in them.

Fuck the lot of them.

I hurt because the trust in authority which I’d ‘learnt’ over so many decades in the church has gone; I’m angry that clergymen of all people have been the ones to betray my trust; I’m grieving because I’ve effectively lost the family I’ve been part of for over forty years; I’m lost – I don’t know where I belong any more, if I belong anywhere. And all because of the ‘power trips’ of two ‘little Hitlers’.

I’m still passionate about Jesus Christ, and I still count myself as a (rather flawed) ‘Follower of the Way’ (to use the ancient phrase), but I think I would consider being called a Christian insulting, if that’s really what christians are like.

Header image shows a suitably dark picture of York Minster, one of the Church of England’s cathedrals.

Footnotes

Footnotes
⇧1 Except just a single, general, observation regarding my main and ongoing reason for including this essay in my blog series: This kind of disgusting behaviour in churches is exactly why I began this series, and exactly why I will continue to share stories of people doing dreadful things to innocent people, in the very place where, more than anywhere else, individuals should be cared for, honoured, nurtured and above all loved. There is no excuse. These stories need to be put out there!
⇧2 The ‘LGBTQIA+’ acronym means ‘Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer (or questioning), Intersex, Asexual’, and the plus sign refers to other sexualities that are not specifically mentioned in the acronym.