Turn down the volume - I'm getting feedback

Long ago, on a warm summer morning, I was in the midst of preparing for our Sunday worship gathering. This was fairly early into my time at this particular church, so I was still getting to know everybody and coming to understand the particular culture of the church.

A few minutes before the service began, I was cornered by one of the church matriarchs. This is what she told me: "Every Sunday I get up and pray that God won't let you destroy my worship by playing those bongo drums. They're horrible, and they distract us all from worship. You need to stop."

The back story: a month or two prior, we'd been working on a new song, but the rhythm wouldn't gel. The church didn't have a drummer, so it was difficult to lay down a rhythm and get everybody to feel it. To solve the problem, I went down to the local music store and bought a small pair of bongo drums, and used them to help the worship team finally get the beat of this song. And just about everybody seemed to like it.

Except this one particular person. And she didn't just 'not like' those bongos, she detested them and everything they stood for. (as a side note, here's a helpful suggestion: don't criticize people 10 minutes before the worship service starts. That's a guaranteed way to ruin the day for everybody). Later that afternoon I was telling this story to a friend, and in one of my few truly prophetic insights, said "I think she's going to try to get me fired." (She did try. She didn't succeed, but she made my life miserable.)

It's well established that any time you put yourself in the public eye, you invite feedback. Pastors, authors, musicians, celebrities all know - the moment you take on a public persona, you open the door for people to decide they don't like you, and to decide they need to let you know how much they don't like you.

Throw in the fact that pastors deal with such intensely personal issues - religion, belief, soul-work, music preferences, family histories ("we've always sat in that pew!") and it quickly becomes obvious: criticism and flack just go with the territory.

I mean, Jesus had his critics and detractors, right? So why should it be any different for those who attempt/claim to speak for Jesus?

Many of you know I write a bi-monthly column in our local monthly paper. Which puts me even more into the public arena. And I get a lot of positive feedback. I meet people around town who say "Do you write those columns? I really like them!" I've had some wonderful conversations with people who were taken by an article and wanted to talk about it further. Writing that column has been a blessing and a positive experience.

But. . .the first ever article I wrote for the KP News resulted in at least one irate phone call the morning after it was published. I wrote another article calling for civility in political discussion; one woman misunderstood my point and emailed the paper a missive declaring her anger at the way I slandered our president (I hadn't; I was quoting somebody else who had). A recent article musing on the lack of ethnic diversity in our community led to two response letters taking me to task (although, to be honest, one was from a friend of mine who was just having some fun with me).

But now I think we've reached the pinnacle. My article in the August edition has resulted in an angry, dismissive letter to the editor, declaring me a heretic, a neo-gnostic, and unfit for the pulpit in any Christian church. Apparently I'm out of step with orthodox Christianity, and guilty of challenging every doctrine from salvation to sin to creation. And the author of said letter wants the world to know about it.

It's always fun to see your name in print in that context.

I've had quite a few friends jump to my defense via facebook, but truthfully, I'm okay with it. For one, I think feedback is good for both me and the newspaper - it proves people are paying attention, and it probably drives more people to read more closely. Controversy sells, right?

For another, I'm following that classic advice, "consider the source." This particular gentleman wrote a different letter to the editor two years ago after Lakebay Community Church hosted a seminar discussing how Christians ought to relate to Muslims. Since our guest speaker wouldn't say the magic words, "all Muslims are going to hell for all of eternity because they are evil," we were denounced as teaching a false gospel of tolerance, of watering down the Bible, of being false teachers, and, if I remember correctly, I was labelled as unfit for pastoral ministry.

He's done it to many of my friends out here, he's done it to other churches, so I can't take it personally.

Years ago, I heard Jack Hayford give some advice that's always stuck with me. He said, "If you throw a rock into a pack of dogs, the one who barks the loudest is probably the one you hit." If I speak of the grace of God showing up in unexpected ways, and somebody reacts so negatively to that, I can only feel sadness for all the ways they must miss out on experiencing the love of God.

But this isn't so much about this gentleman; if I were to judge him here, I'd be doing the same thing he did. This is really more about responding to criticism. Maybe I'm getting wiser, or maybe I'm becoming more jaded, but it just doesn't bother me all that much any more. Sometimes I listen to the criticism, wondering if maybe there is some truth in there, if there's a lesson to be learned for the next time around. But mostly I realize that there is only One whose feedback is necessary; at the end of it all, I stand before God and answer only to him. At times he's let me know when I've crossed a line, when I've been in the wrong. At other times, I've felt God's affirmation that I'm okay, even if people don't like my bongo playing, or my political opinion, or my distaste for bikini espresso stands. I try each day to please my God, and stand in his grace when I fail.

Still, should there be anybody here still confused about this most recent article and the response, let me state once and for all:

I believe salvation is found in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and nowhere else.

And I also believe God doesn't really mind the bongos.

And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Article

For those of you not in our area: I am the faith columnist for the Key Peninsula News, our local paper. This was my article published in the December edition. It received quite a bit of positive feedback, so here it is for your enjoyment. It was originally entitled "Just Another Article about the Real Meaning of Christmas."

It’s the story of a pregnant teen and her shame in the face of an honor-bound society. Subplots include a government that will stop at nothing – even violence – to maintain control. Throw in economic hardship, lack of affordable housing, and an ill-timed road trip. As for the characters, you have it all – from kings and priests to common day laborers and migrant workers in the field.

Sometimes this is all lost to our modern sensibilities. Christmas has been redefined for us by cute crèches adorning our lawns, by Christmas card watercolors of happy people living happy lives, enjoying their place in this drama. Choirs sing songs of silent nights, of peace, of joy and gladness and festivities as we celebrate this season.

But strip that all away and take another look. It wasn’t a silent night. Childbirth never is. Transport the scene into a dark cave, surrounded by smelly farm animals, and no midwife to be found. You can bet the cattle were, indeed, lowing. A frightened mother giving birth to her first child in the dung; and then, just when she’s ready for a quiet moment, in barge filthy shepherds clamoring about angels. It’s not the most sanitary way to begin a story.

Things take a frightening turn. The local politician, sensing a threat to his power, orders the National Guard to head into town and kill every baby boy. What should have been a celebration with visiting dignitaries turns into a midnight flight, with death nipping at their heels.

This is the story Christians tell at Christmas: a Savior born to shame and poverty, a child bullied by the authorities, a king who shows up in the grimy soil, a messiah whose coming was announced to the outcasts of society.

In the end, it’s our story, yours and mine. We who struggle with shame, who work hard to put food on the table, we who find our lives manipulated by those in power, we who have been hurt by religion and politics and family and so-called friends. We who come home with dirt under our nails and grease stains on our clothes. Who, as the old carol says, find ourselves “beneath life’s crushing load . . . who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow.”

This ancient story surpasses the sanitized store-front display and becomes our story. As the angels declared, this is “good news of great joy for all people.” “All people” includes you and me. And I don’t know about you, but I could use some joy right about now. The world is in desperate need of good news.

And so, this: God showed up, standing in opposition to the slave-traders, the bullies, the religious elite, the violent, the thieves in high places. In so doing, he stands in solidarity with the poor, the marginalized, the broken, the victim, the lonely, the shamed. There you have it: God is on the side of the minimum-wage-earning single father forced to work through the holidays just to feed his kids; he stands against the corporate powers growing rich on the backs of those workers.

If you’re feeling particularly lonely, desperate, sad, used, or angry, then remember this: Christmas is for you. Not the plastic, shop-til-you-drop Christmas of our local malls, but the real Christmas – the story of one who came to be with you in the darkness. Behind the facades of office parties and family gatherings and fake snow and manufactured joy, the real story is a story of hope, a story that gives meaning to the struggles of our lives. We are not alone, but are part of this story. God is on our side. God is with us. Emanuel.

On behalf of the Key Peninsula Ministerial Association, I bid you a truly merry Christmas, and joy in the New Year.

Did you vote? And other Tuesday morning thoughts

As Olivia and I drove up to her school this morning, I saw the "Vote Here" sign out front. I'd almost forgotten there was an election today, since I mailed my ballot off a couple weeks ago.

We didn't even get to vote on what is arguably the biggest issue in the area - the King/Pierce County Transit bill. Billions of dollars in taxes to fund light rail, replace bridges, add new highways, and pour more concrete onto the land.

I read somewhere that, even though we live in Pierce County, we've been exempted from the issue, since everybody over here is already paying for the new Tacoma Narrows bridge.

Seems like politicians made the right call on that one, although it took away from us the privilege of voting on the infamous Proposition 1.

And, of course, there were a couple other contentious issues out there that we did get to vote on, so I'll take satisfaction on that.

One more thought: this means we are now 1 year away from the 2008 presidential election, and, as of right now, I have not a clue who I would vote for, other than perhaps "none of the above."
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My response to the big TV Writer's strike that's making all the headlines: Maybe with all the reruns showing, people will turn off their televisions and do something that is actually productive. Maybe some day we can thank the television writers for helping us to see how meaningless most of television is. Maybe we can thank them for breaking us of the "must-see-tv" addiction.

Wishful thinking, I know. But 20+ months into our TV-free life has got me convinced. We're so much better without it.
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Finally, at the men's breakfast on Saturday we talked about the changing culture around us. I spoke to the fact that we are now in an age when a lot of people truly have no clue what churches do, what they believe, and how they worship. I tried to make the point that we offer a lot for "churched" people, but what to do with the people that wouldn't even think about entering our building, or, if they did, would have no idea why we sing, why we stand and sit, why we pray, why we listen to that guy up front go on and on about the Bible.

Then I read Lori's account of her co-worker who had no clue who Billy Graham is. And had no idea what an evangelist is. Of course, her excuse is classic: "I'm only 26."

I think that story needs to be told at every church revitalization seminar, just to help us get a grasp on how far the divide has opened between church and non-church folks.