Ever since the reversal of Roe v. Wade, I have just felt a sinking in my soul. This has perplexed me because I am pro-life: I do believe that life begins at conception, and I have also volunteered at a crisis pregnancy ministry in their care center. I think that God has given me the burden of so many women who are terrified, indignant, or just angry at the ruling. I know also that this is a pivotal time for the church in the way Christians proceed from this place, and I fear and see that in many ways the response has not been Christ-like and may turn people away from Jesus.

The purpose of this writing is not to argue my position on Roe but to lay out a path for Christians in the light of Roe. The right to an abortion will now be decided by individual states. But the support and care of women in these situations is firmly in the hands of the church…or at least it needs to be.

In church recently, I was blessed to hear the testimonial from a young woman who at age 19 found herself with an unexpected pregnancy. Raised in a church and youth group, she knew that the last place that she could turn was her church as there would be no grace for her there. By the grace of God, she kept the baby with her life forever altered for the better. She cast a vision for how the church in the future could care for mothers in similar situations: Mentorship, grace, and community. Unfortunately, many churches offer none of these and instead focus on the shame. It is not difficult to figure out how Jesus would have responded to an unwed mother in crisis.

I have some first-hand experience with mentorship, grace and community. For 3 years, I volunteered at a crisis pregnancy center in Fayetteville, which is an amazing place, which seeks to support women who make the choice to have their baby. During the pregnancy, women would come to our clinic to watch videos about the birthing process. After pregnancy for 8 months, they would continue to come to learn more about child rearing. As a care counselor, I listened, prayed with our clients, formed relationships with them, and just loved them. Clients earned “mommy bucks” for coming, towards which they could use to purchase diapers and other child-related items that were donated to the cute store on site. Each and every week, we were all witnesses to the transformation of these women through the love of Christ.

There was one client who I was blessed to befriend. She was not married and definitely did not expect her pregnancy. She made the hard decision to keep the baby, separated from a huge group of unhealthy people, and began the process of making her life condusive and healthy to raising a child. After she graduated from our program, we continued to stay in touch. I would receive regular texts from her with questions about her then 1 year old. Sometimes she asked my advice about financial matters. Sometimes she had questions about God. Without question, God used this child to grow this woman up: To clean up her life, help her make better choices, buy a house, and begin down a road of faith. Her parents deceased, she regularly tells me that I am the one person she can count on in this life. It is an honor. She really doesn’t have anyone else pouring into her life except me. I feel like this is what I am called to do as a Christian: Not to lecture and not to shame but to support, love, and encourage.

My church is a financial sponsor of this pregnancy center, and some people choose to volunteer there. But their program often reaches capacity, and the timing on the classes doesn’t always fit people’s schedules. In this post-Roe world, I can imagine that these types of clinics are going to be busier than every. So instead of moping in my post-Roe funk, I have taken some positive steps within my own church to have a conversation about reaching out to women in crisis the way Jesus would. What if my church was where women with unplanned pregnancies came first? What if we could pair women with a mentor for support and to walk along-side them? Could we help women in crisis to find community that would truly transform their lives? Are we qualified or trained? Heavens no. Have we raised our own kids and have a heart for others? Absolutely. And are we willing to shower women with the same grace that we have received in our own lives? The possibilities are limitless.

To me, this is the correct definition of pro-life: Valuing the life of a fetus as we walk along-side and love the new mother and child. Are there other systemic issues that need to be addressed. Absolutely. The list is long from paid maternity leave, affordable child-care, and quality and available childcare. None of these should be political issues, and I call upon Congress as well as the General Assembly to tackle each and every one if them in single-issue bills without other amendments attached. I would venture to say that any politician that opposes abortion but is not willing to make the systemic changes is a hypocrite and does not deserve to have a voice on this issue.

I know that there are many other thorny issues related to abortion such as the life of the mother, rape, and incest. Legislators who have made policy without accurate medical information or considered the social/emotional/financial concerns of new mothers have not made good laws: They have simply imposed their views on others without taking care of women and children the way Christ would have. Furthermore, the dogmatic approach that does not address these issues is generating anger and resentment towards the church and Christians.

In closing, my heart is a little less heavy now that I know what I can do to help. I know that I am called to serve and to love. It is a good place to be. The storm is undoubtedly going to continue to rage around this issue. I am going to do what God has shown me to do, and I would be honored if you would create a movement where you live to support women and children in Arkansas. Arkansans, we are likely to have a bunch more babies in the coming year! Who will be Jesus in the flesh and walk alongside these neighbors. The answer is not someone else’s mirror: It is in your own.

The post Possibilites appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

If you read my first article entitled, “Little Did We Know,” you are aware of how I view the fundamentalist takeover of the Southern Baptist Convention between 1979 and 1990. If you have not, I suggest you do so before continuing with the following. It will help with context. 

The purpose of this piece is to introduce to you the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (CBF). 

Finally admitting that the SBC takeover was complete, and with any thought of progressive Baptists maintaining or reclaiming a place in the denomination having been scuttled, a group of bruised and battered, and now former Southern Baptists, met in Atlanta in 1990 to forge a new identity. And while a new “brand” of Baptists was given birth, raising the child proved not to be so easy.

In advance of CBF’s annual General Assembly in Orlando, Florida in June of 2000, the late Robert Parham wrote an op-ed special to the Orlando Sentinel, a ten-year retrospective. In Robert’s typical, succinct, get-after-it style, he said, “Leading Cooperative Baptist Fellowship members is like herding cats, while leading Southern Baptist Convention folk is akin to driving cattle.” 

And there, my friends, you have the difference.

In truth, under the leadership of Texan Cecil Sherman, the first few years of CBF’s existence were spent largely reacting against what was considered the worst traits of the SBC. . . which, I suppose, given my own retrospective, was natural, if not necessary for these leaders in order to forge a new identity. For example:

In keeping with historic Baptist principles, the fledgling CBF refused to refer to this new entity as a denomination. Hence, the word “Fellowship.” Later, the term “denominetwork” would be introduced, but it never really gained traction. Though Southern Baptists have historically claimed the title of  “convention,” there has never been a felt need to shy away from being referred to as the largest Protestant denomination in the world. In fact, it is a matter of great pride to many. After attending a dozen or so annual convention meetings, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a speaker refer to the great Southern Baptist Convention, I could have retired much earlier than I did! The young CBF would have none of that.

CBF would vow to own no property. The SBC owns six seminaries, now led by those who either were involved in the fundamentalist takeover or were influenced or trained by those who did. Though it has since substantially diminished in size – as have many of the old denominational entities – the SBC still maintains a large publishing concern, sends thousands of missionaries across the globe, and holds sway over individual state conventions. . . what my late friend Robert referred to as the “minor-league teams.” CBF does indeed commission “field personnel,” and has state and regional organizations, but does not control what they do, nor tell them what to say. That has not been entirely true of the SBC.

In 2000, for example, the SBC adopted the revised version of what is called The Baptist Faith and Message, its doctrinal treatise. Prior to that time, any doctrinal document, such as this, was simply a guide to generally-accepted belief. With the advent of a new millennium, and the SBC now firmly in the hands of fundamentalists, that all changed. To remain a SBC missionary, whether national or international, this document had to be signed as an act of loyalty, something that had never, ever been required before. I personally know some who, sadly and with great difficulty, gave up their work rather than give in to such coercion.

CBF would not own agencies but would partner with like-minded institutions and ministries. One of the unforeseen and truly positive results of the SBC-CBF division, at least from my viewpoint, is CBF’s approach to theological education. Rather than own seminaries, which in the SBC operate under controlled and tight theological mandates, CBF has chosen to partner with a number of institutions that have been formed in the last thirty years, many of them affiliated with established universities and educational institutions. There are too many to mention in this piece, but I will give you a few examples: McAfee School of Theology, affiliated with Mercer University in Georgia; Truett Theological, associated with Baylor University; Baptist Seminary of Kentucky on the campus of Georgetown University; Campbell University Divinity School in North Carolina. Notable institutions such as Duke, SMU, and TCU have “Baptist Houses” where they train Baptist students for ministry. CBF of Arkansas’ partner institution is Central Seminary in Kansas City. But, CBF does not own them nor dictate how they operate. That, in my mind, is a major, and important, distinction.

Another distinctive of CBF life is its elevation of women in positions of leadership. I mentioned CBFAR’s affiliation with Central Seminary in Kansas City. Central’s former president is Molly Marshall, who was fired from the faculty at Southern Seminary in Louisville, my alma mater, for –  you guessed it – being a woman. And a smart, strong one at that! Molly once served on the staff of my former congregation in Little Rock, Pulaski Heights Baptist. Central is now led by Pam Durso, who for a number of years was president of Baptist Women in Ministry (BWIM). Prior to my coming as Interim Executive Coordinator of CBF of Arkansas, for more than two and-a-half years I was the interim pastor of First Baptist in Memphis. I am proud to say this vital congregation has now called Kathryn “Kat” Kimmell as Senior Pastor. 

Chuck Poole was once asked why his church in Jackson, Mississippi ordained women as deacons and ministers . His answer was simple: “We ordain women because we baptize girls” (Galatians 3:27-29).

Walter B. Shurden is a Baptist historian, the retired head of the Christianity Department at Mercer University, alma mater to my two children. “Buddy,” as he is known to his friends, published a book on Baptists’ Four Fragile Freedoms. They are:

Bible Freedom

The Bible is foundational for individuals and congregations. Every Christian has the freedom and right to interpret and apply Scripture under the leadership of the Holy Spirit. The wisdom and counsel of the larger congregation should nurture individual believers as they seek to interpret and apply Scripture.

Soul Freedom

We are each accountable to God individually without the imposition of creed or the control of clergy or government (and I would add, denomination). This personal experience with God is indispensable to the Christian life and necessary for a vital church. This is sometimes described as the “priesthood of all believers.”

Church Freedom

Baptist churches are free, under the Lordship of Christ, to determine their membership, leadership, doctrine and practice. This is sometimes known as “autonomy of the local church.” Individual churches should work together to achieve goals that one church by itself could not reach, (hence the presence of organizations like CBF of Arkansas).

Religious Freedom

Everyone should be able to worship (or not) as they feel led without unnecessary interference by the government. Just as religious freedom involves the freedom to practice religion, it also includes the freedom not to practice religion. If you can’t say “no,” your “yes” is meaningless. The separation of church and state affords an important constitutional protection of religious freedom for all.

Having noted the differences between the SBC and CBF, the question then is begged: why do so many Baptist churches remain affiliated with both? That is indeed a good question, and this is the only answer I can provide: old ways and habits, not to mention affiliations, die hard. Many of my former congregants simply found it too difficult to walk away from what they had known all their lives, even though what they had known no longer existed. With the desire to serve Christ locally and internationally, the SBC provides comfortable and familiar channels by which one can be a part of the “Baptist way of life and faith.” Even if you aren’t Baptist, you may have heard of Lottie Moon and/or Annie Armstrong, two women for whom international and “home mission” offerings historically have been named. Interesting, isn’t it, that these major offerings are named for women who could not preach in many a Baptist pulpit?! They could “speak,” but not preach, an important distinction to many SBC’ers. The Cooperative Program, a central fund endowed by individual churches to support agencies and finance the work of missionaries (see my previous article), is deeply embedded in the SBC, not to mention broader Baptist, psyche. It is hard to throw away old wineskins in favor of new (Mark 2:22). 

I refer back to Robert Parham’s earlier remark about herding cats. If you get the idea that I think CBF is perfect, please. . . no. We’ve made our fair share of mistakes, which may just be the subject of a future article. After all, confession is good for the soul. It has taken us years to put the old wineskins behind us in favor of the new. But I can think of no better way to be Baptist in today’s climate. Perhaps, some time down the road, a new and superior way of thinking and doing will come along. I leave that to the next generations to consider. As it is right now, for all the reasons I have enumerated – and more – I choose to affiliate with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, and invite you to join me in the journey.

The post What is the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship? appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

I was born-and-bred in the Southern Baptist way of life, and had learned that the SBC was a wide theological tent. There were those encamped in what was considered both the extreme left and extreme right, but by and large Southern Baptists dwelt in the huge middle… some to the left of center and others to the right, but still the center. What held us together was our common love for missions and sharing the gospel, reflected in what was known as the Cooperative Program. 

SBC churches were encouraged to give a portion of their income to the Cooperative Program (CP), and from this central fund missionaries were supported, agencies received their funding, and seminary students like myself were provided essentially a free theological education. As a graduate of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky, I felt my master’s degree was an excellent springboard for what I hoped would be a long and fruitful pastoral ministry.

Little did we know what awaited us in Houston. I was sitting with Randel Everett, my best friend during our days at Ouachita Baptist University in Arkadelphia, high in the upper reaches of the Astrodome. Randel had gone to seminary in Fort Worth, and we hadn’t seen each other in several years, so we were enjoying our reunion. It came time for those who would nominate presidential wanna-be’s, and Adrian Rogers’s name was brought forth. Rogers was pastor of the huge Bellevue church in Memphis, and was, as both Randel and I agreed, unelectable because he was on that extreme right to which I earlier referred. He would not be an attractive choice for that large center which I also mentioned. With our paper ballots in hand, little did we know…

Shift your focus, if you will, to the city of New Orleans. Several months before the Houston convention, two other right-wing extremists, Paige Patterson, once pastor of First Baptist in Fayetteville, and Paul Pressler, a judge in Houston, met at the Café Dumond in NOLA to plot their political takeover of the SBC. How best to move this huge denomination to the right where they could control her destiny? It could only be accomplished through electing their man—and obviously, it would be a man—to the presidency. The president of the convention had the power to determine who would serve on the various committees, commissions, and agencies that made policy for the SBC. Not only was there power to be grasped, but millions of dollars and properties as well, including two large encampments and six theological seminaries. The Sunday School Board alone had its very own zip code in Nashville. There was a lot at stake. It would take time to accomplish their purposes, Patterson and Pressler agreed, but it was worth it for the sake of what they felt was the spiritual goal of “saving” the convention from liberal destruction.

The leaders of the right-wing takeover movement felt the denomination should reflect their views, not that of those who were in the center or the left. And so, for the very first time in the history of the convention (at least for the very first known time), raw politics was used to get their way.

Based on the size of a church’s membership and gifts to the Cooperative Program, each congregation was allowed to send a certain number of delegates (called “messengers”) to the convention meeting. Except for very small congregations, many if not most churches were allowed the maximum of ten messengers. Annual convention meetings, especially when a presidential election took place, would see thousands of Southern Baptists assembled in one place. This gave rise to the saying that when they were in town there were two things Southern Baptists would not break: the Ten Commandments and a ten-dollar bill. 

The leaders of the right-wing takeover movement felt the denomination should reflect their views. For the very first time in the history of the convention, raw politics was used to get their way.
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Patterson and Pressler arranged for like-minded churches to send their full equivalent of ten messengers, and they came literally by the busload. And they all voted in lock-step as they were instructed by zone captains dressed in navy blazers and red ties. Not only was Adrian Rogers elected, but on the first ballot, a rarity in SBC life. I turned to my friend Randel in utter disbelief, and he said to me, “Hyde, we’re in big trouble.” And then, those messengers who voted for Rogers were loaded back on their buses and sent home. They were not in Houston for the regular convention proceedings but for the purpose of voting for their man. As I said, it was a show of raw politics, never before seen in Southern Baptist life. Little did we know…

It took a decade, but it happened. Fundamentalism eventually became the capstone of the Southern Baptist Convention. Rogers was followed by a lineup of like-minded fundamentalists who kept the momentum going: Bailey Smith (an Arkansas native and fellow OBU alum), Jimmy Draper, Charles Stanley, Jerry Vines, and Morris Chapman, all pastors of large churches which, ironically, had a history of giving little or nothing to the Cooperative Program. During the decade of the 80’s, people like me worked to overcome the gradual takeover of our denomination, but by 1991 the battle was over and we acceded to our loss. We were a people without a denominational home, for the SBC no longer reflected our collective values.

What to do next? If you have stayed with me thus far in this narrative, perhaps you will be interested in my next piece that will tell you about the birth and life of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. 

The post Little Did We Know appeared first on Arkansas Strong.

Debate in the United Methodist Church

The United Methodist Church (UMC) is known for being one of the more progressive protestant denominations in the United States and will be voting on whether to recognize same-sex marriage and LGBTQ clergy next year in the upcoming General Conference. The result of this decision is expected to split the church in two, as this has become a hedge issue among conservative and progressive Methodists that just won’t result in a verdict that leaves everyone happy. For some conservatives, it’s been a factor that encouraged them to leave the UMC entirely. For progressives, we see it as an overdue and necessary step towards the formal inclusion of queer people into the body of Christ.

These kinds of debates aren’t necessarily “special” to the UMC, but it is ground zero for a new divide in American Christianity: An increasing split between self-described “Conservative” and “Progressive” Christians who view the scriptures from different lenses. Conservatives tend to be more literal and fundamentalist, while Progressives are less literal and are becoming more affiliated with a movement known as “Deconstructionism,” referring to the practice of revisiting and rethinking long-held beliefs of the Faith. Many in the Deconstruction movement are adherents of “Liberation Theology,” emphasizing the liberation of the oppressed from social, economic, and political power structures; with the movement having roots in Latin American Catholicism. Pope Francis is a notable Progressive, specifically on economics. As stated above, I’m in the “Progressive” camp, just so you’re aware of my bias (If the title didn’t give it away). It’s also important to note that being a “Progressive Christian” does not necessarily correlate to being a political progressive, and vice versa.

The UMC is not just limited to being relatively liberal on gay rights. The church recognizes women as pastors, has spoken in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement, and the necessity of the eradication of global poverty. As a kid, I saw so many amazing people in my church get involved with the United Methodist Committee on Relief (UMCOR) or other service projects in the U.S. and globally. During the pandemic, the UMC has spoken forcefully in favor of church members receiving vaccinations and listening to health experts, while also advocating for government leaders to be responsive in getting vaccines to rural, impoverished, and non-white communities. While no denomination or church is perfect, the UMC has done an amazing job of recognizing something I don’t really see from most other churches: social justice and faith in action are both essential to and intertwined with the Gospel.

Progressive voices of the faith

In my life, I’ve cast 3 votes for President: Hillary Clinton, Elizabeth Warren, and Joe Biden. What do these three flawed politicians have in common, aside from the obvious? Yes, they are Democrats, but they are also highly religious. I can hear the rage comments now… “Killary isn’t a Christian/they believe in abortion/they’re with the devil…”

While mainstream American Christianity is dominated by the Southern Baptist and Evangelical traditions, which at this point are as firmly rooted in the Republican Party as low taxes and AR-15’s, the idea of Democratic politicians being religious is a foreign concept to lots of voters on both sides. Separation of Church and State is engrained in the minds of progressives, and most conservative Christians tend to think that supporting policies like reproductive choice or same-sex marriage means you’re not actually a Christian. (Or at least you’re going to have an uncomfortable conversation with the big guy after death). Many Catholic Bishops openly criticized President Biden’s right to communion because of his pro-choice politics, despite him being a devout Catholic and a regular attendee to mass. Clinton and Warren are both UMC members, with Warren invoking the Gospel of Matthew’s Parable of the Sheep & Goats as the basis for her politics; and Clinton speaking candidly about her daily devotional during the 2016 election, titled “Strong for a Moment Like This,” written by Rev. Dr. Bill Shillady.

As I mentioned earlier, the mainstream American church is dominated by the influences of the Southern Baptist and Evangelical traditions, firmly planting the politics of the Church on the right of the political spectrum. While Jesus belongs to no party or ideology, I cannot begin to describe both the short- and long-term harms this is doing to the Church. The obvious is Donald Trump, and the relative indifference of the Church to his egregious assaults on political norms and democratic institutions. However, it goes so much deeper than the behavior of the former President. Senator Ted Cruz, the poster-boy of Evangelical Conservatism, lead an effort to invalidate the 2020 Electoral College votes. In Arkansas, GOP State Senator, and candidate for Lt. Governor-Jason Rapert-is renowned for his inflammatory statements on twitter, while professing a fervent and zealous devotion to Christ. Should I even mention Jim Bob Duggar? Republican politicians and ideologues have been prone to problematic behavior and policies, including the demonization of immigrants, mocking movements for racial justice, and labeling any social welfare spending “socialist,” all while invoking Christianity in the same breath.

Woe to those using the Church for hate

I know people who have left the faith entirely, because of the sheer disgust they have felt watching the Church not only be silent, but often engrained in, the politics of the right. Let me make clear that there are millions of good people who find themselves on the conservative side of the fence, and their politics & faith are just as valid as mine. The issue is that not nearly enough of these people have spoken out against the increasingly cruel politics and the cult of personality surrounding Donald Trump. This is only accelerating the decline of Christianity in the United States, with irreligion on track to be the majority religious consensus as early as 2035. While there are certainly problems on the left, the political marriage of mainstream Christianity to the Republican Party will continue to push away from the faith those who cannot accept Donald Trump as the face of the party of supposed Christian values.

Progressives are also hesitant to talk about faith in the pursuit of the policies and justice we seek for society. We are warry of sounding “churchy” or alienating voters from our message who don’t profess Jesus. After all, Progressives are much more religiously diverse than Conservatives, and many Progressives don’t subscribe to religion at all.

But at the core of Progressivism is representing the interests of ordinary people. From collective bargaining and tackling gross inequality to addressing the impacts of systematic racism and the necessity of environmental preservation, there are massive overlaps in values between Progressives and people of faith (in particular, the Christian kind). However, only about a quarter of Americans identify as liberal or progressive. What gives? Well, you’d be surprised how few Christians know about the overlap in values. The Christian-Right has done a phenomenal job of turning so many Christians into one issue voters: the issue of abortion.

When bringing up abortion, it’s important to make two points crystal clear: (1) There are valid views by people on both sides of this issue, and (2) most Americans fall into the category of “Pro-Choice with conditions,” i.e. favoring the legality of abortion while also supporting limitations that restrict later stage procedures, such as late term abortions. A slim majority of Christians classify themselves as “Pro-Life.” What the Right won’t tell you is how Pro-Life we Progressives really are. We support policies that mandate sexual education based on science instead of abstinence, and easier access to birth control, so that teens are knowledgeable about sex and can prevent unwanted pregnancies. We advocate for economic policies such as higher minimum wages, access to affordable healthcare, and educational opportunities via college or trade school that give young adults economic mobility; allowing them to start a family, without falling into deep financial distress.

Too often, the issue of abortion is only seen as a moral issue instead of an economic one. There are thousands of young women who simply do not see a viable financial path to having a child, and the tragic realities of the Foster Care system too often do not leave adoption as an alternative either. While Conservatives are prone to stop the conversation at birth, Progressives should talk more about how we actually have the solutions to making abortion unnecessary, without taking away a woman’s right to bodily autonomy. And that message should be directed towards Christians, who for too long have been written off by Progressives as simply being closed-minded or religious bigots.

Progressives: get out of your bubbles

The elitism of the Progressive movement is also a major problem to its success and is a reason why Democrats are prone to only win elections when the opposition is just insanely bad. (Remember “basket of deplorables?”) Progressives tend to be city-dwellers, stuck in their blue bubbles and sipping their chardonnay, worried about issues like global warming (albeit, a valid concern), while people in the middle of the country are living paycheck to paycheck and seeing the talented youth of their towns meander to big cities for job opportunities and like-minded values. You just can’t really worry about global warming when you’re not sure how to pay for the necessities. While there are still plenty of poor Democrats and affluent Republicans, new trends show that Democratic congressional districts are becoming more urban, wealthier, and formally educated. Republican congressional districts are becoming more rural, poorer, and less formally educated. There also happen to be more districts that lean GOP than DEM in their Cook Partisan Voting Index (PVI). So how can Democrats (Progressives) fight this elitism and win elections? Head to the Church.

In Christianity, we are taught that we are all made in the image of God. There is value in every single person. And though the Church has done plenty of horrible things while it has been a power structure (Crusades, Inquisition, persecution, hanging out with fascists, etc.), the Church’s roots are those of humble origins. Jesus, a brown refugee, and working-class man, stood in defiance of the religious and political elite of his day; He began a movement of mostly women and slaves that would turn into the world’s most dominant religion, built on a foundation of radical love. This shared recognition of the value of human life, and our commitment to seeing through social and economic justice, means that Progressives not only have a home in the Church, but the Church needs Progressives to be a political voice of the faith. If not, Progressives will continue to be a minority in this country for the foreseeable future, and the Church will continue to only be associated with the problematic political right. For Christianity and Progressivism to survive for the long-term, it’s time for the Left to go to church.

Sources

• How America Lost Its Religion – The Atlantic

• “Pro-Choice” or “Pro-Life,” 2018-2021 Demographic Tables (gallup.com)

• The Age of Deconstruction and Future of the Church – RELEVANT (relevantmagazine.com)

• What is liberation theology? – U.S. Catholic (uscatholic.org)

• Hillary Clinton Thinks About Preaching, Bill Shillady Publishes a Book of Devotionals – The Atlantic

• Democrats and Republicans Live in Different Worlds – WSJ

* United Methodist conservatives detail breakaway plans over gay inclusion (nbcnews.com)

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Growing up, I took a deep interest in the scriptures. I remember being as young as 12, taking my Bible to school and reading during lesson breaks and on lunch. In church, I would sing hymns like “Nearer, my God, to Thee,” taking those words to heart. I was baptized. While other kids my age were reading teen fiction novels, I was reading apologetics. I even joined an adult Sunday School class because I wasn’t “getting enough” spiritual substance from my regular youth class. It was serious to me. I took it all to heart. 

Then I realized that I was gay. Looking back on it, I always had those feelings. I tried having feelings for my best friend in high school, an amazing girl who is still a close friend. However, those just weren’t genuine. No amount of prayer could change that I really had a crush on someone else, a person of the same gender. Well, shit. 

I won’t go into detail because it’s personal and painful, but I can say with absolute assurance that my first years acknowledging my sexuality, I wanted to die. 

I wanted to die. Everyday. 

How I’m not dead is a genuine miracle. For years, it was almost all I thought about. And why? Because I knew what the scriptures said. There was no walking around it. And reading those words, especially when they were invoked from people that I loved… I cannot put the pain into words. 

For context, I wasn’t kicked out of my home. There are so many others who had it so much worse than me. I am fortunate enough to have amazing, loving parents who love me no matter who I am. And yet, those feelings were there. That pain was real. 

There is still a guilt that exists in acknowledging these feelings. I am so blessed with an amazing family and friends. I have my needs met, and there is so much happiness in my life. Even in those years of darkness. I eventually learned that you could feel both gratitude and despair, and it’s okay. It’s valid. 

Not long after I came out, I left the faith and considered myself Agnostic. I put religion to the side, and I didn’t really give it too much more thought. After all, look at how much pain it had caused me. When I would come home and attend church with my parents, I didn’t take communion. While I knew that I was always welcome to His table, I couldn’t bring myself to partake in something so special and sacred when I didn’t believe. Even though abstaining hurt, it was an act of respect. I hope He appreciated that. 

After taking my LSAT and working on my Law School applications, there was a sudden urge to really answer the question “What do I actually believe?” I picked up my Bible for the first time in years, and I opened it to a random page. It was the Beatitudes. 

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth. 

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. 

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. 

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the Sons of God. 

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 

Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. 

I cried. I cried harder than I have in a very long time. The words of the Savior comforted me in a way I never knew possible. In that moment, I understood that I was enough. That I was not defined by something I could not choose. That He had seen my suffering, acknowledged it, and wiped away my tears. That He never left me. 

I went to the kitchen, and I grabbed a small plate with a piece of store-bought bread, and some left over wine in the fridge. I sat down, and took communion by myself, for the first time in years. I prayed that despite my uncountable flaws, that my life may be an emulation of the Savior’s love, and that other queer people may see me as a walking testimony to the love of God. That you can be authentic to yourself and to God, without hating yourself or walking away from faith. That you belong in the body of Christ. That, after all the pain, it is well with your soul. 

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In good faith: critical thinking, truth telling

I have a dish towel in my kitchen that shows the back end of a hen, with her head turned so she’s glancing back. It says, “Sometimes you just have to say ‘Cluck it’ and walk away”, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.

It’s been about a year now since I stopped trying to act like a Christian. I needed to take some time to be away from it and just live. I kind of wanted to know what questions would come up and what I would miss about it. It turns out, there’s not much I miss.

All my life, I’ve been some sort of evangelical, and there have been a lot of good things about that. My faith led me to places where I could serve people and love them in unexpected ways. I was very young when I learned that love is something you live, not something you talk about, and I certainly didn’t succeed in being loving all the time, but I sure can say I did my best.

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It’s been about a year now since I stopped trying to act like a Christian.
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My faith also taught me that change is difficult but part of growth, to look for ways to make a difference where I am, to get back up when I fail, and to be fascinated with the world around me, just to name a few things. My life so far has been rich and full of beauty and adventure, and much of that is due to the choices I’ve made because of my faith.

A God who loves

The Good Samaritan by William Henry Margetson

The more I studied the Bible and thought about what it meant, the more I loved it – not as a manual for living or a magic book of encouragement, or even for its component parts, but as a fairly comprehensive picture of what it looks like when people believe in a God who loves and they try to live up to it – and of what that doesn’t look like. People are complex, beautiful creatures but flawed and often stupid.

We do dumb stuff and then wish we hadn’t. We do weird things we think will make God happy only to find out that it was just weird and we were making things more complicated than they needed to be. Sometimes we do evil things and put God’s name to them just because it’s what we want to do and we think that God said he (/she/it?) would be with us so that just makes whatever we want to do the “holy” or “righteous” thing to do.

Sometimes, though, we just reach out and love someone else and work for the best for them, and that’s when it’s really transcendent. That’s what I love about the Bible. It’s mostly just the story of people acting like jackasses and still being given another chance to not act like jackasses. Even the good ones are pretty dumb. It’s just that they’re trying. So, my problem is not with the Bible.

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I’m a middle aged white American woman living in a rural area of the Bible belt in 2021 and I want so little to do with the church as it is here
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My problem also isn’t flawed people. Obviously, I’m not perfect and neither is anyone else. We might like to pretend we’re not shooting in the dark but really, we all are. Many of the individual people in the church are trying their best, and many are doing wonderful things that I love to honor and support.

But I don’t want to be a Christian anymore.

Bible Belt: a new perspective

I realize that this has a lot to do with the time and place in which I live. That’s true, but the fact is that I do live in this time and place. I’m a middle aged white American woman living in a rural area of the Bible belt in 2021 and I want so little to do with the church as it is here, in my time and place, that just the thought of being called by the same name makes me feel ill. I’m well aware that there are other iterations in other cultures or backgrounds that I would have fewer issues identifying myself with, but the fact remains that I am not in those places, or living in those times. I am here. And I want nothing to do with it.

I’ve spent hours upon hours trying to piece out what brought me to this place, like putting together a puzzle where each little piece holds a clue to the whole picture that is not made clear until the end. But if this story were a puzzle, it would have at least 3000 pieces and I don’t know that I’d ever be able to get it all together. My anger is not with a person or disappointment from any one event, although I’ve been angry with people sometimes, and definitely been disappointed.

Members only?

My anger is with an institution. It’s an institution that offers a social club with eternity insurance – failure to join with the correct words and practices of initiation resulting in torture forever – and coverage continues then cost-free and regardless of other choices forever. It’s an institution that has proven itself, over and over again, to be more interested in doctrine than in love. It’s an institution that is determined to address the issues of “the world” instead of the issues of the church.

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Jesus looked for the people his culture hated, and he loved them. He had mercy on the people his community saw as enemies.
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It teaches children that popularity or looking the part is more desirable than kindness. It teaches the gifts of the spirit without emulating the fruits of the spirit. It has consistently confused political party alliance with religious devotion, explicitly or implicitly endorsing the use of Jesus’ name in acts of political violence. It has proven that the outward performance of devotion is of higher value to it than the quiet and meek solidarity with the weakest and poorest among human beings. It openly portrays the concepts of social justice, equity, peace, inclusion, and anti-racism as anti-Christian.

What would Jesus do?

Our world is in turmoil. People can be assholes and honestly, we know it. Jesus was different. He walked around in a world full of turmoil and divisions and popularity contests and religious rules and political posturing, but he was kind. He looked for the people his culture hated, and he loved them. He had mercy on the people his community saw as enemies. He broke the religious rules if he could show love instead. He chose to sacrifice himself instead of pursuing political power.

Christ of the Ozarks in Eureka Springs

In fact, our world is hungry for the kind of stubborn kindness that Jesus showed. We’re all desperate for a promise of something that makes it all worthwhile. People (myself included) are looking for examples of lives worth living. In the church we see people screaming for their own rights – to own guns, to move freely without regard for the health of others, to sing their songs, play their games and abuse those with whom they disagree, to hold hateful signs and scream hateful slogans when others demonstrate peacefully against acts of violence.

It’s not that there are no people serving the poor without regard for reward, or caring for the sick or taking in the refugee, but those people are largely hidden away where they do not have to embarrass the ones who are not doing those things. No, the church is not where the world around me finds its kindness and acceptance and justice and peace in the storm. A tree will be known by its fruit, and the fruit growing from this tree is division and jealousy and sorcery and contempt for others and misogyny and spiritual posturing, and open racism and love for violence and rivalries and magic thinking.

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I’ve been standing in front of a door, thinking that inside is where I need to be... but what’s really happened is that as I’ve tried to work from inside, it has actually pushed me further away.
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Love is something you live

The fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and self-control. These are the very things we all look for when the world around us is in turmoil, and they are things that are there to be found. I can think of a few people who have defied the odds to become the pop heroes of our culture, and they are anything but perfect. Dolly Parton is revered by diverse multitudes, not directly for her music but for playing the long game in her investment in bettering the lives of those less fortunate than herself, and for doing that without fanfare or great publicity but simply, as the opportunity arises, and with faithfulness.

Brené Brown is a superstar for teaching people to accept their own vulnerability and love truly and expansively and with humor. Michelle Obama became, in a way, the Proverbs 31 woman and Esther to Generation X – caring for her family while utilizing a position she would not have sought for herself as a springboard to serve and encourage others she would never have a chance to meet. Fictitious as he is, Ted Lasso inspires millions to choose to turn to others with cheerfulness and kindness and a healing hand when possible. In each phase of my life, I’ve known people whose kindness and true compassion has set them apart and made them an example to others. There are many more pop culture figures who have come forward to fill the hole left in our hearts by the church, and that’s great, but the fact remains that they are doing a job the church is leaving undone.

No place for me

Several months ago, a relatively new friend was talking about the many friendships she used to have that have been destroyed by the political turmoil of the past years – from the vindictive political campaigns that started nationally but have spread to even the tiniest elections, to the racial upheavals, to the politicized response to the pandemic, and on – and she asked me if I could relate. I thought about it for a moment and realized that yes, I had lost friendships, but more than that, it’s been the final blow in robbing me of my religion and my faith community.

I’m no longer going to pretend this is all okay with me, or implicitly endorse what I see as blasphemy with my participation in its programs or my identification with its name. I find that for years now I’ve been standing in front of a door, thinking that inside is where I need to be. That if my faith is real, I would stick to the church and change it from the inside, but what’s really happened is that as I’ve tried to work from inside, it has actually crowded me out and pushed me further away. So, my decision is not to walk away from my place, but to walk away because I no longer have a place, and it was making me crazy to keep feverishly trying to find it in an institution where there is no room for me.

Making peace

Nothing much has changed in my everyday life. I’m not exploring alternative lifestyles or joining a coven. I’m getting up every day and loving my kids and my husband. I’m trying to be a loving family member, a good friend, an advocate for peace. I want my kids to be diligent and kind and passionate and successful adults so I cheer them on as they try those things out and encourage them to try again when they fail. I want to love others, so I try to approach each person with honor for their humanity. I’m trying to learn what I can about the world around me.

Please don’t misunderstand my purpose in writing this. I’m not writing to ask you to join me. We each occupy our own space in the world, and I trust you. I’m not even asking you to agree with me. I’m asking you to remain my friend and as my friend to be with me in this – to trust me that I’m doing my best. It’s hard and lonely and kind of infuriating to be me right now. I need my friends. If you have questions or want to talk about things, I’m here for it, but please don’t try to evangelize me. I don’t know what will happen with my faith, but if God is God, then I am safe, and if not, I am at peace.

 

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