Hey Toffelguy, I thought you said you had some questions to get us started out here. What's the hold up Mr. Phd no time for the little guy bloggers type person!
That is all.
p.s. I am very excited because my very first issue of the Journal of Near Eastern Studies was just handed to me by my wife!!! I subscribed mainly to have access to their back issues online but this is an added bonus. TEE HEE (a la little school girl)
Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
And now for something completely different...
Hi. I'm Tara.
I am a pastor's wife and stay at home mom to three kids. My husband Doug pastor's a small Alliance church here in northeastern Saskatchewan. Our town is teeny tiny. My son Aiden is 6, my son Owen is 5 and my daughter Olivia turns 2 in 6 weeks. My mom lives in our basement.
My journey to faith has been... well... odd.
I was raised by a pot-smoking, card carrying feminist, hippy single mother... who also happened to be a rebellious pastor's kid. My mom was 32 years old when I came along and she had been trying to have a baby for over 6 years. So although I was a surprise, she was thrilled. I had a good childhood. I was loved.
It was different.
But still good.
I was taught about God. I was also taught about various new age and eastern philosophies.
My grandparents and my Aunt & Uncle were both in ministry (both Alliance pastors) and they prayed for me daily.
God protected me from a whole lot. I was never all that interested in joining the lifestyle of my mom and her friends. I became a Christian, for the first time, when I was four. Apparently I had been playing alone in my room and I came out and informed my mom that Jesus lived in my heart. I have no recollection of this.
My mom would occassionally send me to Sunday School but certainly nothing regularly.
We moved constantly. At LEAST once per year. Different schools, different homes, different friends every few months. My dad was never around. My mom got married when I was nine. Step-dad was a schizophrenic artist. (no, I'm not kidding). Mom got divorced when I was 10.
When I entered junior high we moved to Edmonton. My Uncle was pastoring a church there and I began attending regularly. I think I mostly did it to tick my mom off. I found the Christian subculture exceedingly difficult to break into and understand. At one point I was accused of being drunk at youth group... I wasn't. I didn't drink. In all truth and reality I was just acting dumb which is an ailment most 13 year old girls possess. As a result two girls in youth group were no longer allowed to be my friend. They never spoke to me again.
People, that is messed up.
Anyway, I prayed the prayer of salvation EVERY NIGHT at LEAST 5 or 10 times for about 3 years during junior high. I'm not kidding. I had absolutely ZERO assurance of salvation. It became a mantra of sorts for me. I remember thinking that if I just said it often enough and sincerely enough maybe it would finally work.
When I was 14 my mom had a heart attack. This was a huge turning point in both my life and my mother's. She returned to the faith of her childhood and I found assurance of Salvation. But that period of time was intensely difficult for both of us.
High school was tough.
There were lots of good things- My mom was a secretary for a church and I was deeply involved in the life of the church. I even went on an amazing life changing teen missions trip to Kathmandu, Nepal. Everyone should see real poverty at least once in their lives.
I was also baptized... all I remember from that experience was being terrified of sharing my testimony in front of those thousand people sitting their staring at me.
There were also a whole lot of bad things. In church I had unkind things said to me like "well, we can't expect much from you considering how you have been raised". I am a VERY perceptive person and I KNEW people were treating me differently than the kids who grew up in church. Not that they tried too hard to hide that fact.
At this point I just need to share a small story. During my very first visit to a new church (a HUGE MASSIVE church) I sat with a friend from school. There was a lot about the service I didn't understand and I kept asking my friend questions. I asked who the guy talking was, I asked why there were 15 people on the stage for singing time, I asked all sorts of things which my friend graciously answered for me. After the service we were approached by a lady in her 50's. She said "I want you to know that you two were very rude and disrespectful. I brought a friend to church today and she couldn't concentrate because of you two. You need to learn to behave in church" then she huffed away. I was HORRIFIED that I had been bad at church. That woman successfully made me feel like a misfit on my first day at church.
Don't be like that.
There were other really miserable things in highschool. I managed to find a boyfriend from church who was abusive and told me that it was ok because he knew God better than I did. I believed him and learned to "submit". He ditched me and I felt lost and even more unaccepted in church. When I was with him people had been nice to me. Now I was back to being looked down on. I learned quickly that it didn't matter what people were really like, it only mattered what how they appeared and how able to fake it they were. If you were too honest and too real you weren't accepted. Plain and Simple. I spent my years trying desperately to fit in, to fake it enough to be accepted.
I was intenseley depressed.
Highschool blissfully ended and things rapidly improved! The summer after grade 12 I got a phone call from Capernwray Harbour Bible Centre. They said "Someone has annonymously paid for a full year, room and board and tuition, at our school. Would you like to come?". I jumped at the chance to escape my world!
I spent two incredible years at Capernwray (a different person paid for my full second year). In this time God taught me how to care more about what HE thought than what church thought. He healed many of my heart wounds. The professors actually listened to me and answered my questions.
Capernwray was God's place of healing for me. I still have friends from my time there. It was great because the place was just filled with people who didn't fit in church! I wasn't the only one! It really was an incredible blessing for me. And the best part is that God knew I never could have afforded to go on my own so he paid for me to go! God was totally taking care of me and I have never forgotten that.
After Capernwray I re-entered the world of church sub-culture by attending Canadian Bible College (now Ambrose University). It was tough but an excellent training ground for my present life as a pastor's wife.
I LOVED the classes. I drank up the teaching like I was dying of thirst. I LOVED being able to ask my questions and dialogueing with the professors and other students. It was amazing. And no, I didn't understand everything and I didn't even necessarily agree with everything... but that wasn't the point. God had healed my heart enough during my years at Capernwray so that I was ABLE to learn at CBC.
I met and married my fabulous husband. My husband who was raised in a lovely Christian home and grew up in church and was becoming a pastor. I thought God had gone stark raving mad when he paired the two of us up. But it was exactly what we both needed- two different perspectives coming together to try and make this church thing work.
We have been in church ministry for almost 9 years now. It has been tough for me, learning to navigate church culture as the pastor's wife. I have learned that I am incapable of pretending to be the perfect pastor's wife... plus God doesn't want me to. So I strive for reality. To let people see me as I really am. And boy oh boy do I get in trouble for it.
I seem to regularly tick people off.
When I was struggling through my 3 bouts of post partum depression I was ridiculed for being honest about it (pastor's wives shouldn't struggle), for taking medication (if I really had faith God would be enough), for just generally sucking at life. When my first son was born he was severely colicky and would cry for 10 -12 hours per day (no, I am not exaggerating). I had SEVERE post partum depression. At one point I went to the elder's board to get prayed for. They prayed that I would adjust to motherhood and learn to be a better mother.
I was crushed. The prayers were cruel and judgemental. Even my husband was horrified. I vowed to never get prayed for by an elder's board again, I was so hurt and demoralized.
I have recovered - realizing anew that God loved me and knew my heart even if they didn't.
There have been many ups and downs over the years. Lately people get mad at me for blogging. For being too honest. Apparently it is behaviour unbecoming of a pastor's wife. sigh. And for arguing in favour of women in ministry. And for saying the church should be more involved in the community and in social justice.
Like I said I get in trouble really a lot.
But I carry on with my honesty because people need it. This world needs more honesty. I am blessed daily by the people who read my blog and send me emails and comments. God has called me to be ME. It's all I can do. And I believe I am where God has called me to be.
At one point in my life (before children) I was pretty academic. Actually I was a complete nerd. And I loved it. I pretty much wanted to be in school forever. Aiden was a surprise and so I became a mom instead of getting my masters degree. God knew what He was doing. Being a mom has made me think more practically and learn to communicate to the non-academic members of my life. It has been a good thing.
I still have loads of questions. I wonder constantly how we can make church relevant in our time.
My son Aiden is in the process of being diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder. People have been cruelly judgemental to him and to us. He doesn't behave normally. He gets frustrated easily and lashes out. He feels intense emotion and anger. He has trouble fitting in to our world. He is a wondeful lesson about how differently people are made, about accepting people where they are at. Accepting them and loving them and not trying to push them into a mold simply to make ourselves more comfortable.
We have been gossiped about, judged to be poor parents because of the behaviour of our son.
Don't be like that people.
Now that a real doctor says Aiden has a legitimate reason to act the way he does people have been slightly kinder. Which only proves to me how cruel church can be for the misfits amongst us. The ones who destroy the image of perfection so many strive to uphold. You can only be different if you have a note from the doctor.
And so I carry on, learning to listen to God instead of the cacophony of voices around me.
How's that for an intro? :)
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Dustin's Intro
For those who came to this blog and want to read far more interesting journeys than mine, which is posted immediately below, please be sure to jump down to the much more “existentially aware” intros of Jon, Trevor, and Scott.
You’ve got to admit, it’s kinda funny that we began this blog on evangelicalism with personal testimonies….
(…Cue “Just as I am.”)
In all likelihood, I am the least known participants in this group, though I think I have some small connection to a few of you in one way or another. I grew up on the Canadian prairies and did not become interested in Christianity and the like until well into my teen years. My first exposure to such things was through an evangelical youth group (C&MA, actually) by which I was formed through the usual suspects: DC Talk, Wednesday night Bible-studies, and The Princess Bride. After high school I completed a BA from Briercrest College. It was exposure to the critical study of the Bible, particularly of the Gospels, that caused me first to question how I fit within evangelicalism as I knew it. Looking back, it was really one question that haunted me: “If the Bible is so historically-conditioned, how can we ever look to it for guidance on matters of life and faith? How can we preach?” I’d say that it was this question more than any other that kept me from following through on my original intention to enter vocational ministry.
However, I enjoyed my studies and had no other real direction, so I continued into the seminary part-time. (Good reasoning, eh?) Eventually, I found myself working in an administrative capacity for the college. I finally graduated from my MA program after having written a thesis on contemporary evangelical doctrines of Scripture. Through my studies I finally recovered some of the confidence that I had lost in God’s ability to be heard in Scripture and planned again to enter pastoral ministry. However, this time I couldn’t find a church that I really felt comfortable entering into as a pastor! Looking back, I think that my hesitation was what Bonhoeffer described as “loving one’s image of the community more than the community itself” (paraphrased from Life Together). This is something I continue to wrestle with and, I think, has played a much greater role than I care to admit in determining where I am now.
Anyway, I had aspirations to teach theology and to write. And so, I worked a couple of more years at Briercrest and dabbled a bit in the classroom. In Fall 2006 my family and I moved to Hamilton so that I could begin my PhD work at McMaster University’s department of Religious Studies with the hope of becoming an “academic.” We also began to attend an Anglican parish around this time. I’m now at the dissertation stage of my program, researching the Christology and biblical interpretation of Swiss Reformed theologian Karl Barth, still wrestling with similar questions that emerged a long time ago. I continue to consider myself an evangelical, even (perhaps especially) as we get to know the Anglican Communion. I’m glad to be part of this little experiment in conversation because I think that the stories of those involved are representative of a common trend. I hope to understand that.
(Concluding Unscientific Post-Script) Re-reading this intro, it sounds much more intellectualist than I actually am. Take it with a grain of salt... the theological/philosophical questions are very real indeed, but they are but a part of a much more complicated history than what I can represent here (or even to myself).
You’ve got to admit, it’s kinda funny that we began this blog on evangelicalism with personal testimonies….
(…Cue “Just as I am.”)
In all likelihood, I am the least known participants in this group, though I think I have some small connection to a few of you in one way or another. I grew up on the Canadian prairies and did not become interested in Christianity and the like until well into my teen years. My first exposure to such things was through an evangelical youth group (C&MA, actually) by which I was formed through the usual suspects: DC Talk, Wednesday night Bible-studies, and The Princess Bride. After high school I completed a BA from Briercrest College. It was exposure to the critical study of the Bible, particularly of the Gospels, that caused me first to question how I fit within evangelicalism as I knew it. Looking back, it was really one question that haunted me: “If the Bible is so historically-conditioned, how can we ever look to it for guidance on matters of life and faith? How can we preach?” I’d say that it was this question more than any other that kept me from following through on my original intention to enter vocational ministry.
However, I enjoyed my studies and had no other real direction, so I continued into the seminary part-time. (Good reasoning, eh?) Eventually, I found myself working in an administrative capacity for the college. I finally graduated from my MA program after having written a thesis on contemporary evangelical doctrines of Scripture. Through my studies I finally recovered some of the confidence that I had lost in God’s ability to be heard in Scripture and planned again to enter pastoral ministry. However, this time I couldn’t find a church that I really felt comfortable entering into as a pastor! Looking back, I think that my hesitation was what Bonhoeffer described as “loving one’s image of the community more than the community itself” (paraphrased from Life Together). This is something I continue to wrestle with and, I think, has played a much greater role than I care to admit in determining where I am now.
Anyway, I had aspirations to teach theology and to write. And so, I worked a couple of more years at Briercrest and dabbled a bit in the classroom. In Fall 2006 my family and I moved to Hamilton so that I could begin my PhD work at McMaster University’s department of Religious Studies with the hope of becoming an “academic.” We also began to attend an Anglican parish around this time. I’m now at the dissertation stage of my program, researching the Christology and biblical interpretation of Swiss Reformed theologian Karl Barth, still wrestling with similar questions that emerged a long time ago. I continue to consider myself an evangelical, even (perhaps especially) as we get to know the Anglican Communion. I’m glad to be part of this little experiment in conversation because I think that the stories of those involved are representative of a common trend. I hope to understand that.
(Concluding Unscientific Post-Script) Re-reading this intro, it sounds much more intellectualist than I actually am. Take it with a grain of salt... the theological/philosophical questions are very real indeed, but they are but a part of a much more complicated history than what I can represent here (or even to myself).
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
This is Jon
I say this with fear and trembling: I'm not entirely sure I would be a Christian today if not for spending thousands and thousands of dollars to get a theological education, thus discovering Christianity to more relevant, life-giving, complex, beautiful, intellectual, and communal than I had ever realized.
I'm not trying to make a statement with that, I'm just saying that's my story. I'm not trying to say the evangelical churches I grew up in never had any of that, I'm just saying I never caught much wind of it (and still don't very often). I'm not saying I have my own theological education to thank for my faith (as if it is mine in some way), I'm just saying that key professors and authors have been the part of the church which God has graciously used to keep me. I think this does speak to a problem in evangelicalism, but we'll get to that later I'm sure.
Reading Robert Webber's Younger Evangelicals a couple years ago I realized that being born in '75 put me between generations---and this explained to me why I've always felt tugged in two directions at once. It has never been incredibly difficult for me to join in on the postmodern critique of modernity; the Gen-X critique of Boomers; the emergent critique of the seeker-service; and so on. Whatever you want to call it, I feel it in my bones.
But it isn't so easy: I am just as suspicious of my critique as I am of the one I critique. I am postmodern enough to believe that it isn't so black and white as all that---as if modernity is all bad and postmodernity all good; as if my generation will be able to right the wrongs of evangelicalism past without in turn bringing new and even worse wrongs to evangelicalism future; as if we are the enlightened ones whose first step ought to be to shrug off the lies and errors of our fathers. Uh-uh. I'm with Elijah: My ancestors may have had some problems, but the harder I try to fix them the more I discover that I am no better than my ancestors. We've seen generation after generation err by over-reacting to the one before. Too many babies have been thrown out with the bathwater. The errors of today's evangelicalism are the over-reactions to the evangelicalism which preceded.
But lest this become a rant instead of an introduction, let me give a couple anecdotes from my life that illustrate why I look at it this way.
When I was a boy of 12 I was for the first time listening to rock music on my headphones---and it was so good. I was loving it. I had never really heard to anything like it and new vistas of experience were opening on my horizon.
But all the time I listened I was full of this debilitating and deathly fear that I'd be found out for being so rebellious; I'd be in huge trouble for brushing the dark side---and this new world of music that had just opened up in front of me would be taken away by my parents forever.
Then one day it happened: I was listening to this music and my Mom was trying to talk to me. I couldn't hear. She spoke louder to get my attention. When I noticed I thought my time had come. I was busted. I don't recall exactly but I think I burst into tears. Turned out she was just telling me we had to go somewhere. That's all. She couldn't understand what I was so fearful of. What she and I both didn't realize, I think, was what a hold guilt and fear had on my young Christian heart. I felt guilty for pretty much everything and I was afraid of even more.
Now here's the crazy thing: The music was Micheal W. Smith! And my parents had not only overseen the purchase of the cassette but had given me the walkman! Why was I afraid? For the life of me I can't figure it out except to say that the fear (and guilt) that I felt crippling me growing up was part and parcel of the evangelical air I breathed.
I'm not going to try to say that guilt and fear don't have their place, but they are not the beating heart of the faith. Something went seriously wrong in my corner of the 2oth century evangelical world and many like me have not survived it. I am thankful that by the grace of God somehow the faith still has a hold of me, but at times it has been barely. Eventually the icy grip of guilt and fear squeezes the life out of it and you either run for cover or you find that there is something deeper to the faith.
This may sound like therapy, but so be it. One more anecdote: In grade 7 the San Francisco earthquake happened right before my eyes while I watched TV. Given my upbringing I was fairly certain the rapture was about to happen any moment. Unexpectedly, I became very afraid of being raptured. I did not want to go to heaven. I did not want to go to hell, either, don't get me wrong, but all I could think of when I thought of heaven was this eternal extension of my current experience. At the time I did not appreciate things like love and grace and peace and reconciliation and hope. Those things had certainly been taught in church but I didn't hear them.
I had heard about the slippery slope though. And it certainly kept me out of trouble. Something good might still be said about it. I had heard conviction of sin. And it certainly led me to Jesus. Something good might still be said about that too. I had heard all about the end-times. It certainly made me aware of the urgency of life, and something good might still be said about it as well, but beneath them I had nothing but a gaping hole where Jesus (and Christian community)ought to have been thriving but was breathing for air.
Here I was petrified of heaven because all I could picture was me sitting alone in a crowded church feeling completelly out of the loop . . . for ever. I was beside myself. I really was. Few things are as frightening in my memory as that time of my life.
What got me through was my dad praying with me. Notice that? I had the evangelicalism of my ancestors partly to blame for the trouble I was in, but I also had my living breathing ancestor to thank for leading me in Christian communion to engage the Jesus somewhere behind it all.
20 years later I am still working through all of this. My church upbringing is something I have become very thankful for. But it is also something I want to build on. Hopefully little conversation groups like this one can be some good therapy---I mean edification.
I doubt that ours is a period of transition which will smooth out the church experience for our children. I shudder to think of the messes I am leaving for my kids to clean up. But I take solace in the grace of God and I make it my goal not to pass on a heritage of my own achieved perfection, but the ministry of reconciliation that (whether it always realised it or preached it or not) has been the beating heart of the evangelical church all along.
I'm not trying to make a statement with that, I'm just saying that's my story. I'm not trying to say the evangelical churches I grew up in never had any of that, I'm just saying I never caught much wind of it (and still don't very often). I'm not saying I have my own theological education to thank for my faith (as if it is mine in some way), I'm just saying that key professors and authors have been the part of the church which God has graciously used to keep me. I think this does speak to a problem in evangelicalism, but we'll get to that later I'm sure.
Reading Robert Webber's Younger Evangelicals a couple years ago I realized that being born in '75 put me between generations---and this explained to me why I've always felt tugged in two directions at once. It has never been incredibly difficult for me to join in on the postmodern critique of modernity; the Gen-X critique of Boomers; the emergent critique of the seeker-service; and so on. Whatever you want to call it, I feel it in my bones.
But it isn't so easy: I am just as suspicious of my critique as I am of the one I critique. I am postmodern enough to believe that it isn't so black and white as all that---as if modernity is all bad and postmodernity all good; as if my generation will be able to right the wrongs of evangelicalism past without in turn bringing new and even worse wrongs to evangelicalism future; as if we are the enlightened ones whose first step ought to be to shrug off the lies and errors of our fathers. Uh-uh. I'm with Elijah: My ancestors may have had some problems, but the harder I try to fix them the more I discover that I am no better than my ancestors. We've seen generation after generation err by over-reacting to the one before. Too many babies have been thrown out with the bathwater. The errors of today's evangelicalism are the over-reactions to the evangelicalism which preceded.
But lest this become a rant instead of an introduction, let me give a couple anecdotes from my life that illustrate why I look at it this way.
When I was a boy of 12 I was for the first time listening to rock music on my headphones---and it was so good. I was loving it. I had never really heard to anything like it and new vistas of experience were opening on my horizon.
But all the time I listened I was full of this debilitating and deathly fear that I'd be found out for being so rebellious; I'd be in huge trouble for brushing the dark side---and this new world of music that had just opened up in front of me would be taken away by my parents forever.
Then one day it happened: I was listening to this music and my Mom was trying to talk to me. I couldn't hear. She spoke louder to get my attention. When I noticed I thought my time had come. I was busted. I don't recall exactly but I think I burst into tears. Turned out she was just telling me we had to go somewhere. That's all. She couldn't understand what I was so fearful of. What she and I both didn't realize, I think, was what a hold guilt and fear had on my young Christian heart. I felt guilty for pretty much everything and I was afraid of even more.
Now here's the crazy thing: The music was Micheal W. Smith! And my parents had not only overseen the purchase of the cassette but had given me the walkman! Why was I afraid? For the life of me I can't figure it out except to say that the fear (and guilt) that I felt crippling me growing up was part and parcel of the evangelical air I breathed.
I'm not going to try to say that guilt and fear don't have their place, but they are not the beating heart of the faith. Something went seriously wrong in my corner of the 2oth century evangelical world and many like me have not survived it. I am thankful that by the grace of God somehow the faith still has a hold of me, but at times it has been barely. Eventually the icy grip of guilt and fear squeezes the life out of it and you either run for cover or you find that there is something deeper to the faith.
This may sound like therapy, but so be it. One more anecdote: In grade 7 the San Francisco earthquake happened right before my eyes while I watched TV. Given my upbringing I was fairly certain the rapture was about to happen any moment. Unexpectedly, I became very afraid of being raptured. I did not want to go to heaven. I did not want to go to hell, either, don't get me wrong, but all I could think of when I thought of heaven was this eternal extension of my current experience. At the time I did not appreciate things like love and grace and peace and reconciliation and hope. Those things had certainly been taught in church but I didn't hear them.
I had heard about the slippery slope though. And it certainly kept me out of trouble. Something good might still be said about it. I had heard conviction of sin. And it certainly led me to Jesus. Something good might still be said about that too. I had heard all about the end-times. It certainly made me aware of the urgency of life, and something good might still be said about it as well, but beneath them I had nothing but a gaping hole where Jesus (and Christian community)ought to have been thriving but was breathing for air.
Here I was petrified of heaven because all I could picture was me sitting alone in a crowded church feeling completelly out of the loop . . . for ever. I was beside myself. I really was. Few things are as frightening in my memory as that time of my life.
What got me through was my dad praying with me. Notice that? I had the evangelicalism of my ancestors partly to blame for the trouble I was in, but I also had my living breathing ancestor to thank for leading me in Christian communion to engage the Jesus somewhere behind it all.
20 years later I am still working through all of this. My church upbringing is something I have become very thankful for. But it is also something I want to build on. Hopefully little conversation groups like this one can be some good therapy---I mean edification.
I doubt that ours is a period of transition which will smooth out the church experience for our children. I shudder to think of the messes I am leaving for my kids to clean up. But I take solace in the grace of God and I make it my goal not to pass on a heritage of my own achieved perfection, but the ministry of reconciliation that (whether it always realised it or preached it or not) has been the beating heart of the evangelical church all along.
hey Everyone,
Thanks for your thoughts Trev. I appreciated hearing your journey.
So my journey.... wow. I didn't grow up in a Christian home, started going to youth in Gr 10/11 and really dedicated myself to following God there. I was a pretty black and white/traditional thinker at college and early in my ministry as a youth pastor, but something started happening to me about 3/4 years in (about 5 years ago). I don't really know how it happened, but I started thinking a lot more about postmodern thought, culture, etc, etc. I took a great postmodern class in college (with Draper) but it didn't mean much for me. For some reason it started to click in different ways these years later. Colin and I had a lot of great talks that also helped me work through these issues (Colin paid me $10 to say that, and hey, ten bucks is ten bucks). If anything, I've started to move away from a lot of the traditional church elements, some I'm happy about, some scare me a bit. I'm starting on a church plant from our church with the desire to attempt a re-creation of church.....well, not a re-creation, but an avenue to allow a new creative voice to draw what church could be. Not so much talking by 1 person from the front, but a community. Not so much leader driven, but community driven. Not so much inwardly focused, but focused on the world here and abroad.
A book that has really challenged me lately is "Pagan Christianity". More than anything it allowed me to dream and think further than before.
I guess I could sum this up by saying that I don't fit in the church as it exists, nor do I necessarily feel wanted, nor do I want to fit in. I don't view the Bible as most people do on a Sunday. Truth is vague, grey, and more circumstantial than people want to believe. I can't stand being in a place where there is so much criticism and nit-picking. This isn't the environment I want to live in. But this group isn't about being critical. I want to help, in some small way, bring a new era of relevance to the Church as I believe there is need and merit to its existence. Thanks for listening. Feel free to ask any questions.
Scott
Thanks for your thoughts Trev. I appreciated hearing your journey.
So my journey.... wow. I didn't grow up in a Christian home, started going to youth in Gr 10/11 and really dedicated myself to following God there. I was a pretty black and white/traditional thinker at college and early in my ministry as a youth pastor, but something started happening to me about 3/4 years in (about 5 years ago). I don't really know how it happened, but I started thinking a lot more about postmodern thought, culture, etc, etc. I took a great postmodern class in college (with Draper) but it didn't mean much for me. For some reason it started to click in different ways these years later. Colin and I had a lot of great talks that also helped me work through these issues (Colin paid me $10 to say that, and hey, ten bucks is ten bucks). If anything, I've started to move away from a lot of the traditional church elements, some I'm happy about, some scare me a bit. I'm starting on a church plant from our church with the desire to attempt a re-creation of church.....well, not a re-creation, but an avenue to allow a new creative voice to draw what church could be. Not so much talking by 1 person from the front, but a community. Not so much leader driven, but community driven. Not so much inwardly focused, but focused on the world here and abroad.
A book that has really challenged me lately is "Pagan Christianity". More than anything it allowed me to dream and think further than before.
I guess I could sum this up by saying that I don't fit in the church as it exists, nor do I necessarily feel wanted, nor do I want to fit in. I don't view the Bible as most people do on a Sunday. Truth is vague, grey, and more circumstantial than people want to believe. I can't stand being in a place where there is so much criticism and nit-picking. This isn't the environment I want to live in. But this group isn't about being critical. I want to help, in some small way, bring a new era of relevance to the Church as I believe there is need and merit to its existence. Thanks for listening. Feel free to ask any questions.
Scott
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Trevor's Introduction... of sorts
I would daresay that the rest of the contributors already know who I am. I would also venture to say that this will likely be one of my shortest posts I've done so far (if you've read Ponderings and Musings, you will know that I have a tendency to write too much). My story in a nutshell is as follows.
I grew up in a Christian home and went to church and youth group and was basically a goody two shoes (although after taking my pre-employment polygraph for the police service I certainly didn't feel like a goody two shoes. Imagine all of your deepest darkest secrets from the time of your birth until now and explaining them in detail to a stranger who will know if you are lying or even not telling the whole truth. I imagine that is how judgement day will feel. It sure motivates a person to not have any secrets! Ahem. Enough for this bracketed aside). I was basically brought up in a fundamentalist evangelical setting with all of the other sub-cultural baggage that goes along with it. After High School I went to CBC and obtained a Bachelor of Religious Education. At CBC some of my pre-constructed theology about God was demolished, but for the most part I was still able to remain in the fundamentalist evangelical mold.
Upon completion of CBC, my wife and I moved to Japan where we lived for 3 years. It was there that I began my ride down the slippery slope of post-modern Christianity. For it was in Japan that I first began my personal studies of the Ancient Near East - and Assyriology in particular. For me it was much like that scene in The Matrix where Neo is offered the red pill and the blue pill.
Morpheus: I imagine that right now you're feeling a bit like Alice. Tumbling down the rabbit hole?
Neo: You could say that.
Morpheus: I can see it in your eyes. You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he's expecting to wake up. Ironically, this is not far from the truth. Do you believe in fate, Neo?
Neo: No.
Morpheus: Why not?
Neo: 'Cause I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life.
Morpheus: I know exactly what you mean. Let me tell you why you're here. You're here because you know something. What you know, you can't explain. But you feel it. You felt it your entire life. That there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is, but it's there. Like a splinter in your mind -- driving you mad. It is this feeling that has brought you to me. Do you know what I'm talking about?
Neo: The Matrix?
Morpheus: Do you want to know what it is?
(Neo nods his head.)
Morpheus: The Matrix is everywhere, it is all around us. Even now, in this very room. You can see it when you look out your window, or when you turn on your television. You can feel it when you go to work, or when go to church or when you pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.
Neo: What truth?
Morpheus: That you are a slave, Neo. Like everyone else, you were born into bondage, born inside a prison that you cannot smell, taste, or touch. A prison for your mind. (long pause, sighs) Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself. This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back.
(In his left hand, Morpheus shows a blue pill.)
Morpheus: You take the blue pill and the story ends. You wake in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. (a red pill is shown in his other hand) You take the red pill and you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.(Long pause; Neo begins to reach for the red pill) Remember -- all I am offering is the truth, nothing more.(Neo takes the red pill and swallows it with a glass of water)
I felt that I was not told the whole truth regarding the Bible. I felt somewhat deceived and, for lack of a better term, brain-washed. In many ways, I feel like I should have taken the blue pill and forgotten all of what I have learned and found out and go back to the way I was. But on the hand, would I really want to go back if I could? It's obviously too late now. Of course the analogy only goes so far. Anyway, the more I read about Assyriology, the more I found out that my presuppositions about the Bible and my faith were not entirely (if not at all)correct. I won't get into those details here. To hear about what I was studying, you can go and read my little essays I have posted on Ponderings and Musings. Needless to say, I was unable to continue being the Christian I once was and began my journey into a new kind of faith. This journey is still continuing (as is most people's journey of faith). Often times I feel like I am alone in what I believe, which is why I am personally excited about this blog as it will give me a chance to dialogue with others who will not condemn me as a heretic.
I grew up in a Christian home and went to church and youth group and was basically a goody two shoes (although after taking my pre-employment polygraph for the police service I certainly didn't feel like a goody two shoes. Imagine all of your deepest darkest secrets from the time of your birth until now and explaining them in detail to a stranger who will know if you are lying or even not telling the whole truth. I imagine that is how judgement day will feel. It sure motivates a person to not have any secrets! Ahem. Enough for this bracketed aside). I was basically brought up in a fundamentalist evangelical setting with all of the other sub-cultural baggage that goes along with it. After High School I went to CBC and obtained a Bachelor of Religious Education. At CBC some of my pre-constructed theology about God was demolished, but for the most part I was still able to remain in the fundamentalist evangelical mold.
Upon completion of CBC, my wife and I moved to Japan where we lived for 3 years. It was there that I began my ride down the slippery slope of post-modern Christianity. For it was in Japan that I first began my personal studies of the Ancient Near East - and Assyriology in particular. For me it was much like that scene in The Matrix where Neo is offered the red pill and the blue pill.
Morpheus: I imagine that right now you're feeling a bit like Alice. Tumbling down the rabbit hole?
Neo: You could say that.
Morpheus: I can see it in your eyes. You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he's expecting to wake up. Ironically, this is not far from the truth. Do you believe in fate, Neo?
Neo: No.
Morpheus: Why not?
Neo: 'Cause I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life.
Morpheus: I know exactly what you mean. Let me tell you why you're here. You're here because you know something. What you know, you can't explain. But you feel it. You felt it your entire life. That there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is, but it's there. Like a splinter in your mind -- driving you mad. It is this feeling that has brought you to me. Do you know what I'm talking about?
Neo: The Matrix?
Morpheus: Do you want to know what it is?
(Neo nods his head.)
Morpheus: The Matrix is everywhere, it is all around us. Even now, in this very room. You can see it when you look out your window, or when you turn on your television. You can feel it when you go to work, or when go to church or when you pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.
Neo: What truth?
Morpheus: That you are a slave, Neo. Like everyone else, you were born into bondage, born inside a prison that you cannot smell, taste, or touch. A prison for your mind. (long pause, sighs) Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself. This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back.
(In his left hand, Morpheus shows a blue pill.)
Morpheus: You take the blue pill and the story ends. You wake in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. (a red pill is shown in his other hand) You take the red pill and you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.(Long pause; Neo begins to reach for the red pill) Remember -- all I am offering is the truth, nothing more.(Neo takes the red pill and swallows it with a glass of water)
I felt that I was not told the whole truth regarding the Bible. I felt somewhat deceived and, for lack of a better term, brain-washed. In many ways, I feel like I should have taken the blue pill and forgotten all of what I have learned and found out and go back to the way I was. But on the hand, would I really want to go back if I could? It's obviously too late now. Of course the analogy only goes so far. Anyway, the more I read about Assyriology, the more I found out that my presuppositions about the Bible and my faith were not entirely (if not at all)correct. I won't get into those details here. To hear about what I was studying, you can go and read my little essays I have posted on Ponderings and Musings. Needless to say, I was unable to continue being the Christian I once was and began my journey into a new kind of faith. This journey is still continuing (as is most people's journey of faith). Often times I feel like I am alone in what I believe, which is why I am personally excited about this blog as it will give me a chance to dialogue with others who will not condemn me as a heretic.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Welcome and Question #1...
For awhile now I've been having conversations with friends and family about Christianity in general and Evangelicalism in particular. I know people who have been completely disillusioned with Christianity, I know people who have "gone liberal", and I know people who have "gone fundie." I don't know if these are just the inevitable growing pains that afflict people in their 20s and 30s, or if there is some kind of intrinsic shift going on in the evangelical church in North America. My guess is it's a little of both. In any case, all of these conversations gave me an idea.
I propose a conversation. This conversation will be open and public. Several people, from several locations (spiritually, sociologically, and geographically) have been invited to be official contributors. I'll start the ball by posting a few questions here and there. The official contributors answer the questions that strike their fancy however they like, and then readers are free to respond in comments. Challenge, encourage, fight, interact in whatever way you like. I have no idea if this will fly or not. My hope is that it will eventually pass a critical mass and become organic and self-sustaining, but it's just as likely (maybe more likely) that it will fizzle and die. In any case I think these issues are worth trying to talk about and this is a format that I think is promising.
The name. The name was a problem that I solved by just picking something obscure and bizarre. It does mean something to me, and is partly inspired by one of our contributors, but I'll leave the precise meaning to you.
The contributors. I'll let them all introduce themselves as and when they wish. When I signed people up I didn't say anything about pseudonyms one way or another. I use my name for reasons of my own, but if someone wants to post or comment anonymously, that's just fine by me. Those contributors that have blogs that I know about are listed in the blogroll. If you'd like your blog listed there too, just let us know and I'll link it up.
And now for the first question. We'll keep it light and autobiographical.
What's your story? With regard to faith and Christianity, who are you and where do you come from? You obviously found this idea interesting enough to sign up, tell us all why.
Well people, have at it.
I propose a conversation. This conversation will be open and public. Several people, from several locations (spiritually, sociologically, and geographically) have been invited to be official contributors. I'll start the ball by posting a few questions here and there. The official contributors answer the questions that strike their fancy however they like, and then readers are free to respond in comments. Challenge, encourage, fight, interact in whatever way you like. I have no idea if this will fly or not. My hope is that it will eventually pass a critical mass and become organic and self-sustaining, but it's just as likely (maybe more likely) that it will fizzle and die. In any case I think these issues are worth trying to talk about and this is a format that I think is promising.
The name. The name was a problem that I solved by just picking something obscure and bizarre. It does mean something to me, and is partly inspired by one of our contributors, but I'll leave the precise meaning to you.
The contributors. I'll let them all introduce themselves as and when they wish. When I signed people up I didn't say anything about pseudonyms one way or another. I use my name for reasons of my own, but if someone wants to post or comment anonymously, that's just fine by me. Those contributors that have blogs that I know about are listed in the blogroll. If you'd like your blog listed there too, just let us know and I'll link it up.
And now for the first question. We'll keep it light and autobiographical.
What's your story? With regard to faith and Christianity, who are you and where do you come from? You obviously found this idea interesting enough to sign up, tell us all why.
Well people, have at it.
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