:: in.a.mirror.dimly ::

We’re welcoming Jamie Wright as this week’s guest blogger in the Women in Ministry Series. You probably know about her incredible blog Jamie the Very Worst Missionary. 

I’m just gonna come out and say this: I never, ever, in a million years, wanted to be a “woman in ministry”. Never. And I never in my wildest dreams imagined that one day I would actually be one.

I grew up far from any church influence, so the very narrow example I had seen of women in ministry came mostly from television, where they were often portrayed in the form of nosy, judgmental, gossip-loving Bible-thumpers. As a teen, when I finally crossed paths with some real live women in ministry, I found them to be…well…nosy, judgmental, gossip-loving, Bible-thumpers. (“You know who’s going to burn in Hell? You, honey.” That’s how a youth pastor’s wife so gingerly shared the Gospel of Jesus with my 15 year-old self.)

Many years later, when my husband and I began the process of moving our family into full-time ministry, I wasn’t exactly aching for a chance to join the ranks of Pastor’s wives and Missionaries – at least not the ones I’d been exposed to, with their Bible tracts and sensible shoes, and their strong, loud opinions about who is going to burn in Hell.

The truth is, the women who ministered to my own wanting soul weren’t “women in ministry” at all. They were good neighbors and generous friends. They were soccer-Moms who took my babies off my hands for a few hours at a time, when I most needed help. They were steaming coffee dates where no subject was off limits, where laughter flowed freely and tears of anguish were met with tears of empathy. They were gentle spirits who whispered the Love of a Savior into my life, slowly and sweetly, because they understood that, through friendship, Grace abounds. It just does.

Those women didn’t work in churches. They had government jobs, they were part-time consultants, some were homemakers, one was a personal trainer, another ran a daycare. They taught me that there’s a really big difference between “women in ministry” and “women who minister”. And they showed me that a woman’s ability to deeply impact the world around her, her value in ministry, isn’t limited by her job title (or her husband’s).

That means that Missionary or not, I am a woman who is called to minister. Pastor’s wife or not, you are a woman called to minister. Sunday school teacher or not, your wife/sister/daughter/friend is called to minister.

Our neighbors and co-workers are counting on us to use our God-given gifts and abilities to bring Hope to this broken world. Our families and our friends are depending on us, with our uniquely feminine voices, to speak into their lives with wisdom and authority. And the God who created us, in all our girly glory, has released us to feed the hungry, care for the sick, love the unlovely, and guide the lost.

He has invited each and every one of us into ministry. Even the chick who never, ever, in a million years, wanted to be a “woman in ministry”.

About Today’s Blogger

Jamie writes from her home in Costa Rica, where she lives with her husband and three sons. She is best known for candid conversations about life and faith on her blog, Jamie the Very Worst Missionary.

If You Appreciate Jamie, Read This

I (Ed, the owner of this blog) couldn’t invite Jamie to contribute to this series without thinking of some concrete ways to support her and her husband Steve in their ministry. Jamie had no idea I was going to do this, but I’ve been plotting  a special ask of this series’ readers. Here it is:

1. Steve and Jamie are trying to figure out their next step in ministry. Will you commit to praying with them?
2. Whether they stay in Costa Rica or move someplace else, Jamie and Steve are going to need some serious bucks. They have poured themselves out in ministry to others, and I would like you to prayerfully consider donating toward their ministry. In particular, can you give at least $10? They have some major expenses coming up that we can help them meet so that they can focus on their ministry and family. Go here to donate: Donate at PayPal Now.

About the Women in Ministry Series

The Women in Ministry Series is a collection of guest posts that aims to:

• Provide an alternative to the women in ministry debates by telling the stories of women in ministry.
• Encourage women to explore their God-given callings.

You can stay updated on the latest post each week by signing up for the weekly e-mail list. (You also get a free E-book if you sign up in January)

Comment Policy: Everyone is welcome to leave a comment. However, this series takes for granted that women are called by God into every facet of ministry. This is not the place to debate that point and such comments will be removed. Women have been told “no” in far too many places. This is one place that is committed to saying “yes.” For more about the comment policy, read here.

Next Week’s Blogger: Alise Wright

Last night something began to flicker in my mind. Ideas assembled and took shape. Order emerged out of chaos, and I knew what I had to do.

Turning down the heat and yanking the chain on my desk lamp, I closed every window on my computer save for Word, and I started to write late into the night. Well, I stopped sometime around midnight, but that’s mighty late for someone who aims to be in bed by 9:30 most nights.

I had forgotten what it’s like to be completely immersed in my writing. I’d hit a burst of inspiration that I’ve been missing for many months. In fact, I hadn’t felt that good in four years.

It was like I rediscovered a part of myself.

Last night reminded me why I love the chaotic, uncertain, freewheeling life of writing. I really needed that moment of excitement and pure joy where the words flowed onto the page. Never mind the editorial bloodbath that awaits them. Such is the fate of all first drafts.

I don’t care what becomes of those words. I only care that I was able to string them together with such clarity of mind and ease.

How easily we lose sight of our first loves. There are so many things that can eat up our time. So many distractions can help us forget.

I’ve been fighting to regain my writing time, jumping on any opportunity to ride a wave of inspiration. The wave that hit last night carried me quite far—so far that I’ve been reminded why I love writing so much.

My one regret is that I didn’t ask myself sooner: “What do you love and what is keeping you from it?”

In case you’re wondering, I always turn down the heat when I write late at night so that I only stay up if I still have good ideas. It’s too tempting to stay up late on Facebook or ESPN, so crank down the heat, keep my fingers moving, and go to bed with my mind empty and my body shivering.

Yesterday, I searched for general “leadership failure” and the overwhelming results mentioned the failure of Christian leaders.

From affairs to power struggles to personal meltdowns, the internet results suggested that Christian leaders have issues with time management, character, sin, relationships with colleagues, and communication. Are Christian leaders alone in the failure department?

I dug into general leadership failure trends, and I found an article at Psychology Today that shared the following numbers:

“In the past two decades, 30% of Fortune 500 CEOs have lasted less than 3 years. Top executive failure rates [are] as high as 75% and rarely less than 30%. Chief executives now are lasting 7.6 years on a global average down from 9.5 years in 1995. According to the Harvard Business Review, 2 out of 5 new CEOs fail in their first 18 months on the job.”

Those are some pretty staggering numbers. The article goes on to suggest a number of reasons why leaders fail. These include hubris, resistance to change, and hostility toward colleagues.

It’s hard to say whether the existing conventional wisdom on leadership is inherently flawed or whether these washed up CEOs are simply failing to execute wise practices. Likewise, it’s hard to point to a cause behind the failure of Christian leaders. Do we expect too much from them? Are they just as sinful as the rest of us?

I’m honestly the last person to prescribe a path forward for Christian leaders, but I’ve seen what seminary students and pastors read when it comes to leadership. I know what church leaders talk about and where they look for their examples of excellent leadership.

Our church leaders look to the business world for lessons on leadership.

Can we learn something from good leaders? Sure. This is not a black and white matter.

The main point for consideration in my view is that we need to ask whether the high failure rate of CEOs in the business world tells us anything about the quality of the advice in our business books. Even if a small percentage of CEOs can rise to the top, overcome tremendous odds to succeed, and publish a book about “how they did it,” should we fawn over the advice they offer? What works for a small group of successful CEOs may not apply to other CEOs, let alone the pastors who read leadership books.

What’s more, if that Psychology Today article is right about CEOs failing because of pride, resistance to change, and failure to communicate, the solutions to these problems are not necessarily found in leadership books.

Do you struggle with pride? The cross has something to teach you about that.

Do you fight change? The Holy Spirit can change your mind.

Do you fail to communicate effectively? Love will help your relationships stay healthy.

The failure of a church leader is a tragedy, but today it’s not surprising. In fact, church leaders are in good company, since the leadership models that many churches follow seem to produce high failure rates in the business world as well.

Christianity has something to say about leadership, failure, restoration, and rethinking a new way forward. A good place to begin is admitting that the CEO leadership model is not the most healthy way forward for our leaders and their churches.

The solutions to our problems may be right under our noses.

Over the weekend our kitchen was full of bowls with hacked up apples, huge pots boiling with water, a food mill, and rows of quart jars. The promise of homemade applesauce for the long winter prompted us to spend the bulk of our Sunday hard at work in our kitchen scrubbing, cutting, boiling, and ladling.

I like to play the part of the menial slave who just focuses on one big project: washing the apples, cutting the apples, etc. My wife is far better suited for the supervision and “big picture” part of canning. She’s good at reading recipes and devising a plan.

I’ve never been good at following recipes. I usually forget something. Knowing this tendency, I could stand in front of a cook book for hours trying to make sure I got it right. If I was in charge of making the applesauce by myself, there’s a chance I could still be standing in front of the cookbook today.

When you’re canning something, you need to follow the instructions carefully to ensure everything stays sterile and that you cook your fruit/vegetables enough. The instructions are important, but the nourishment comes from putting them into practice and making something. No actions, no applesauce, no matter how well I think I understand the instructions. In fact, the instructions aren’t doing me much good without the applesauce they’re supposed to produce.

Theology often needs more applesauce.

That is to say, if theology provides us some critical instructions and guidelines relating to the nature of God, they’re only useful to the point that we actually meet the God we learn about. Our nourishment is knowing God and doing his will—it’s like eating a warm loaf of bread.

For all of my pouting about following recipes, the irony is that I often prefer just reading theology over putting it into practice. I’m malnourished because I miss out on God’s sustaining presence. If I’m not producing fruit that will last—or fruit that is “preserved”—there’s a chance that I’ve put too much value on learning “about” God rather than living “with” God.

Recipes are useful for pointing us in the right direction. We need good recipes just like we need good theology, but if the recipes don’t lead to something substantial and life-changing, we’re probably just starving ourselves.

There are four kinds of sermons or Bible studies I have heard over the years. Only two have the potential to do us much good, and only one is fully grounded in reality. Here’s a thumbnail sketch of each kind.

Sermon A

Here is truth.

Sermon B

Here is truth, go do something.

Sermon C

Here is truth, let God do something through you.

Sermon D

Here is truth, let God do something through you, or else.

What Should We Do with Truth?

As you can tell, I belong to an evangelical tradition that prizes truth and sound doctrine. Though we may squabble amongst ourselves over some of the details, we all value what God has to teach us. We read scripture, we pray, and we, hopefully, listen for the Holy Spirit’s leading.

However, sermon A simply aims to give us information. Certain traditions lean more toward this because they believe so strongly that God alone saves us. They’d say our goal is to change our minds and our actions will follow, and therefore new information is sufficient.

The preacher of Sermon B realizes that God’s desire is to change us into his kind of people, but it doesn’t point people to the Holy Spirit’s power in their lives. It skips to the results and forgets the process that brings them about.

That’s where Sermon C comes in. Jesus said to abide in him and we will bear much fruit. Sermon C tells us truth and connects us with God’s power for love, joy, and good works.

Our lives should change. Obedience is very important, but it’s not up to us to make it happen. The “work” we do as branches is abiding in Jesus, our vine. If we want to get results, we don’t focus on producing the results. We focus on the vine.

However, if we stop here, we have missed something key in passages such as John 15.

The Consequences of Disobedience

God’s love and grace is inexhaustible and given to us freely. God forgives and saves anyone who turns away from sin and calls out. However, the goal of saving us is to give us his love and joy, manifesting his coming Kingdom to others and sharing his love.

Obedience is essential. If we run off to do our own thing, there are consequences. At the start of John 15, Jesus mentions the “non-fruitful” branches being cut off—twice.

I’ve grown up in hell-fire fundamentalism. I’m turned off by preaching with threats or dramatic imploring to be saved from the fires of hell or whatever they call it these days.

I don’t like the idea of telling someone, “Resist God long enough and you’ll be cut off the vine! Don’t get mad at me. It’s in the Bible”

But then the words of Jesus are very tricky to preach. He doesn’t give us a chart or a formula for disobedience that tells us when someone will be cut off. He just says it could happen. God’s love is here for us to enjoy, but it can be resisted, ignored, and ultimately lost.

If not for the trauma of my fundamentalist past, I could accept that without too much fuss. This is far from the angry, vengeful God who is crouched behind a corner waiting for me to slip up. This is God the ignored lover who will let us go our own ways if we so choose.

A branch that refuses to be part of the vine will wither plenty on its own. The act of cutting it off is only a final formality. It’s not like God is chopping off partially healthy branches that simply need to be rehabilitated.

As we consider the love of God for us, I pray that we can see God’s generous, unearned, and inexhaustible grace for what it is. I pray that we can abide in the love that Jesus has for us and that our lives will bloom with the fruit of his love and goodness. And lastly, I pray that we’ll remember that there are consequences for persistent disobedience and resistance to this love.

May we be drawn to God by his love and arrive at a place where we can’t imagine another day without it.

I had a bit of a grumpy afternoon yesterday. We were expecting thunderstorms, and I somehow got into a huff about our afternoon being ruined by rain and lightning and hail the size of hamsters.

I wanted to be outside, enjoying sunshine, not keeping a constant eye on each new wave of dark clouds.

I don’t know what gets into me sometimes. I just sort of a stew a bit and somehow I get worked up for a few hours. It passes, and I realize that the world isn’t so bad a place. We have rabbits who frolic about our home. There is coffee to drink each morning. Blueberries are in season.

Life is good.

I was praying this morning, and I began to think about Jesus’ teachings about fruitfulness in Matthew 21. Without sounding too dramatic, Jesus said that bearing fruit, i.e. producing the kind of life that God desires, is really, really important.

Ethics and practice are inextricably tied to our salvation in the Kingdom of God. Jesus wants people who actively reflect God’s character and nature. If we don’t reflect God’s nature, then we need to figure out who our Lord truly is and which kingdom we’re living in.

I began to think that I hadn’t been all that fruitful yesterday. Then I realized that I’d been plenty fruitful to a certain degree, but I’d been producing the wrong kind of fruit.

Yesterday I was producing the fruit of control and selfishness, wanting things to go exactly according to my plans. Rain in the afternoon, eh? Then I’ll just be tense, grumpy, and moody about it—introducing my fruit.

We’re always producing something. The scriptures make it really clear that the fruits of God’s Spirit are things like peace, hope, self-control, and even patience for dealing with rabbits who nibble on coffee tables. It shouldn’t take us long to figure out what’s influencing us based on the fruit we’re producing in our lives.

If you’ve had a yesterday like mine, take heart. God wants us to be fruitful. He’s not sitting back waiting for us to let him down. He wants to help you and me rest in his perfect strength today and make a clean break from yesterday. We can produce good fruit today because God is passionate for his people, compassionate when we repent, and powerful enough to change us.

I pray that you’ll produce fruit today that results from time spent resting in God’s presence, enjoying his favor for you. May you abide in his goodness and love, allowing his power to bring about good works and joy in your life.

Did you read what a celebrity pastor wrote on his Facebook wall?

I hope not. However, if you did, I’m pretty sure you heard about it because other Christians told you about it.

Ironically, you, your non-Christian friends, or anyone who may feel “bullied” or “attacked” by his insensitive remarks would probably never have heard what he wrote if some other Christians hadn’t made a big public outcry out of it.

And that leads to a dilemma when we deal with offensive Christian celebrities.

We feel like remaining silent just lets them win. If we don’t speak out, we’re letting down everyone who is wounded by this pastor’s coarse jokes.

And so blog posts are written, the word spreads, and the message goes out: “Celebrity pastor is a bully, and we’re not going to stand for it.”

Unfortunately, the part that tends to stand out in people’s minds is the first part, “Celebrity pastor is a bully.” That’s what the news media wants to report on. That’s what will remind people of old wounds.

Here’s what I’m wondering about all of this…

In this particular instance, must we really care what some pastor on the west coast writes to his followers on Facebook? Yeah, a few thousand people read it, but then he writes something else about Jesus being a cage fighter with tattoos or whatever and his insensitive remark fades away.

Very few people who could actually be offended by his remarks would have actually read them. He’s going to keep making them, and the sooner we leave him alone with his remarks and his gang of followers, the better. The perception of an assault from outside of his ranks only strengthens him and convinces his macho followers to ignore any calls for change (see the Backfire Effect).

Is there another way forward?

I have a couple of examples in mind, but the most powerful example I can think of is the “It Gets Better Story” in the aftermath of a teen’s suicide over homosexual bullying. Fort Worth councilman Joel Burns shared his own story of growing up as a homosexual, and his vulnerable moment overshadowed all of the outrage and transformed that horrible situation into a beautiful step forward.

Granted, there wasn’t a celebrity or organization to target, but the story changed from teen suicide to open dialogue about supporting teens during a particularly fragile time in their lives. Instead of focusing on the offense, everyone’s attention turned to healing.

How could anyone listen to such a real, powerful story and persist in bullying someone? (Well, let’s hope at least, eh?)

I think that could provide us with a good path forward in this particular case.

While it would be appropriate to confront a pastor in our own congregation, a nationally known celebrity who makes offensive remarks is another matter. Offensive celebrities need to be drowned out by a counter-message so that they can fade into their own obscurity—especially since this pastor’s personal brand is being offensive.

We need to drown out his message because once we confront him publicly, we give him free publicity that he probably wants and spread his message to people who don’t need to hear it. I doubt very much that he cares about critics outside his congregation and affiliations. He probably doesn’t even have time to consider it.

Therefore, the best way I can think of countering an offensive message, such as the one delivered on this pastor’s Facebook wall, is to tell stories of Jesus’ radical love and inclusivity and how those stories have shaped us—how we’ve put his love into action. This macho pastor would probably want to punch himself in the face if he ever understood the extent of Jesus’ radical, inclusive love that accepted sinners who were willing to repent.

That is, he’d punch himself in frustration for underestimating the love of God.

Dealing with celebrities and public figures is not the same as dealing with someone in your community. We can personally confront someone in our community, and if they want to be part of our community, they will reform. Celebrities don’t have the same things at stake.

Celebrities thrive on exposure. They draw their power from attention. If we deny this pastor the oxygen of attention, his flame that burns so many can be reduced to a tiny spark that few will notice or care about outside of his immediate circles.

And while we may think we’re somehow standing up for someone by opposing this man, the truth is, we really aren’t adding anything constructive. We are just telling others what we’re against. We need to oppose offensive remarks with real neighborly love to people around us, creating stories that overshadow what this pastor has done.

This is not the easy way forward. It will cost us our lives to create stories powerful enough to overcome messages of intolerance, hate, and fear. But the costly path of love is the only way I can think of changing what this pastor writes on his Facebook wall.

Perhaps one day this pastor will ask for examples of the best ways his readers have been loved in a time of need. He’ll only do that if we give him something to write about.

Two years ago the new editor for a book project wrote to me saying that I needed to completely rewrite my draft. While he had some good suggestions, he also strongly disagreed with me on some issues where he asserted that I “didn’t add any wisdom to the topic.”

Ouch!

In my defense, I’d say that part of the problem was he just didn’t like my perspective or theology since I didn’t hold to his extremely conservative views, but that’s a whole other story about a book that was never published but taught me a ton of lessons. We parted ways cordially, but I’ve often thought about whether my writing is adding wisdom since receiving that e-mail.

It’s a good question for writers and especially bloggers to ask themselves.

Are we writing about a controversy or really anything popular just to get page views, to make ourselves look smart, or to vent some self-righteous rage (hello Casey Anthony trial)?

I’ve been asking myself those questions a lot over the past year, and the answers are not always heartening. My goal in writing is to be redemptive, helping others take positive steps forward. Too often I’ve aimed to just say something, to vent some anger, to share an opinion, to whine, to show my righteousness, or to even get a bit of traffic.

I’m not an expert on writing stuff that actually helps, but I’ve noticed that asking a few questions lead me to posts that are a bit more helpful for readers:

• Do I personally have a unique perspective to add to a discussion?
• Will my perspective actually help people? For my Christian topics, will they help others love God or others better?
• Am I adding clarity, new information, or practical action steps?

Those three questions have saved me from writing some hand-wringing, self-righteous, snarky, whiny posts. I was going to write this post last Friday but, ahem, decided to sit on it for reasons I will not mention…

We’re all capable of writing a bad blog post, and I think there’s so much garbage on the internet, that it’s worth trying to say something that is redemptive and constructive. Otherwise, we’re just adding to the noise.

Something that’s been on my mind and heart over the past few months has been the nature of many online conservations. This is tough to talk about because I think there are a lot of great people who are advancing good perspectives that we need to consider.

Our problem is more with our approach to writing about them.

As I look back at all of the controversies of the past few months, I’ve been asking myself how many of the blog posts I’ve read have actually helped me live better, loving God and others more, and whether I’ve actually helped anyone with my own contributions.

It’s funny that in a multiple choice test, I can pick out what Jesus said is most important, what commandments come above the others. However, when I have to apply that answer to my daily decisions, I can gravitate toward discussions and topics that pull myself away from that simple answer.

If Martin Luther was around today, I think he’d write something a little snarky like, “Application is a bitch.”

That application part is so hard. Whether we’re poking and prodding one another over hell, venting fury over a pro-gay ad that was posted instead as an article on a progressive evangelical website, or speculating over whether someone is guilty of a crime, the less our conversations are about us personally, the worse they will be.

So long as I can write about “these people with an agenda” or “those people who want to ruin Christianity,” I’m not writing about my own issues and the thousand other things we have in common with others—the very things we’d probably discuss if we sat around a circle at a barbeque and drank beer together.

With all of the uptight, angry blog posts out there, perhaps some days we need less blogs and more beer, but that’s another discussion… (wink, wink).

Whether we realize it or not, our writing is about us. We reveal our priorities and values each time we hit post. I hope that our writing reveals people who want to help others, to especially encourage others in the pursuit of God’s love and holiness.

For all the times I’ve failed to offer something constructive, I’ve also enjoyed receiving notes from readers who have been encouraged to read about my struggles and attempts to sort things out. Those notes are the most rewarding part of writing, and they remind me that writing is a hollow, empty pursuit without keeping the reader’s best in mind.

For all of the vanity that writing entails, it is liberating to remember that the best writing is a gift to others.

We have been sorting through some old pictures as we try to downsize our boxes before moving next week. I’ve flipped through albums that were literally nothing but shots of Flyers games. We had pretty good seats, but I still can’t believe I thought that each picture I took would look all that different from the twenty others I had snapped.

Other pictures document parties in high school, family vacations, and odd college outings such as our disco bowling night. A lot of these pictures feel kind of awkward to me, perhaps digging up memories of insecurity, uncertainty, and turmoil in my family.

It makes me glad that I didn’t have a digital camera that would allow me to take 80 pictures of every single event and then shared with hundreds of people at once on the internet.

I catch myself in a kind of retrospective self-loathing when I look through old pictures.

That’s when I didn’t understand how to listen to Julie.

That’s when I judged people for listening to secular music.

That’s when I was stupid enough to have a crush on a girl who was completely wrong for me.

That’s when I didn’t feel accepted.

There’s a temptation to hate myself when I look back. If I’m not careful, it can creep into the present as well.

Heck, I may as well dread how awful I’m going to be in the future while I’m at it.

This self-absorption in my self-perception is a never-ending downward spiral that will not only make us miserable, but will also alienate us from others. It’s not rooted in reality, even though I’m sure I was sort of a tool at times.

As I look back on my friends, I don’t remember any of them as terrible people. Even the ones who wronged me have been forgiven—we’ve moved on and made new, better memories. I have grace for my friends, and therefore I’m pretty sure that they have grace for me.

OK, maybe there’s still someone who has it out for me. It could happen!

By digging up my memories of the times I was terrible, I’m acting like someone who can’t forgive and forget. I have to keep digging up the terrible stuff from my past in another doomed attempt at making things right. I have to remember what kind of person I really am.

I can’t forgive myself some days. And yet, God is fully capable of forgiving me.

God takes the terrible out of us. He has conquered the power of sin and death, and that includes the guilt of our past and the dread of the future. He rewires us by lavishing his love on us—and I don’t use a potentially cheesy word like “lavish” lightly. This is the firehose of God’s love (UHF reference).

To not only know but to experience the depths of God’s love is to experience radical acceptance that will not tolerate excuses or caveats. The past is healed, and the future is hopeful.

I can still bury myself in those old photo boxes and lament that I’m a terrible person. I can move away from God’s love.

However, his mercies are new every morning. He takes terrible people again and again. For those who are willing to sit in his presence, to wait for his deliverance, and to walk throughout their days mindful of him, there is love, peace, joy, and the end of all that is terrible.

When we abide in God, we can remember that we are loved people.

I grew up attending several conservative Protestant churches. They weren’t bad places to learn about Jesus.

For the most part the people I met there sincerely loved God, prayed, and read scripture. I don’t have any entertaining stories about tyrannical pastors. My pastors over the years have been friends and mentors.

However, there was this overall vibe or driving force among us in the conservative churches I grew up in. I can’t point to any one enforcer off the top of my head, but then again, perhaps we were all enforcers. In fact, that’s probably what made this vibe so troubling.

The vibe I felt was fear.

We were all afraid of being exposed as sinner, of being unfaithful to scripture, of being condemned for our worship preferences, of being singled out because of our doubts, and a list of other offenses that grew longer the more conservative you became. I attended this one fundamentalist church in my Jr. High years full of kind people, but they had the strangest list of rules against things such as not going to see movies in public since someone may see you in the theater and think you’re there to watch porn or something.

Don’t get me started on the Harry Potter books.

There are thousands upon thousands of Christians like me who grew up in relatively good churches but were surrounded by this vibe of fear and control. The worst churches actively use fear for their agendas or at least incorporate fear-based campaigns from other organizations that mangle the banner of Christ for their own gain.

The consequences of fear can be devastating.

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