Over the years I went through a crisis of faith. In many ways I knew this would be coming, but at the same time I dreaded it. I didn't know exactly what to do with it. My doubts came in spurts. It started with the reverse culture shock of moving back to the United States from Germany and culminated with my termination as an officer (pastor) in The Salvation Army and my eventual resignation as a soldier (member).
During that time, I realized that there was one thing missing in my faith community: I didn't have a secure and safe place to express my doubts. Doubts were forbidden. Doubts were a sign of weakness in one's faith. To publicly express doubts invited censure and condemnation, or at the best, a sincere attempt at trying to kindly correct one's wandering. The words "backslider" and "heretic" were often bandied with glee. It was then I realized that it was no longer helpful for me to stay in such an environment. When people began to question my salvation, whether or not I were going to Heaven when I died, or even if I were a good person, then I knew it was time to leave. I could no longer find good fellowship with those who condemned me. It was even worse when I had to fight to simply fight to be a member. Anne Lamott is quoted one of her priest friends as saying, "The opposite of faith is not doubt. It's certainty." (From Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith)'' That statement brings me a lot of hope. It is OK to have doubts. Having doubts is a part of faith. When I become certain of any faith related issue, what need do I have of faith then? Doubt is a natural part of faith. We should encourage questioning. Living with our doubts will help sustain and fortify our faith. In my next few blog posts, I plan to explore my own personal doubts: from the Virgin Birth to the existence of God.
"I'm going to beat the homosexuality out of you!" And with those frightening words, I entered the realm of being persecuted for being bisexual. It's been two years, but I still recall that night as if it were today. I smelled the alcohol on his breath and the dank odor of cigarette smoke. I remember my eyes bulging as his arm squeezed my throat. My glasses warped in its lenses. The adrenaline pumped through me. My assailant yelled, "I'm going to kick you like a dog in a cage!" Somehow I recalled the words of Jesus clearly, "You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you that you must not oppose those who want to hurt you. If people slap you on your right cheek, you must turn the left cheek to them as well." (Matthew 5:38-39 CEB) Looking back on it, I realize just how difficult those words are to obey. I started seeing colors swimming in front of my eyes. I couldn't breathe. The only thing I tried to do was to try to pry his arms off of me. All of the sudden I could breathe. His arms were off of me and he was kneeling a short distance away from me with his hands behind his neck. My glasses couldn't stay right on my face and I gulped huge breaths of air. My neck muscles hurt in ways they never had before. I looked at him as the police quietly put handcuffs on him and hauled him away. And with that, my life was forever changed. I had been walking the borderline of coming out for such a long time. I didn't know how my friends, colleagues, and family members would take it. I had hope that people would accept me. People knew my reputation. They knew my heart. They knew me as a person. I was still the same person. I still love British humor and could recite Monty Python and the Holy Grail from memory. I still had a quirky taste in music and listened to grunge music after playing Gustav Holst. People knew me. That shouldn't change anything. Right? How wrong I was. One of my family members, after learning about the assault and what happened to me and why I was attacked, told me, "You know that being gay is a sin. Right, Tim?" I had been assaulted and it was as if I had been blamed for the assault because of my orientation. I didn't even correct them that I am bisexual, not gay. My Church would accept me. Wouldn't they? After all, we talk about welcoming everyone and loving everyone without discrimination. Then I was told I was terminated with cause as an officer (pastor) in The Salvation Army. My beliefs on LGBT inclusion were a huge contributing factor. I soon realized that they welcomed you at first, but you have to conform in order to belong. If you disagreed with their theology, you were no longer welcome. Many people in the LGBT community are constantly ridiculed or put down because of who they are or whom they love. People throw verses at me as if this should convince me that they love me and that I am wrong. It reminds me of this comic from David Hayward (used with kind permission):
My story is, unfortunately, not unique. Just this past month, a teenage transgender girl was murdered and her corpse burned. The motives are as, of yet, unknown, but I can only speculate that it was motivated because of hate. I realize that my situation, although not so extreme, is not uncommon.
It is easy to hate those who are different than you. Somehow I believe that Jesus would in no way condemn anyone because of their orientation. Matthew 5 is one of my favorite scripture passages. It has become even more relevant to me in the Common English Bible translation:
If you love only those who love you, what reward do you have? Therefore, just as your heavenly Father is complete in showing love to everyone, so also you must be complete. - Matthew 5:46a and 49.
What does love look like? It certainly hasn't been what I've experienced from fellow Evangelical Christians.
Love is my sister not condemning me, but listening to me when I tell her the struggles of being bisexual.
Love is my pastor not even batting an eye when I tell him that I'm bisexual.
Love is watching my friend weep at reading the news of another murder of someone in the LGBT community.
Love is my friends resigning as pastors when they realize that they can no longer in good conscience serve a denomination that refuses to welcome all.
Somehow I think that Jesus would have new words of condemnation for us in this world:
"Get away from me, you who will receive terrible things. I was poor and you said I was too lazy to work. I was a refugee from war and you thought I would bring war to your country. I was an immigrant and you thought I would take away the jobs you refused to do. I was murdered by guns and you fought to keep the right to bear arms. I was black and being persecuted because of the color of my skin and you said I should be patriotic. I was gay and you kicked me out of your church."
I remember that night: choking, gasping for breath, my glasses no longer sitting correctly on my face. I realize now that Jesus was there, too.
I was baptized on 11 June 2017. I had never been baptized before.
For those who know me as a Christian, this will sound somewhat preposterous. However, I grew up in The Salvation Army, one of the few denominations that does not observe sacraments. They feel (as I still do) that the sacraments represent an outward sign of the change and relationship one has with God and with others.
While I was at Asbury, the university I attended, I found it quite interesting, listening to Baptists and Methodists argue with each other about how to baptize. Methodists tend to just sprinkle with water while Baptists insist that full immersion was necessary. The seminary I attended, Grace Theological Seminary, which is affiliated with the Grace Brethren movement, advocate a triune baptism: full immersion three times, one for each person of the Trinity.
So, when I was asked by fellow Christians how we baptize in The Salvation Army, I normally replied, "We dryclean." (This was normally precipitated by a long discourse about how The Salvation Army was a Christian denomination, despite the military overtones and jingoistic jargon.)
So why was I baptized? Many of you might have been familiar with my long struggle with acceptance in The Salvation Army. Since I started to question some long held tenets of The Salvation Army, I was no longer welcome as an officer (clergy) and a soldier (laity). I had to fight to be transferred to my local denomination. Even though I won the transfer of my membership, it was a bitter victory. I simply did not feel welcomed anymore.
I will grant this to my former officers (pastors): They did try to make amends for what happened and I have forgiven them; however, my beliefs of inclusivity with the LGBT community would not allow me to have a voice anymore in any capacity in The Salvation Army.
So I searched for a Church that would accept me as a bisexual person and where I could grow spiritually. I suddenly recalled a wonderful provocative speech from a Springfield pastor, the Reverend Dr. Phil Snider. I remembered watching this video when I was still an officer in Michigan. I felt that if this person had a congregation so close to me in Springfield, Missouri, then I would definitely want to check this church out.
This was the video I saw:
I came to the Church and was immediately welcomed with open arms. They listened to my story and didn't even flinch or blink when I explained that I was bisexual. When I told them my story, they loved me. All of them.
I told Phil that if ever I were looking to design a Church, it would look exactly Like Brentwood Christian Church.
I tendered my resignation as a soldier of The Salvation Army. That was very difficult to do. It represented my whole life of ministry and upbringing and 4 generations of continual membership in one form or another.
I started playing some of my favorite band music as I grieved that loss, but something better awaited me:
Acceptance.
One thing prevented me from being a full member of Brentwood: I needed to be baptized. I had never been baptized before. They would have even accepted a baptism from another church. However, since that had never happened to me, I felt that I could do this. The Disciples of Christ also do not believe that the form is necessary for salvation, but that it does represent my commitment to follow Jesus.
One thing I also realized: the sacraments are extremely important at Brentwood. My conclusion on the matter is this: since so many of their members had been shunned by other churches, especially those in the LGBT community, they were denied that fellowship through sacraments. To find a church that will allow them to celebrate the sacraments as a full member is life-changing.
So the day of my baptism came. I was nervous. I had no idea what to wear or to do. They thankfully heated the baptismal for me. I was provided with a robe to wear, too.
I may or may not have felt like this little boy getting baptized:
Also, I may or may not have had this song in my head before getting baptized. (Caution, NSFW as it is from the Book of Mormon.)
(The above video might be another reason why The Salvation Army does not perform baptisms.)
In all honesty, though, when the baptism came, I was overwhelmed by what happened.
My children came to witness me being baptized. I was so glad they were there.
Before being baptized, the Reverend Phil Snider introduced me with the following words:
Among many things, baptism symbolizes newness of life, a fresh start, a cleansing of heart, soul and mind from all that tries to take life from us. Tim is being baptized today as a reflection of his commitment to follow in the way of Christ. He's not a new Christian -- He's been a Christian for many years and exhibits deep Christian character. So much so that, a couple of years ago, when he made the pastoral decision to affirm LGBTQ persons, he was told he could no longer serve in the same capacity as a minister in his former church. But we are here this morning, standing with Tim, as we celebrate his Christian witness and his expression of love for all God's people. We celebrate his desire to follow in the way of Christ's unconditional love. And recalling that baptism is an ancient symbol that marks us as Christians -- as followers of Jesus -- and that celebrates our identity as one joined in the life, death, resurrection, and unconditional love of Christ, I now baptize you, Tim, in the name of the Creator, Christ, and Holy Ghost.
Despite the water, I began to cry a little after being baptized. I was humbled by the love and acceptance I felt. The acceptance and love that had been denied to me was once again extended to me.
Baptism means more to me than just salvation. It now means love and acceptance.
Today is Election Day in the United States. I can speak with nearly 100% certainty that the candidate I voted for will not be elected president of the United States.
And that's OK. I voted. I made my voice heard. However, as my picture shows, this was not easy at all. This has been a difficult election year for me. The candidate that inspired me, motivated me, and gave me hope for the future, Bernie Sanders, lost the nomination of the Democratic Party. He conceded graciously. However, he was and is an Independent Senator from the state of Vermont. When presented with the two choices of the two major parties in the United States, I was hesitant to support either. The first, Donald Trump, proved to me to be a misogynistic, fear-mongering person, who blamed another people group (Hispanics and Muslims) for the ills of the United States. Having lived in Germany and understanding so much of the German culture, this sounded too much like Hitler pointing out the social ills of Germany (of which there were many when he rose to power) and using the Jews as the scapegoat for their problems. Yes, for those keeping track, I invoked Godwin's Law. So be it. Unfortunately, just like Germany of 1933, Republicans for the most part bought his fear-mongering, hook, line and sinker and nominated him as their candidate of choice. As the nomination seemed to be more and more likely, I predicted that Evangelical Christians would find some illogical reason to support Donald Trump based solely on their one main voting issue: abortion. They were willing to sacrifice their character and their soul to find a conclusion based on sophistry about why it was important to vote for Trump. As horrible as I think abortion is and as sad as I think it is for women to have to resort to it, I do not believe that Republicans will ever make it illegal. They are simply using it to gain votes from Evangelicals Christians to maintain their power. (Just a side note on the abortion issue: address the reason why women have abortions and you will see the abortion rate sink, but that's for another blog.) If ever there were a reason to no longer identify myself as an Evangelical, the Evangelical community gave it to me with their overwhelming support of Donald Trump. For most people, they would then assume that I am voting for Hillary Clinton. That would be a false assumption. We humans tend to like to categorize things into polar opposites: Good vs. Evil. Republican vs. Democrat. Gay vs. Straight. Black vs. White. In reality, none of this is an easy choice and we fall more on a spectrum than we do to an either/or. This is evidenced by the soul-searching Evangelicals had to do to convince themselves to vote for Trump. I am neither gay nor straight. I am bisexual. I am neither a Republican nor a Democrat. I am a Green. And with that, I have cast my ballot for the candidate I know with almost 100% certainty will not be the next president: Jill Stein. For me, her policies most closely resembled those of Bernie Sanders while Hillary Clinton's does not. Does this mean that I "gave away" my vote to the other candidates? No, not at all. I voted and expressed my opinion on who I think should run this country. Is it in the minority? Absolutely. Does it count? Yes, it does. For my Democratic friends who believe that I contribute to the possibility of Hillary Clinton not being elected: well, maybe I did. However, I would be more concerned with the millions of registered voters in the United States who gave up their right to vote and instead refused to vote today. There is an apathy in the United States with our government. Instead of voting, most people give up. In so doing, they make the situation worse. I have often heard many voters say in this election that they feel they are choosing between the lesser of two evils. My only response to that is then: If that is what you believe, you are still choosing evil. If you are choosing the Republican candidate simply because he is a Republican, but doesn't represent your views, then you are simply concerned with maintaining power, not with making a difference in society. The same goes for my Democratic friends. Finally, we have so often forgotten the power of the opposition voice. If we remain silent, then we forfeit the tremendous strength we have in giving our opinions. Even though Jill Stein will not win the election today, she has reminded me of the importance of speaking out against injustice; to maintain the care of this fragile Earth, and to advocate peace over war. This video from Jill Stein exemplifies why I voted for her:
And with those horrible, gut-wrenching words, one of the worst fears of my life occurred: I was going to go through a divorce. I had been served divorce papers.
Now before any of you begin to think that I am going to trash my former wife or malign her family, you will be sorely disappointed. That would not be fair to her, to my sons, or to our family. You are free to speculate why the divorce happened. You are free to gossip about who was at fault, but you would miss the point of what happened: two people parted ways and both sides are hurting.
"What happened? How could this happen to me? Why?" All of these questions ran through my head as I tried to make sense of my life.
I now rank as one of those millions of people who are now or have been divorced. I feel the societal stigma placed on me.
Pain
I felt the most excruciating pain in my life. It ripped at my soul. It knocked me physically down. On the day my children and former wife left, as I remember the tears of my oldest son dripping hot on my cheek as he refused to let me go, I went through almost intolerable pain. My mind tried to block out the pain. My body refused. I went through each room my children and wife had been in. I smelled the scents of their presence. I picked up Lego pieces that were strewn across the ground by my boys and hoarded them as precious treasures.
The pain came on me in waves inexorably like waves crashing on the beach.
I nearly succumbed to the pain. It would have been so easy.
As the pain went away, I noticed something else creep into my life: bitterness. It tasted like poison. I was resentful to so many people and organizations: Resentful to my former wife; resentful to The Salvation Army, which made me homeless and took away the my livelihood, my insurance, my pension, and, perhaps most significantly, my identity. I was no longer an officer. I was no longer a respected person in the community. I was a disgraced ex-officer and a pariah. This was perhaps compounded by the fact that only 1 officer from my former division ever contacted me to find out how I was doing. No one else reached out to me to see how I was doing. No one reached out to me: not my divisional commander, not my officer friends, no one on the divisional headquarters, none.
A pariah. That's what I had become. Because of that, I felt bitter: bitter towards my former wife, bitter towards The Salvation Army, bitter towards the people I felt had wronged me.
I quickly realized, however, that this bitterness was rapidly becoming poison in my life. It ate away at my soul. I had become a recluse. I didn't want that in my life.
In one of my appointments as a Salvation Army officer, I recalled a tragic tale of a couple who went through a terrible divorce. The former husband held his bitterness almost as a badge of honor. He kept it. He showed it to anyone and everyone who would listen to him. He used it to blame others for what had befallen him. He was unhappy and, in an ironic sense, did not want to let go of that unhappiness. He cherished it because it had become part of his identity. He was a bitter man.
I did not (and do not) want to become that bitter man.
Blind
I actually had become blind to people who had been helping me out. The day my former wife and children left me, my counselor called me up on the phone and just listened to me cry. I realize now what I didn't realize then. He saved my life. I poured out my broken heart to him and he took it in. I cannot imagine the burden that must be.
I had friends show up at the last minute to help me pack and clean the last of my belongings. My family came and stayed with me, while I picked up the pieces of my life. I had another friend call me nearly every day, just so that I could talk and cry.
They saved my life.
My sister and brother-in-law invited me down to Detroit. When they asked what I wanted to do, my response was that I wanted to go to Canada and eat poutine. So we went. I ate poutine. I found a new comfort food. (Thanks, Canada! Sorry about singing the song, "Blame Canada," the entire time I was there.)
Unrequited Love
Finally there came acceptance and a realization of another characteristic of God I had never seen before. When I received the paperwork from the courts, informing me that my divorce was final and I was no longer married, I mourned. I cried. I reached out to family and friends.
Then I thought about God. How often does God reach out to us in love? How often do we reject God? How often does God try to persuade us to love? How often do we refuse?
There is a beautiful passage in Hosea about God calling out to Israel and Israel refusing to listen. It is very much the story of an unrequited love: a love that is not returned.
Although I realize that my marriage with my former wife will never be restored, I do realize that something special had happened. We shared 13 years of our lives together. We have three beautiful boys together and one child lost through a miscarriage. That can never be taken away.
Love is a wonderful and strange thing. Love is powerful.
One thing that I have realized now is that love goes beyond divorce. I had assumed that love was limited for me to being married. I was wrong. I believe that I would not be able to love again or find love outside of marriage. I was wrong.
Divorced Christians have had a stigma placed on them in large part by other Christians. I realize how wrong that is. No matter who we are: Christian, non-Christian; gay or straight; black or white, divorced, married or single; we are all deserving of love.
I have found love again.
The love of my children never left me. The love of my family never left me. I discovered a new love through a new Church.
Perhaps one of the most riveting stories in the Bible is the tale of the Good Samaritan. For those who are unfamiliar with it, here it is from Luke 10:25-37 (CEB):
A legal expert stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he said, "what must I do to gain eternal life?" Jesus replied, "What is written in the Law? How do you interpret it?" He responded, "You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself." Jesus said to him, "You have answered correctly. Do this and you will live." But the legal expert wanted to prove that he was right, so he said to Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"
Jesus replied, "A man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. He encountered thieves, who stripped him naked, beat him up, and left him near death. Now it just so happened that a priest was also going down the same road. When he saw the injured man, he crossed over to the other side of the road and went on his way. Likewise, a Levite came by that spot, saw the injured man, and crossed over to the other side of the road and went on his way. A Samaritan, who was on a journey, came to where the man was. But when he saw him, he was moved with compassion. The Samaritan went to him and bandaged his wounds, tending them with oil and wine. Then he placed the wounded man on his own donkey, took him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day, he took two full days' worth of wages and gave them to the innkeeper. He said, 'Take care of him, and when I return, I will pay you back for any additional costs.' What do you think? Which one of these three was a neighbor who encountered the thieves?"
Then the legal expert said, "The one who demonstrated mercy toward him." Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."
There are several things happening here and some cultural aspects that I want to bring to light. Many people have remarked before how the commandment quoted here is the most important commandment in the Bible. It encapsulates all other commandments. In fact, for me, it is the basis for how I live my life. It is can be summed up in these 4 words: "Love God. Love others." This commandment is so important, that many observant Jews will state this command several times during the day. I can imagine in this scene where the two rabbis (this unnamed scholar and Jesus) are testing each other. This scholar wants to somehow discredit Jesus, but Jesus gives this man a scenario that he probably never would have dreamed of. A man is injured after being robbed and mugged on the highway, left for dead. Two men walk past him: a priest and a Levite. Both the priest and the Levite (who was a person in the priestly caste system) had certain ceremonial responsibilities. If either of them were to stop and help the man, who most likely was bleeding, then they would be ceremonially unclean and would not be able to do their duties in the Temple. If the man were actually dead, they would definitely be ceremonially unclean. I am not certain on this, but I could imagine that most listeners of this would have nodded their heads. They could possibly imagine that the priest or the Levite might tell other people about the man so that they could help him. However, it was the Samaritan who helped him out. What is a Samaritan? Samaritans are a group of people, who still exist today, although in small communities, who worshiped the same God as the Jews did, but with noticeable differences. Samaritans were the product of interracial marriage between Jews and non-Jews that happened after the Assyrian conquest of Israel. Since they were of mixed race, they were despised by the Jews. The Samaritan Torah, which is nearly identical to the Jewish Torah, made notable exceptions in it to show that the Samaritans were properly worshiping God and not the Jews. This developed into animosity and racism between the two people. Neither groups of people liked each other. In fact, they despised each other.
So this Samaritan, this despised person, helped out his enemy. Normally the story ends there. Does it, though? I once told this story to one of my translators in Albania when I served with The Salvation Army there. However, I substituted the Good Samaritan for the "Good Serbian," who helped the injured Albanian. The reaction I had from him was shocking. He acted outraged that a Serbian would be so merciful: the enemy of his people who had driven them out of their homeland. His hate was palpable. (Click here to read more of this story.) However, let's take a look at the original question: What must I do to gain eternal life? With Jesus' parable, he implied something outrageous and . . . Dare I say it? . . . Heretical! This Samaritan was the one who had gained eternal life. This Samaritan had the wrong theology. He believed the "wrong" things. In fact, some people might even dare to say that this Samaritan did not even worship the same God as the Jews did. (I recently had a fellow Christian accuse me of not worshiping the same God as he did.) However, it was the Samaritan who gained eternal life, not because of what he believed, but of his actions demonstrating his love for God and others. This gives me pause. What about others who do good and show love for their fellow humans? The Muslim, the Hindu, the atheist? None of them accept Christ as their personal Savior. None of them follow Jesus. None of them say that Jesus is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life." However, it would seem that Jesus is saying that it is possible to gain eternal life, not by what we believe, but by how we act. What is the definite answer? I don't know. The reason I don't know is because I am not the one who determines who has eternal life and who doesn't. So I will not be so quick to mete out judgment on anyone, including those of a different belief system. Perhaps none of us should.
I was summoned to appear before my leaders when I was a Salvation Army officer (pastor). A screenshot of something I had written in a closed group on Facebook had been sent to our National Headquarters in Alexandria, Virginia and then sent to our Territorial Headquarters in Chicago.
"Did you write this?" I was asked.
I nodded in the affirmative.
"This is heresy."
I was silent.
What had I written? A fellow Salvationist (member of my denomination, The Salvation Army) in New Zealand was bemoaning the fact that the Bible was clear on homosexuality being a sin. I thought it very strange since this Salvationist was in a group dedicated to the inclusion of all LGBT people in the Church and especially The Salvation Army. I had responded to this young man that the Bible is rarely clear on anything. It is only our interpretation of the Bible that is clear.
For that, I was labeled a heretic by someone I used to respect. I was eventually terminated as a Salvation Army officer because of that and because I stand for LGBT inclusion. Being a bisexual Salvation Army officer did not help matters, either. There was another issue that precipitated my termination, but is not relevant to this discussion.
After my termination, I was denied membership in my local Salvation Army corps (church) because of my views on marriage equality. I had to fight to win that right to be a member.
My story is not unique. I have heard many others tell their tale of being wounded and bullied by the Church. The Church, who should be loving and like a mother, is more like a whore.
Dorothy Day said it perhaps best:
As to the Church . . . though she is a harlot at times, she is our Mother. - ("In Peace is my Bitterness Most Bitter," CW, January 1967)
What does one do when one is wounded by your faith community? This is the crossroads I am at right now. This past year has been a year of wounds for me, much of which has been caused by the Church.
Loss of ordination as a Salvation Army officer
Being called a heretic
Denial of membership in my local Salvation Army
Having to fight for that membership transfer
Spiritual Abuse . . .
I once was talking with a woman involved in an abusive relationship. She was having an affair with another man even though she herself was married. After this man had been convicted three times of assault, including on this man's current wife, she told me that she believed he was good in his heart and that he could change.
That's a hallmark sign of someone ensnared in an abusive relationship. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she stays with him and believes that she can change him. Nothing I could say could convince her of the dangerous situation she was in.
Am I in an abusive relationship with the Church?
I don't know. It feels at times like it is.
A Salvation Army officer told me recently that he does not believe I worship the same God as he does.
I was told by some other officers that it would be better for me to leave The Salvation Army and find somewhere else to worship.
I was called a heretic.
Why should I stay?
That's probably the hardest question to ask, but also the most important.
First off: My analogy of the abusive spouse is just that: an analogy. It would not be fair of me to characterize the entire Church as judgmental, exclusionary, and abusive.
I could start off by saying that I am a fourth generation member of The Salvation Army and it's tradition, but that's the wrong reason to stay. At the same time, I have so much history there. The Salvation Army imprinted itself on my soul and has formed a great deal of what my personality and character is. I would not be the person I am today without The Salvation Army.
The bullying I experienced was not dealt by everyone in The Salvation Army. In fact, I was never bullied by anyone in The Salvation Army during my entire service in Germany. The German Salvation Army is a wonderful group of caring people who regularly called me up to ask how I was doing spiritually and were always concerned about my welfare. Even though I made mistakes there, I was never condemned for them, simply corrected and helped. Danke, liebe Kameraden! Ihr fehlt mir.
Another reason I stay is the fact that I am not alone. There are many others in my denomination who think as I do. We stayed connected through social media, have discussions online, and even do book studies on matters that interest us. I know that if it weren't for this wonderful community, I would have succumbed long ago to resigning outright. I have also discovered another welcoming Church near me that has greeted me with open arms and accepted me for who I am. Their fellowship has nourished my soul and done much to help me on my spiritual healing.
What is the Church?
A friend of mine and fellow blogger, S. Bradford Long, recently wrote how much he hated Church. I read what he wrote and nodded along with every point he made: worship was anything but restful; sermons are often boring; Church was work.
Then I realized something: Church was more than that! I talked with him about it. These are my ideas of Church:
Church is not people coming together on Sundays.
Church is when I meet with my friends.
Church is when I eat dinner with my family.
Church is when I have a video chat with friends about books we are reading.
Church is the communal dinner I have on Wednesdays and the Bible Study we engage in afterwards.
Church is when a stranger listens to my broken heart over a Twitter chat.
We are the Body of Christ. Unfortunately, we tend to believe that there are cancerous parts in us and we treat it those parts (the people we disagree with) like radiation or chemotherapy, or worse yet, we cut them out altogether. If we are the Body of Christ, then we are not cancerous. Would Christ's body really be cancerous? Even if it were, are we even qualified as surgeons? I don't think so. Let the Great Physician deal with that. Paul writes:
You are the Body of Christ and parts of each other. - 1 Corinthians 12:27 (CEB)
What is perhaps more important to me is the verse before that:
If one parts suffer, all the parts suffer with it; if one part gets the glory, all the parts celebrate with it. - 1 Corinthians 12:26 (CEB)
The Church should be there to help each other out and support each other, not beat each other up. Unfortunately, we have not learned this lesson at all. Instead, we tend to ostracize and excommunicate those with whom we disagree. I have to remind myself that those with a different opinion are not attacking me, they are just disagreeing with me. Better yet, I also realize that I need to befriend those with whom I disagree. There is no "us vs. them."
My Decision?
So what is my decision? Do I stay or do I go? The Church is more than a membership in a denomination. I am enjoying the journey and am healing from the heartaches. This is my life. I have drawn no conclusions. Sometimes it's good to live in the tension.
Note: Thanks to S. Bradford Long for kindly allowing me to link to his article. Check out his blog! It's well worth reading!
