“That Sucks!”

Posted on July 30, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

Willie Wilde comforting his brother OscarHere are two words that I have come to believe can be powerful in expressing empathy:

That sucks!

(“That sucks!” can of course be moderated depending upon the recipient.  “That stinks!” or, “That’s awful!” or, “I can’t imagine!” or, “That’s not fair!” work well when the word  “sucks” would become the focus rather than your empathy.)

You probably won’t find “That sucks!” in any Pastoral Care textbook, or in any manual for caregiving.  But that phrase is effective in accomplishing what most folks who are suffering want – and I would argue what they need – that is to have their misery validated.  Those experiencing trials and tragedies need acknowledgement that what they are dealing with is dark and difficult.  They need to know that we, and by extension God, love them and their feelings, no matter how uncomfortable they might make us.

Selfishness is often at the root of our attempts to pull someone out of their mourning or grief or anger.  At least it is for me.  Those can be scary, uncontrollable, unpredictable emotions in another person.  We don’t want people we care about to feel bad.  It is our own discomfort we too frequently try to alleviate.

But hurt and suffering and disappointment are realities in this world of ours.  To deny that truth denies the validity of another person’s pain.

We deny another person’s pain when we respond to a struggle they share with any response that begins, “At least . . . ”   “At least you didn’t have both arms cut off,” or, “At least you had a job for 20 years,” contain the message, “What are you an ingrate?”

Better just to say, “That sucks!”

Similarly, “God never gives you more than you can handle” (which is not in the Bible, by the way), really says, “Why are you such a wimp that you can’t handle it?”

There is a cringe-worthy but wonderfully real scene in one of my favorite movies, “The Tree of Life.”  A mother is grieving the death of her adult son.  A well-meaning older woman pummels her with a passel of pious platitudes:

  You’ll have your memories of him . . . You have to be strong now . . .The pain             will pass in time . … Life goes on . . .People pass along, nothing stays the same . . .       You’ve still got the other two (children) . . . The Lord gives and the Lord takes  away, that’s the way He is . . . he sends flies to wounds that he should heal.

Wouldn’t it have been better to just acknowledge the mother’s pain and just say, “That sucks!”?

“That sucks!” recognizes that a situation is difficult.  It gives permission to be unhappy when that is an appropriate response, and conveys to a suffering person that they can’t, and aren’t expected by God to, handle everything on their own.  It opens the door  and extends the invitation to ask for help, from friends and from God.

God can handle our grief, and our hurt, and even our anger.  God’s love is infinite. So is God’s empathy.

I don’t believe it’s our job to cheer people up.  It is our calling, not just pastors but all of us, to do the more difficult work that makes us vulnerable; that is to enter into the grief and pain of those who suffer and experience it right along with them, as best we can, all the while acknowledging that we will never know exactly how they feel.

But believing that God can and does know exactly how we feel, and that God feels right along with us.

Posted in Christian Living, Christianity, Pastors | Tagged , , , , | 11 Comments

My Neighbor, Trayvon. My Neighbor, George.

Posted on July 18, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

The Good Samaritan by Dinah Roe KendallWhen the expert on the law asked Jesus “Who is my neighbor,” the lawyer’s intent was to limit his responsibility.  Surely his neighbors were only people just like him.  But Jesus answered not with a definition but with a parable, “The Parable of the Good Samaritan,” which taught, among other lessons, that neighbors are not limited by location or ethnicity or religion or anything else.

Trayvon Martin was my neighbor.  It is too easy to dehumanize him, call him “gansta,” to focus on the trace amount of marijuana in his system and on his history of fighting and school trouble.  But that caricature painted by defense attorneys is surely not all, or even mostly, who he was. Trayvon was a son, a brother, a friend, a child of God.   Yes, Trayvon made choices, some of them bad . . . but did any of them really warrant his being profiled as a threat on that night he went out to buy a snack?  Did any of them deserve a death penalty?

I hear the protests from those who are as white as I am.  “But Trayvon called George Zimmerman a ‘cracker.’  He was the racist.”  But the truth is, we need to be concerned with the planks in our own eyes, not the speck in Trayvon’s.

But we’d rather not look inward.  I’ve seen many Facebook posts in the past few days that bring up times African-Americans did this and African-Americans did that.   Watch out!  Watch out any time we have the opportunity to look at our own hearts and our response is “But those people . . . !” That is a sure sign we need to take stock of ourselves, that our pride – our sinful nature – is rising up to re-aim the mirror that should face us squarely.

I grew up in the south in the late sixties and there weren’t any people of color in our lives.  The only African American person I can ever remember seeing in my Virginia neighborhood was a maid who took care of a friend of mine during the day.  What stood out for me is that he introduced her as “Mary” in a world of southern formality where children were expected to call white adults “Mr. Smith” and “Mrs. Jones.”  Such is the subtle dehumanization of a segregated society.

School – and church – in Virginia were just as monochromatic. And when we moved to Florida where the schools were integrated, church was still a Caucasian bastion.  Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke truth when he said our country is more segregated on Sunday morning than at any other time.  Those words are still true today in most congregations.

If we don’t acknowledge our history, even (especially) in the church, of white privilege and racial division, then we will not be able to have an honest conversation with people of color who are still smarting from the experience, whether theirs personally or of their parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles.

“But they should be over it by now,” we protest.

It is not up to us white folks to decide when it’s time for African-American folks to be “over it.”

I’ve counseled couples where one or the other partner has cheated.  There are apologies and changes of behavior, and there often comes a point months later where the spouse who committed the transgression says, “I don’t understand why he/she doesn’t trust me yet.  I’ve changed.”  My answer is always the same – it is up to the spouse who was the aggrieved party to decide whether and when it’s time to trust again.

For decades African American folks learned not to trust.  First came the abomination of slavery, Jim Crow, segregation, lynchings, the lie of “separate but equal,” white resistance to integration, and all along a system that worked, as most systems do, to benefit those in power.  Although there were exceptions, power was held almost exclusively by white folks.

We can be thankful that things are better these days, but we must acknowledge that we  still have a ways to go.   Regardless of any progress,  it’s not up to those of us who do not know what it’s like to endure the reality and/or the legacy of racial oppression to decide when it’s time to trust. 

It seems to me, what we should do is to listen. Listen to the voices of African American men and women who cry out for justice.  Rather than responding, “It’s not so bad,” or, “But your people do” thus and so, perhaps the thing to do is to listen to the pain, to the hurt, to respond with empathy rather than judgment.

We walk to the other side of the road with the priest and the Levite in the Good Samaritan story when we minimize and refuse to listen.  Imagine if the Samaritan’s words on seeing the injured man in the ditch had been, “Oh, it’s not so bad.  I’ve seen a lot worse.  You’ll be all right.  That ditch isn’t so deep. Things are better now, those robbers have gone. It’s time to get over it.”   

But Jesus tells another story.  It is a story of binding up wounds, of compassion, of agape – love in action.  By making the Samaritan the hero, he also reminds us that being a neighbor means learning even from those who are “other,” even from those who are potentially our enemies.

We are called to learn from Trayvon.

And we are called to learn from George.  

George Zimmerman is my neighbor as well.  He is my neighbor even though I might find his conduct unfathomable.  As someone who can’t imagine carrying a gun much less discharging one toward another person, I do not understand his actions.  But who am I to judge – although I might be tempted to feel morally superior because I wouldn’t shoot somebody, I have an alarm on my house that, if anyone tries to break in, will summon police who will come with guns on my behalf.   They will certainly shoot if necessary to protect me . . . and my stuff.  That makes me at least a hypocrite.

It is the plank in my own eye, not the speck in George’s, that I must confront.

In the same way that I must listen to Trayvon, it is vital that I listen to George.  To hear the fear that led him to the choices he made on that fateful night, to try to understand what else might have led him to make those decisions.  I need to listen to his story, to listen for the roots of his distrust and frustration and perhaps anger that caused him to feel the need to follow and to make sure “another one” didn’t get away.

And I must not given into the temptation to see George simply in the context of this event.  In the same way Trayvon was more than his sometimes poor choices, there is more to George than his actions in the confrontation with Trayvon.  George is also a son, a brother, a friend, a child of God.

Whether or not the Georges and Trayvons of this world will listen to each other,  it is incumbent upon the church to be open to both, to hear and honor their stories.  We are called, I believe, to proclaim to the Georges and  Trayvons among us that God loves them without limit and without condition.  It is up to us to live out that love toward both the Georges and the Trayvons in our midst.

Because Jesus died for George.  And Jesus died for Trayvon.

The question for the church is not “Who is my neighbor?” because Jesus has already answered that for us.  Both Trayvon and George are our neighbors.  The question is, how do we live out the command to “Love my neighbor as myself?”

We are called to love Trayvon as we love ourselves.

We are called to love George as we love ourselves.

That is where we start.

Posted in Christian Living, Christianity, Church, Racism, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

Coming to Peace with the World (Disney World, that is)

Posted on July 13, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

Mickey_Mouse_head_and_earsThe relationship began with infatuation.  Our first, brief encounter lasted only a few days but I was totally smitten.  She was exciting and wonderful and new.  As I got older, it was only the excitement I craved, but what she had to offer wasn’t enough.  Somehow she was too tame.  I became jaded about her, noticing how much was only artifice. Her in-authenticity was galling.   I finally wrote her off.  I was done, our relationship was through.  She just didn’t thrill me any more. In fact, she embodied everything that I thought was stale and wasteful and avaricious about “traditional values.”  But now, older and hopefully wiser and not expecting her to be everything, I’m taking another look at our relationship.

I am talking, of course, about Disney World.

Less than two years after Disney opened their Florida theme park, my family made a pilgrimage.  For my fifth-grade self, it was a rush of images and experiences – The first palm trees we saw in Florida!  There’s a monorail track running through our hotel!  Topiary Disney characters!  Shaking hands with Mickey Mouse!  Fireworks!  Parades!    Tasting Lasagna for the first time!  The Jungle Cruise!

After spending a fortune to get us from Virginia to Florida and back in the summer of 1973, my dad was transferred to Florida the following summer and we moved just a couple of hours from the park.  I’m sure my dad appreciated the irony as he remembered how much he’d spent on train tickets and hotels.

For my sister and I, it meant Disney became an attainable family day-trip option, not a distant once-in-a-lifetime dream.  We became familiar with the layout, and what rides to do right away (Space Mountain) and which ones had lines that kept moving even when the park was crowded (Haunted Mansion).

When I got old enough to drive, a sign I had really grown up was the first time I went to Disney World with my buddies.  Yeah, it was Disney World, mostly for littler kids, but our parents felt it was safe enough to unleash us for the day.

Space_Mountain_Top_Platform (1)No parents!  We could avoid all the cheesy rides  and focus on only the best. The plan was always to get to the front gates right at opening time, then sprint to Space Mountain.  If you took the shortcut from Main Street through Tomorrowland Terrace without going all the way to the castle, you could get there before most people.  We would get into the line at Space Mountain, hearts pounding from the run and from our discussion about all the people who had supposedly been decapitated on the ride, walk past the video of the astronaut saying “it was the closest thing to space flight I’ve experienced,” then enter the little spaceships and take a twisting, turning, jolting ride in the dark.  Then we’d run back to the front and do it again and again, until the line got too long and it was on to other things.

Those Disney World trips were great, but even then I was noticing the plasticity of much of the place.  The Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse came to embody for me that creeping cynicism – a big fake tree (300,000 plastic leaves!) with a fake treehouse with fake props from a fictional movie.  Plus over 100 stairs to climb, always behind some older northeastern tourists looking at their peeling, sunburned backs all the way up . . . and down. And the man always had on Bermuda shorts with dress shoes and black socks.

Grad Nite ButtonBut Grad Nite was a rite of passage. The park was open all night just for high school seniors.  Security was tight – you had to be bussed in by your school, guys had to wear ties and girls had to wear “modest” dresses, and everyone was searched on the way in.  But hanging at Disney at 3am listening to Kool and the Gang was indeed pretty kool.   So was a busload of seniors singing “We don’t need no education . . .” to all the teacher-chaperons on the bus when Pink Floyd came on the radio. I still have my official Grad Nite picture, with my goofy smile, wearing a maroon button-down shirt with a big ol’ clip on tie.  Oh, and a thick head of blow-dried dark hair.

It’s nice to remember that once I did have hair . . .

As a young adult, I still visited the Mouse with friends who came home with me from college, or when I’d visit home after I moved away.  But the magic of the Magic Kingdom was fading, and my suspicions about capitalism were confirmed by the gift shops you were dumped into at the conclusion of every ride.  And the constant entreaties to have your picture taken by a smiling “cast member” so you could buy it later.  And the rule that you couldn’t bring in your own food and drink so they could charge outrageous prices for mass produced food.  Visits to Disney in those days were sparse.  I looked down my nose at co-workers and friends who spent vacations there.

Then I had kids of my own.  With family still in Florida, we have been able to visit Disney over the years.  I have watched my kids grow from denizens of Fantasyland into thrill-seeking teens following their father’s footsteps onto Space Mountain and beyond.  Their joy has warmed my heart even as the Mouse has emptied my wallet.  I have been grateful for all the memories. But there are those other memories . . .

There are the lines, the heat, especially the 4th of July that got so crowded they stopped letting people in.  The effect of the lines and the heat on small children – and their parents – was often not pretty; the worst thing I ever heard a parent say to a child was in the now defunct Mickey Mouse House.  As we waited in line on a sweltering summer late-afternoon, a mom screamed at her exhausted, fidgety, whiny, overstimulated toddler: “Jessica, if you don’ t stop I’m going to bury you alive!”

Right in Mickey’s front yard, I guess.  I’m sure that was out of character; it was only something she would say at the end of a day at “The Happiest Place on Earth.”

And I’ve heard some of the horror stories from those who have been “Cast Members” (never “employees”) at Disney World. There are books about their less than magical experiences. Once, I was giving more money to the mouse at an EPCOT gift shop when the cashier yawned.  She covered it up quick.  “Don’t tell anybody.  They’ll fire us if they catch us yawning in front of a guest.” (Always “guests,” never “customers.”) The Mouse can be a pretty exacting employer.

But . . . as my own children have required less supervision I’ve been able to appreciate something else about Disney World – the incredible logistics of the place.  More than 48.5 million  folks visited the big four Disney Parks (Magic Kingdom, EPCOT, Animal Kingdom, Hollywood Studios) last year.  To move all those people around, to keep the place clean and welcoming, to staff parks that open early and don’t close until after midnight some nights has to take monumental planning and management.

Is it all to make money?  Yes.  But it is making money by selling the promise of happiness.

And maybe, now that I’m 51 and know there’s lots of unhappiness in the world, I can write that line without too much irony of my own.  I can start to believe that offering happiness is really not such a bad thing.

I just spent three days at Disney World.  My 16-year old daughter has been sick with a chronic illness for over a year, and I promised her I would take her anywhere in the US (lower 48) when she had a remission.  I was hoping for the California Redwoods or some other place we hadn’t seen . . . she picked Disney World.

We had a blast.  I gave in totally to the Mouse.  “Disney’s Magical Express” picked us up at the airport and took us to our Disney hotel.  Even the “bargain” property we stayed at met our needs.  It was easy to get around the Disney property on the fleet of buses that come every 20 minutes bound for all of the parks, Downtown Disney, and other places to have fun and spend money.

I recaptured some of my youth, riding Space Mountain again.  It was the first time I’d rode it with my daughter – we bought the picture.  We visited three of the four parks (all but EPCOT) and were exhausted at the end of the three days.  But we (at least I, I hope she) will remember this trip for a long, long time.  Like I said, she’s 16 – how many more trips will she want to take with her dad?

Dumbo DisneyworldThe highlight was late on the second night.  We were in the Magic Kingdom.  The Electrical Parade was marching down Main Street, followed by another show.  That, combined with most of the young children having gone back to their hotels combined to make Fantasyland a virtual ghost town.  We rode all the “kiddy” rides together – Winnie the Pooh, Peter Pan, Flying Dumbo, and even that happiest ride at the Happiest Place on Earth that I had once sworn never to endure again . . . It’s a Small World.

It was awesome!  We were, yes, happy.  Together.

Thank you Mouse.

I still struggle with some of the more craven elements of the Disney empire.  I still cringe at some of the artifice.  But . . . the parks were full each day, full of people not just from all over the US but from around the world.  Huge groups of Brazilian and Argentinian youth were everywhere while we were there, chanting and clapping and showing their national pride.  Even without those groups, it seemed a large percentage of the “guests” spoke Spanish as their first language.  But there was no tension, no fretting about borders and language differences or race.  Just lots of folks engaged in being, well, happy.  Together.

Sure it’s temporary.  But so are most things. (Here I’m resisting the urge to get theological because that’s not what this post is about, but you can probably guess where I could go.)

So I have made my peace with the Mouse.  Like everything else in the big world, Disney World is far from perfect.  But that’s okay.

I don’t know if it’s the Happiest Place on Earth, but it doesn’t have to be.  It gave me the opportunity to feel, even for just a few hours, like the happiest dad on earth.

Posted in Arts and Culture, Parenting, Travel | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

Too Smart for God – The Bumper Sticker Version

Posted on July 5, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

Your Message HereIt’s always seemed kind of presumptuous to tell folks I’m working on a book.  I’ve gotten a little more comfortable with it lately  Partly that’s because I’ve felt more entitled  since I’ve started needing three digits to write the page numbers; partly I just need to let folks know I’m doing something besides taking naps on my Sabbatical. (Karen has posted two pictures on Facebook of me napping.)

A couple of evenings ago, I told someone I had  just met I was working on a book called Too Smart for God.  He said that sounded interesting and asked me what it was about.  I started to tell him but he stopped me and asked, “What’s it about in one sentence?  Something simple and short enough you could put it on a bumper sticker.”

That was one of the most helpful things anyone could have said to me.  With the word count growing by the 10,000’s, I can feel this thing becoming unwieldy.  I can theoretically use stuff from any part of my life for this memoir about how I rejected God and Jesus and the church, and about how God brought me back.  That’s 51 years.  How do I pick and choose?  How do I keep it semi-coherent?

So I bought into the bumper sticker idea.  It seemed like a helpful exercise.  Here’s what I came up with:

 I had all the answers, but I didn’t know The Answer

I admit, it’s not something you’d want to slap on the bumper of your Mercedes (or your Hyundai), but it does hold things together pretty well for me.

So if you want to know what my book, Too Smart for God, is about, there it is.  In one sentence.

We’ll see if  it helps keep me on track as I write a bunch more sentences.

 —

The bumper sticker idea is potentially helpful not just for books.  What would be your “bumper sticker” for all or part of your life story, or your most important life lesson?

You can also use the comments to tell me what you think of my “bumper sticker,” and to suggest a better one if you’d like.

Posted in Christianity, Too Smart for God, Writing | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

Marriage Needs to Be Protected . . . From People Like Me

Posted on July 2, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

wedding ringsHey fellow Christians, where’s the outcry?  Yesterday a law took effect – in southern-state Virginia, of all places – that is a threat to the very idea of marriage.  And it’s not about same-sex marriage.  As of July 1, people of the opposite sex in Virginia don’t have to be married to live together legally!

That only leaves two states where you are a criminal if you shack up with your girlfriend or boyfriend.  (No, Texas is not one of them.  Yes, I was surprised, too.  They are Mississippi and Michigan.)

So where are the protests?  The online petitions?  The prayer vigils?  After all, if we’re serious about defending “God’s plan for marriage” where sex only is permissible between two married (opposite sex) folks, then POSSLQs (People of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters) are a much bigger abomination than same-sex marriage.

At the time of the 2010 census, there were about 646,000 households with same-sex couples in the United States.

According to the same census, there were 7.5 MILLION opposite sex couples living together.  And that’s before Virginia went and gave its legislative approval to the arrangement.

So why isn’t there ten or eleven times the outrage from Christians about POSSLQs compared to the sturm und drang over same sex marriage?

For any satirically challenged folks – I am NOT making an argument that anyone should protest Virginia’s new law.  I’m just wondering why our (Christian) disapproving rebuke for those considered sexual sinners is reserved mostly, at least most vocally, for same-sex couples.

Lots of loud Christians publicly decry same-sex coupling in part because of Bible verses that say sex is only permissible in marriage, and yet they wink at their young people who choose to shack up.  Could it be that the difference is not theological at all; perhaps it is what George Takei calls the “ick factor.”  Why else would Christians be so upset about gay Tom and Jerry, but not about unmarried Tom and Geri living together?

Here’s a test.  If you are a Christian who believes same-sex sex is a sin, and if you’re “not afraid to stand up for God” on your Facebook page and to sign internet petitions, when is the last time you “stood up for God” by signing a petition to make cohabitation illegal, or by posting something about those young folks in your church who are shacking up?  Or better yet, the last time you’ve said anything to them or suggested to the pastor that it might be better to deny them communion? 

Never?  That’s kind of what I thought.  And I agree that you shouldn’t.  But why is it different when it comes to same-sex marriage?  

Might that be because those unmarried men and women who are living together are more like . . . us?  In fact, they ARE us.  More than half of women aged 19-44 have lived with an unmarried partner.  I bet a lot of those women are in the pews on Sundays.  A lot more of them than LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender) folks; it’s always easier to preach against people who aren’t there.

Back in the day, I lived with two women to whom I wasn’t married.  Not at the same time.  (Well once I did live with two other women at the same time for a few months but that was more of a “Three’s Company” platonic arrangement.)  When I tell people I was half a POSSLQ twice, I always defensively qualify it by saying, “Before I was a Christian . . .”  But that really doesn’t matter, does it?

I went on to marry one of those women . . . and after a few years we divorced.   So you see why I say I am more of a threat to marriage than those LGBT folks who want to get married that we shout at and about?

Marriage needs to be protected from divorce much more than it does from same-sex nuptials.  Again, just look at the numbers.  Although the “half of all marriages end in divorce” canard is an exaggerated misreading of statistics, the actual divorce rate is still high – between 30 and 40%.  With more than 2 MILLION marriages in the US each year, that is LOTS of divorces.  And while theologians disagree about the handful of Biblical references to homosexuality, it’s hard to read “God hates divorce” as anything other than a condemnation of ending marriage before “death do us part.”  Oh yeah, and Jesus did say something about “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

And certainly, the legal option of divorce contributes to a climate where marriage is not taken seriously.  I admit, when I got married the first time, in the back of my mind was an escape-clause: “If this doesn’t work out, there’s always divorce.”  I’ve often said that my sin wasn’t so much the divorce as it was not taking marriage itself seriously enough.  Which of course was precipitated by the easy availability of divorce.

So why aren’t we Christians beating down our legislators’ doors, demanding a repeal of no-fault divorce laws?

Is it maybe because those divorced folks are us . . . and people like us?

People like us are also getting remarried (to other people) after they divorce.  In 2004, almost one in three marriages involved at least one previously divorced person.  Jesus was pretty clear about remarriage after divorce.  Listen: “I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another woman commits adultery.”  Which brings me to the final reason I am a threat to marriage –  I married again after I was divorced.  And that – the marriage, not the divorce – took place after I became a Christian.

So why was I allowed to do that, something so clearly anti-Biblical, so anti-God’s-plan –for marriage? 

Because of grace.  Because being a follower of Jesus means I can be and have been forgiven of my POSSLQ past, my divorce . . . and my remarriage.  With the approval of the majority of Christian denominations (and even the Catholic church with an annulment), a subsequent marriage can be blessed by the very church that claims to be obedient to the Bible and to Jesus.

Because of grace.  God’s undeserved gift of forgiveness and salvation.

Don’t get me wrong, I take marriage very seriously.  This time I made a promise to God as well as to my wife that I intend to keep by God’s grace.   As a pastor, the couples I marry know what God’s expectation is for marriage – “til death do us part.” Some won’t make it there, but for that there is grace.

Christian marriage is the church’s role and responsibility, not the government’s.  In the same way I don’t believe the government needs to “protect marriage” by re-instituting cohabitation laws or making divorce more difficult, I have no problem with the benefits of marriage being made available to all couples, whether hetero- or same-sex.  If our strongest argument against same-sex marriage is that we need to “defend marriage,” then I believe that is the church’s job, not the government’s. 

I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel my marriage is any more vulnerable because the Supreme Court overturned “The Defense of Marriage Act” last week.  That decision will have absolutely no impact on my marriage whatsoever.

If we Christians continue to vocally oppose only same-sex marriage and remain silent about cohabitation and divorce, then our hypocrisy – our pick and choose which sins to be outraged about mentality – will only damage our witness.  Because when we single out same-sex marriage and ignore the real threats to the God-ordained institution, what other conclusion can our LGBT brothers and sisters (and those who love them) come to than that we’re not as concerned about marriage as much as we hate them.  I know that’s not where most Christians who oppose same-sex marriage are coming from, but we need to walk in the shoes of those on the “other side,” those whose lives are personally affected, and see how we are perceived.

And not just by LGBT folks.  I’ve read that young people outside the church have two main impressions of Christians – first that they are judgmental, and second that they hate gay people.  I don’t think that’s what Jesus meant when he said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Our obsession with same-sex marriage is getting in the way of our proclamation of the Gospel.

In Monday’s (July 1) Washington Post, there was a feature about a wedding in Alabama.  Folks who attended that wedding of a man and woman were vocal in their opposition to same-sex marriage.  Listen to what the groom had to say: “People think that I don’t want people to be together because they’re homosexuals, and that’s not it . . . People have a right to be together – that’s fine.  I just believe marriage is religious, and I want to keep my religious things sacred.  I don’t know if that’s mean or not, but I don’t want my religious beliefs to be diluted – not by heterosexuals or homosexuals.  I don’t know, is that controversial?”

I would answer that young man by saying “Yes and yes.”  Yes what he says is controversial, and yes it is mean to deny what you are celebrating to others; at least I would think it must be perceived as mean by those who yearn to get married as you are but cannot (and who yearn for the 1138 Federal government benefits married couples receive that you now get). 

Then I would ask him, “How would the legalization of same-sex marriage change anything about your wedding day, or your marriage?  How would your marriage, God-ordained and God-blessed, be ‘diluted?’”

What dilutes our marriages is our not taking them seriously.

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”   What a witness it would be if we did a better job of living that love not just generally in congregations but alive in our marriages; and by using our resources, both spiritual and material, to support and strengthen marriages, whatever they look like in our particular communities of faith.  Maybe then when folks outside the church think of Christians – and Jesus – they’ll think  of acceptance rather than judgment, of love rather than laws.

Yes, God loves LGBT folks.  God loved LGBT folks all the way to the cross.

And, yes, God loves even POSSLQ and divorced folks.  And thank God, God loves even threats to marriage like me. 

Posted in Christian Living, Christianity, Church, Homosexuality | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

Jesus Loves the Little Children (Who Can Roll Their R’s)

Posted on June 26, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

(This summer my church has graciously granted me a sabbatical to finish my book, Too Smart for God.  As I write, I’ll be posting some excerpts here for your enjoyment and for your feedback before I submit it to the inevitable rejection process.  Here’s an excerpt from Chapter Two, about growing up in Richmond, Virginia until I was 12 (1974). This is specifically about the church where we worshiped during that time.)

Choir PracticeDuring elementary school I was in the Cherub Choir, the coolest part of which were the white robes we wore on the rare occasions when they let us sing in church.  If you pulled the collar up over your head, those robes made you into a mighty fine ghost!  The Choir Director,  a tightly wound woman who was more suited to working with professional choristers than snotty elementary school singers, somehow failed to appreciate the cool factor and demanded that we “wear those robes correctly or you won’t wear one at all.”

Christmas service my third grade year was going to be exciting because the Cherub Choir was going to put on those robes and sing TWO songs!  One was “Silent Night;” all I remember about that one is the Choir Director’s apoplexy over our making the “peace” in the first “Sleep in heavenly peace” a big slur of notes rather than making a smooth transition between the syllables.  She wanted “Pee-eece”  We kept giving her “peeeeeeeece”  with the “eee’s” climbing, climbing, climbing, ever higher.

But the biggest burr under the director’s piano bench was the “Pa rum pum pum pum”s in “Little Drummer Boy.”  She wanted us to “roll those r’s” each time we said “rum.”  “Pa rrrrrum pum pum pum” is the effect she wanted.  I don’t remember her name, but I remember her rolling her r’s to demonstrate over and over as if our eternal salvation – and hers – depended on it.

But I was lost.  You see, if I had been born in Mexico or some other Spanish-speaking country, I would have been thrown into speech therapy.  Because it is impossible for me to roll my r’s.  I’ve tried . . . Lord knows I’ve tried and never harder than in the Cherub Choir in third grade.  But my tongue just would not cooperate.

One afternoon at rehearsal as Christmas drew near the Choir Director winced with each “Par rum pum pum pum.”  I thought I could just blend in, but her trained ear was having none of it.  “Who is not rolling their r’s?  I’ll have each of you do it solo.  Speak up now.”

What could I do.  I raised my chubby hand, the shame of the Cherub Choir.

“Well, you just mouth the words to this one, David.”

“All of them, or just the par rum pum pum pums?”

She winced again at my flat “rum.”  “All of them.  The entire song. It won’t do for you to be jumping in and out.”

So on Christmas I stood there with the other kids in my white robe facing the congregation, doing my best not to slur the notes on “Silent Night,” then being Milli or Vanilli (of course this was 1971, long before “Girl You Know It’s True [That We Can’t Sing]”) on “The Little Drummer Boy.”  It’s crazy, but as I write this I can still experience that “everybody’s looking at me, the kid who can’t roll an r” feeling.  I don’t need to look into a mirror to see that my cheeks are turning crimson.   I was letting down the Choir Director, the pastors, and probably God himself.

Nixon Campaign Postcard - PianoAll those folks were upset again by music a year later, but not by my singing.  My fourth grade Sunday School teacher – although an older, grey-haired woman – was a radical, at least for that place and time.  It was 1972, the year Nixon trounced McGovern.  I remember going to vote with my dad that year and getting a postcard of Richard Nixon and his family having a laugh around the piano.  What a great family. What a great man!  Who could ever vote for anyone else?

But there were whispers around the church.  “Did you hear about Mrs. Thomas?  She voted for McGovern!”

“Nooo!”

And then there was the song Mrs. Thomas wanted her class to sing in church.  “Everything is Beautiful,” by Ray Stevens.  We worked hard on it, and we loved it, especially the part about Jesus loving the little children.  Us!   I certainly was a fan – there were no r’s to roll!  But, there was that stuff in the song about not judging people for the length of their hair or the clothes that they wore.  That was obviously about hippies.  And especially troubling was which children the song said Jesus loved – “red and yellow, black and white” ones.

Remember, this was a place and a time where mixing of the races was just not done . . . it was the year I’d stayed home from school for a day along with all my friends as part of some kind of boycott to protest the potential integration of Richmond schools.  (In my parents’ defense, they weren’t very committed to the boycott.  My sister and I were only allowed to stay home after much cajoling of my mom – not because we were hardcore segregationists but because it was almost as good as a snow day – and after she called around to find out “What everybody else is doing.”)

So mixing all those kinds of children even in a song was iffy, especially led by a McGovernite which was the next thing to being a Communist.  I had no idea what all the fuss was about, but what I got out of it was an understanding that Jesus did indeed love all the little children, but separately.  Just like in our neighborhoods and in our schools . . . and in our churches.

But . .  . and this is why I’m not even sure I remember Mrs. Thomas’ name correctly but I am sure she is someone who has inspired me since I came back to the church . . . we ended up singing the song.  In church.

You go Mrs. Thomas.  Or whatever your name is.

Posted in Christianity, Church | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

How (not) To Sabbatical

Posted on June 20, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

sabbatical postitDay four of my Sabbatical, and the change in routine has already caused me to screw up bigtime.  I was supposed to meet with the Academic Dean at my daughter’s school this morning at 10; I remembered that at 11:30.  Sometimes you just have to suck it up and apologize – I left a message that said, “I wish I had an excuse but I don’t. Can we meet later?”  As I write this I’m still waiting to hear back.

So I’m learning to Sabbatical.  I’m adjusting to what will be eight weeks of separation from the church, eight weeks to recharge and rest (“Sabbatical” comes from “Sabbath” which means “rest.”)

My primary task during these eight weeks will be to finish the book I’ve been  sporadically working on for a while, from which I’ve posted a few excerpts here (and will hopefully be posting more as the writing progresses over the next few weeks).  Too Smart for God is about how I grew up in the church, drifted away to become an atheist/agnostic (unChristian), got brought back to the church and to faith, and finally became the Unexpected Pastor that I am today.

I’ve also got a stack of reading to catch up on, mostly Theological Journals and books that have accumulated in my “I’ll get to that someday” pile.  Most importantly, I’ll be getting reacquainted with my family, including taking a short trip with each of my children (Disney World with my daughter, Major League Baseball in Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and Detroit with my son). Just being home in the evenings and on weekends will be a good change for the whole family (I hope!).  We’ll also be visiting eight different churches for worship where I’m hoping to get some new ideas and to enjoy being in the congregation (holding hands with my wife) for a change.

Being a pastor is certainly not the hardest job in the world, and I love what I have been called to do.  But I am thankful that my church agrees with studies that have shown Sabbaticals can be helpful in keeping pastors not just in ministry but also in specific calls longer.  They are also good for pastors’ physical and mental health.  I’m pretty healthy and relatively sane, and I’d like to keep it that way.  I know, though, that pastors have a higher rate than the general population of things like depression and heart attacks.

That can be hard to understand – what’s so hard about showing up and leading worship on Sundays?  I often joke that I became a pastor because I only wanted to work one day a week.  Actually the opposite is true . . . pastors don’t work one day a week, most of us only have one day a week off (mine’s Monday).  Because we’re on call 24/7 for emergencies,  even that one day can’t be counted on.  The six days we do work can be looong, sometimes starting with praying with someone in the hospital before their 7am surgery, and ending after Bible Study or a meeting at 8:30 or 9 at night.  Visitation, counseling, teaching, and administration are also part of most days.  Researching, writing, rewriting, and rehearsing at least one sermon each week (more if there are weddings and funerals) takes multiple hours as well.  Someone asked me last week how many hours I work a week; I answered, “I really don’t want to know.”

I’m not complaining; I am blessed to be in a vocation where I know I am in the right place doing what I was meant to do.  But I do appreciate the opportunity the Sabbatical provides to get in touch with some other areas of my life before diving back into ministry.  I especially am thankful to be able to make up some of the time my ministry takes from my family.  Being a pastor’s wife or a pastor’s kid (PK) can be tough.

These eight weeks will be a work in progress.  I have some plans, and some goals for my writing.  I’m going to try to stick to a routine of getting up early for devotions, breakfast, and the newspaper (theologian Karl Barth said a modern pastor should preach with the Bible in one hand and the paper in the other), and be at my desk to write by 9 each day.  But I’m going to be flexible and open to the leading of the Spirit.

And I’ll try to do a better job of keeping up with appointments, like the one I missed this morning.  I’m still waiting for that call-back; I hope he’ll understand that I’m learning how to Sabbatical.

(In additions to excerpts from the book, I’ll be posting some updates on the Sabbatical over the next few weeks as well.)

Posted in Christianity, Church, Pastors | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Auditioning for Heaven (and a gratuitous Wayne’s World reference)

Posted on June 4, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

GSN logo I started yesterday’s sermon by sharing with the congregation my latest quest to be a game show contestant.  Two weeks ago I went down to DC and auditioned for a new trivia-based  show.   I can’t tell you the name of the show or any of the details of the audition because we all signed non-disclosure agreements that had a 5 MILLION dollar penalty for disclosing anything.

If you really want to know, you can PayPal me the money and we’ll talk.

Anyway, I can tell you that I thought I had a GREAT audition (the kiss of death!).  I learned a lot from auditioning for Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and Jeopardy.  And not just from the successful attempts, but also from the failures that preceded them – I auditioned four times before I got onto Millionaire, and twice before I got the invitation from Jeopardy.

At the latest audition, I did all the things you’re supposed to do – I smiled, had great energy, followed directions, and the other stuff I recommend in “Pastor Dave’s Dozen Tips for a Successful Game Show Audition.”

So after the audition was over the anticipating  started. I knew there wasn’t much time until the show would be taping, and that there would be a limited number of episodes, at least at first.  Two weeks later a Facebook friend posted that he had gotten a call to go to LA and tape . . . so I started making extra sure I had my cellphone charged and ready at all times.

But my phone never rang.  I didn’t get picked.

When I was an unChristian, I thought Christians believed that life was like an audition for eternity.  You follow God’s Ten Rules for a Successful Heaven Audition, and God picks you for forgiveness and salvation, and maybe even chooses you to have your prayers answered.

Based on what I hear and read, some Christians seem to believe it works like that.

But that’s religion.  Religion is following rules so that you will (might) earn God’s favor.

The best news ever is that Jesus came to replace religion with relationship.  It’s not about what you do (or don’t) do . . . it’s about Who you know.

Life is not an audition for heaven.

For whatever reason, the producers of that new game show didn’t think I was worthy of being a contestant (at least not yet!).

I disagree, but I’m definitely not worthy for eternity with God.  Thank God it’s not my worthiness I’m counting on . . . it’s the perfect worthiness – righteousness – of Jesus Christ.

Maybe you feel unworthy at times, or a lot of the time.  Maybe because of some things you’ve done, or haven’t done, or are still doing.  Maybe you can’t seem to get out of your own way.  You might wonder how anybody can possibly find you worthy – especially if they knew the real you.  You might have trouble believing anybody could really love you, especially a perfect, all-knowing God.

Well, Jesus came to love unworthy folks like us.  It’s a love you don’t have to earn.  It’s love that is totally unconditional.  Jesus loved you all the way to the Cross – he didn’t wait for you or me to get our acts cleaned up first.

Like Wayne and Garth, “We’re not worthy.”  We can’t be.  And that’s actually Good News. We never have to wonder if we’re good enough or if we’ve done enough.  It’s all been done for us.  Jesus meant it when he said, as he was dying, “It is FINISHED.”

Posted in Christian Living, Christianity, Game Shows | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

RUSSIAN SCIENTISTS HAVE DRILLED INTO HELL! (AND FOUND PROCTER AND GAMBLE’S LOGO?)

Posted on May 28, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

P&G_logoOutrageous news is broadcast by outraged Christians via e-mail, Facebook, Twitter, and all manner of other social media pathways.  It’s their duty to get the word out, by golly, and thank God for the technology that lets it spread far and wide so quickly.  I mean, shouldn’t the world know about . . .

FLORIDA COURT SETS ATHEIST HOLY DAY

FCC PETITION TO BAN RELIGIOUS TELEVISION PROGRAMMING

CBS CANCELED TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL BECAUSE OF REFERENCES TO GOD

NASA SCIENTISTS HAVE DISCOVERED EVIDENCE FOR JOSHUA’S “MISSING DAY”

SOVIET SCIENTISTS DRILLED INTO HELL

PROCTER AND GAMBLE’S LOGO IS SATANIC

“THE BEAST” IS A SUPERCOMPUTER IN BELGIUM

There’s only one small problem . . . none of those “news items” are true.  Some are just plain fabrications, like the Russians drilling into hell, and others are twisted half-truths.  Well, “half” may be giving too much credit.

Take the Petition to End Religious Broadcasting.  Even though it refers to a petition to the FCC (which would not have ended religious broadcasting) that was proposed in 1974 and rejected in 1975, that zombie-like Rumor That Will Not Die still resurfaces.  Often linked to it is the information that Madelyn Murray O’Hair, the famous Atheist who supposedly started the petition (she didn’t) also was responsible for getting “Touched By An Angel” taken off the air.  But . . . “Touched By An Angel” wasn’t cancelled until 2003 . . . eight years after O’Hair died.

Those pesky Atheists are such a bother from beyond the grave.

So what’s the big deal?  What harm is there in Christians sending and forwarding an endless stream of these Urban Legends?  Might there even be some good in getting folks fired up about defending their faith?  What’s the harm?

The undisputable and dangerous harm is to our witness and to the Gospel itself.  We Christians claim to be people who have the TRUTH.  We say that we are followers of Jesus Christ, the Way, the TRUTH, and the life.

If we send around stuff that is untrue, then we damage our witness.  Once someone who is not a believer finds out we’re sending them something made up purporting to be “truth,” then why should they believe what we have to say about Jesus?  This is especially true when we send out something that supposedly “proves” part of the Bible (NASA Finds Evidence for Joshua’s Missing Day!).  

Nonbelievers don’t need “proof.”  For one thing, there is no “proof” that God exists. That’s why we need faith.  What we are called to show unChristians is Jesus Christ.  In us.  Very rarely, if ever, is anyone ever argued into faith.  People are LOVED into faith.

Our most effective witness is showing Christ’s love in what we say, do, and how we treat other people.

Atheists and agnostics think Christians are gullible people who have fallen for fairy tales or legends.  That’s certainly what I thought about Christians when I was an unChristian.   Promoting stuff like this, in their minds, just confirms the wackiness of Christianity.

Once when I responded to a Christian Urban Legend E-mail with an argument of this sort, the forwarder asked, “Well, maybe an atheist would at least go to the Bible to check this stuff out.”

Riiiiight.

No non-believer would go to the Bible and look up verses based on e-mails such as these.  They don’t believe the Bible is true – why look there?  As soon as they see that the history or the science is messed up, that’s where they are going to stop.  Stuff like this keeps non-believers OUT of the Bible.  It did me when I was an unChristian and I know from talking to other non-believers – especially young people – that its the same for them.

That’s why I always respond when someone e-mails me one of these Urban Legends.  It’s why I usually can’t help myself when a Facebook Friend posts one of them that shows up on my feed.

Look, some of the stories are kind of fun.  I even used one in a sermon once (about an aircraft carrier telling a lighthouse to get out of its way).  But I prefaced the illustration by saying it was like a parable – not a true story, but a fiction with a moral.

In the post-modern world in which we live, it is hard enough for Christianity to get taken seriously in the marketplace of ideas.  Let’s not make it harder by promulgating falsehoods as truth, especially when the same technology that makes it so easy to spread Urban Legends makes it so easy to check them out.

SOME FACT-CHECKING SITES THAT I USE

Snopes.com – I start here; the best all-around information and fun to read many of the non-Christian Urban Legends.

about.com Urban Legends – I usually verify what I find on Snopes with this site before responding or posting.

TruthorFiction.com – I don’t find this one as easy to use as the other two.  It was founded by a Christian broadcaster.

FINALLY

Please, please, please check these sites before you post about a “Missing Child.”  Many of the alerts that are circulated are about children who were never missing or have been found, and take valuable time and credibility away from reports about actual missing children missing presently.  Thanks!

Posted in Christian Living, Christianity | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Sunday Morning God TV . . . or Not

Posted on May 17, 2013 by pastordavesimpson

Television_remote_controlA couple of weeks ago I had a rare Sunday morning free (I was off and we worshiped earlier in the weekend).  In my hotel room, I sampled the many Christian television options available on the local cable system.

Death and Damnation and Hell, Oh My!

What I found was lots of religion, but very little Jesus.  There were plenty of pastors shouting (literally) about sin and spewing warnings about damnation.  If you were a backslider, a liberal, a homosexual, or a “whoremonger,” (that’s not a word you hear every day) you were on your way to hell.  I would guess those pastors picked those particular things about which to disgorge condemnation because they are things that they, or their congregations, don’t struggle with very much.

Or here’s another possibility.  Maybe the opposite is true – might some preachers scream about things they secretly and desperately struggle against because those things scare them so much they must yell about them?  If they are strident enough in their opposition, then no one will suspect their struggle.  I’m not saying that’s necessarily the case, but it is something to consider . . .

Anyway, you can really fire folks up by demonizing “those people” – sort of like the “religious” guy at the Temple Jesus talked about who thanked God he wasn’t like those other “sinners.”

You might remember that Jesus didn’t think a lot of him and his self-righteousness.

But I’m sure stuff like that really gets the pledges coming in to the toll-free numbers that inevitably crawled across the bottom of the screen.

Happy Happy, Joy Joy (also Oh My!)

There was, however, one preacher I found that morning who was different.  One preacher who didn’t talk about sin at all, who didn’t yell or point his finger into the camera.  He just smiled.  A lot.

What that happy preacher told me through the hotel television was that God wants me to be happy.  If I just have enough faith, and if I talk to God enough, God will do things to make me happy.  But,  if my faith waivers or if I neglect time in prayer, there will be consequences. 

I may not get a good parking place when I go shopping, or I may forget my workout shoes when I go to the gym.  (I feel a need to state I’m not making this up.) 

But if I get it right, God will get me that close parking place and I’ll get to the gym and find that I HAVE MY SHOES!

Hallelujah!

That’s a God a can get behind!

Unfortunately, it’s not the God I meet in the Bible. 

It’s Not God Who’s Letting You Down, It’s Your Theology

Folks in my church are probably tired of hearing me say this, but here it is: Jesus did not die on the Cross to make me comfortable.

The “point” of following Jesus Christ is not to live faithfully in order to get God to do stuff for us and to protect us from bad stuff.  We are called to be faithful because of what God has already done for us. 

On the cross.  Not at the mall.

God-As-Magical-Genie theology is just as disturbing as the Theology of Other-Condemnation.  When God doesn’t “deliver,” we’re either disappointed with God or we beat ourselves up for not believing enough and doing it “right.”

Back when I was an intern pastor, a woman I’d never seen before stopped by the church office. She was crying and wanted to talk to someone.   When I sat down with her, she told me how terrible her last year had been – a tale of illness and death (both human and pets), relationship strife and financial struggle.  Then she told me she had been to her own pastor.  This was his response:

“Obviously you’re not praying enough.”

Harsh, isn’t it.  But that’s the flip-side to the “God wants you to be happy” brand of theology.  God wants to bless you (in material ways) it says; all you’ve got to do is want it enough.

So, those Christians who struggle with illness and finances must not want it enough.  Those Christians in the Third World who live on less than a dollar a day and watch their children die from lack of food and clean water, they must not want it enough.  Those Christians who live in places where they are thrown into jail and tortured and even killed for their faith, they must not want it enough.

And Jesus’ disciples, almost all of whom were reportedly killed for sharing the Gospel, they must not have wanted it enough.  Paul was definitely doing something wrong as he undertook his great mission to the Gentiles, as he had health problems that wouldn’t go away, kept getting beaten and thrown into jail, and was finally executed.

God does not promise us “our best life now.”  God promises us our best life in eternity, while for now we will endure trials and tragedies.  What God promises us is never to leave us alone, to experience our struggles right along with us, and to love us no matter what.

What God promises us is grace, God’s undeserved love, forgiveness, and salvation.  Grace depends not on our own faith, but on God’s perfect faithfulness.

I’m disappointed that I couldn’t find any of that on the hotel TV on that Sunday morning.  (In fairness, there may be some grace-emphasizing theology on TV, but there is certainly a preponderance of other stuff.)

But what is tragic is that unChristians who may be flipping through the channels on Sunday mornings are likely to get either condemnation or genie-theology.  And speaking as someone who made that trip through the channels on occasional Sunday mornings when I was an unChristian myself, it’s tragic because either of those pictures of God are very easy to reject.

Posted in Christian Living, Christianity, Pastors | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments