The Last Battle

“If you really trust God, one day he’ll [sic] show you that my problematic theology is right.”

If you’ve followed this blog for any amount of time, you probably have seen pieces of my deconstruction journey.

I’ve wrestled with whether God will save everyone, whether Jesus’ death on the cross was to appease an angry God, how God feels about LGTBQ people (love), how to read the Bible, the nature of God, God’s love and God’s judgment, whether Jesus would be a Republican, creation and evolution, the rapture, pacifism, feminism, socialism, whether I believe in the resurrection

Until this past week I thought everything was shaken that could be shaken, but that’s a different story.

But in spite of it all, I still wrestled with a narrative that I picked up from talking to people who still hold many of the beliefs I had long since abandoned:

That if I really trusted God and was in relationship with God, eventually I would come to understand why the things I’ve come to believe are horrible are actually loving and holy and righteous and good.

Continue reading “The Last Battle”

Running Errands for the Devil

When I was 21, I got swept away by the love and goodness of God. I felt that God loved me and I was undone and swept into a kind of alive faith that was all about the love of God and that was super reckless because I was ready to do whatever God wanted.

There’s a scene in the Bible where Jesus has this huge moment where God says “You are my beloved son, and I’m so pleased with you” and then Jesus immediately gets hauled off to the desert to be tempted by the devil, and I feel like that’s pretty much what happened to me.

Two of the temptations went along the lines of, “If you are the son of God, do this random hard thing because I said so.”

Jesus quoted Deuteronomy and avoided running errands for the devil.

Me? Less so.

I read a book called Under Cover that said I was supposed to submit to any and all authority because God put authority over me, which (according to the CREEPY author) meant that even if my dad was abusive and I was literally 21, God put my dad in authority over me and I needed to move back in with him and obey him. (Yeah, YIKES.)

But since there were Bible verses that got stitched together to indicate that this was exactly what God wanted, God who loved me – that is, because I was God’s beloved son… I did it. (Non-spoiler: it was terrible).

And then I found that one verse where Jesus told the rich man to sell everything he had and give it to the poor and come, follow me.

I had some money saved up that I was thinking of using to put a down payment on a house, and I felt like God was telling me that I needed to give it all away. I felt it was not as important where I give it away as that I needed to not have it.

Thanks be to God, a friend pulled me back from that ledge.

I later used that money for my freshman year of college.


It was only much later that I came to realize that these things I was doing (or being tempted to do) “for God” weren’t actually things God wanted me to do.

They had nothing to do with loving my neighbor. There was no kindness in them for me. There was nothing good for the world in it. It was brought on by anxious navel-gazing.

There was no good reason for this other than some fancy philosophizing and randomly stitching verses together to build some kind of creepy cultish theology.

It just turned out to be harmful to me and useless for the world, at best, and harmful to me and the world, at worst.


Now to be extra-clear here, I don’t think it makes me a bad person to have fallen for that. It happened because of a sincere faith. Misguided, but sincere. It took me a long time to identify that as “running errands for the devil” rather than just “I’m being obedient to God.”

It’s been super transformative to identify it as busywork I got sent off on rather than what God wanted me to do, because I don’t have to worry anymore that God will send me off to do something like that, and the fact that I can identify it as such now makes me more likely to be able to identify similar tactics in the future.

Anyway, what errands have you run for the devil?*


*I don’t have strong opinions about the existence of a personal devil. Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t, but if there is I’ve always been inspired by this story about Smith Wigglesworth:

He claims to have awakened one night and seen the devil himself sitting in a rocking chair by his bed. He was alarmed until realized it was the devil. Then he said “Oh, it’s only you,” and went back to sleep.

The Maps Are Wrong:

Five Things You Need to Know to Guide Someone Else’s Deconstruction Journey. Step 1: Don’t.

1. Don’t.

Unless they explicitly ask you to.

That’s it. That’s the post. You’re welcome.


Okay, fine, yes, I actually have a lot more to say about this.

Every time I have encountered someone authoritatively saying, “this is how you SHOULD be deconstructing,” I just think to myself that this person doesn’t understand deconstruction. At all.

But first, let’s get this out of the way:

2. Jacques Derrida Has Nothing To Do With This.

JD is the guy who originally coined the term “deconstruction” however long ago he coined it, to mean… something, my academic friends know what,. But he’s dead and when people say they’re deconstructing, they don’t mean what he meant when he made up the word.

And they’re not wrong in using it that way. Dictionaries track usage, not some abstract meaning that God handed down to English speakers. People know what they mean.

From my research, David Hayward was the first person who used it to mean what people who say they are deconstructing their faith mean by it.

So if someone tells you they’re “deconstructing” and they’re not an academic who has ever read or even heard of Jacques D, knowing what he meant by it will probably not be helpful in you having a clue what they’re talking about and you should probably just yeet Mr. Derrida’s definition straight out of the discussion.

3. What People Mean by “Deconstruction”

It means different things to different people. Personally I like Greg Boyd’s illustration of the House of Cards, where all your core, most important beliefs are like a house of cards and if one falls, the whole thing collapses.

I’m also fond of my illustration of a snow globe: you start with a worldview where everything is connected, or a web of knowing, and how a certain professor of mine kept trying to crack my worldview and I kept patching the pieces together and trying to make it hold together until a classmate suggested I just… let it break and see what happens.

Deconstruction, for me, means calling your most core beliefs about reality into question. The existence and nature of God, heaven, hell, who goes where and why, whether arbitrary rules about morality have anything to do with faith in God, and what these pieces have to do with each other.

It’s the undoing of authority, the questioning of the most important things you believed to be true.

It’s a vast desert of lostness, an Escher painting, it’s the staircases in Harry Potter that change orientations and destinations at random.

The reason you can’t guide someone else’s deconstruction is that deconstruction by its very nature is a thing that can’t be guided by the old authorities.

Continue reading “The Maps Are Wrong:”

Should Joe Biden Get Communion?

I don’t think it’s right to jump to “yes” immediately. I think it’s right to land there eventually, but I have serious concerns about jumping directly to “yes.”

Content Warning: Literally all of the content warnings.
Racism, sexism, sexual assault, homophobia, transphobia, rape, murder, child abuse… I think the only thing that’s not in here is suicide. They will be mentioned but not discussed in detail.

I’ve been (not really) following this story about the US Council of Catholic Bishops plotting to get US President Joe Biden excommunicated because he doesn’t think abortion should be illegal.

I saw that it’s a thing the bishops are considering, and I’ve heard a lot of hubbub about it. Mostly I’ve seen this tweet from Rev. Daniel Brereton, who I follow on Twitter and greatly appreciate.

Also this one.

Before I go any further, I need to emphasize: I agree with him. I very much agree with him. Open communion is a hill I will die on.

However.

There are a few things about this tweet that make me uncomfortable.

Continue reading “Should Joe Biden Get Communion?”

The Cucumbers, the Melons, and the Leeks

Maybe the spiritual exile of former evangelicals and fundamentalists isn’t an exile at all. Maybe it’s an exodus… and Jesus is the Promised Land.

A couple weeks ago I was out for a run and listening to an episode of Make Me Smart. Kai Ryssdal and Molly Wood were talking about how Uber won the fight to not have to treat their drivers as employees (provide benefits, etc). It reminded me of this poster from Despair.com:

Image: (De-)Motivational Poster with a picture of the pyramids, captioned “ACHIEVEMENT: You can do anything you set your mind to when you have vision, determination, and an endless supply of expendable labor.”

Which got me thinking about how the Israelites were slaves in Egypt.

Which got me thinking about the exodus.

Which for some reason got me thinking about their complaints when they were wandering in the wilderness. They say in Numbers 11:5-6,

We remember the fish we used to eat in Egypt for nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic; but now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to look at.

Which made me think about my own spiritual journey and the things that I miss about when I was an evangelical.

My leeks and melons and cucumbers

There was an evening this past summer when I was driving to the beach with Ryan and tuned in to a Christian radio station only to hear a Republican Christian railing against Democrats in a way that indicated he had learned about Democrats only from Fox News, or something even more partisan, and had never met a Christian who voted Democrat. While I was watching Ryan play on the playground, I wrote in my journal, “It’s like a whole other religion.”

I didn’t know it would be this hard not having a progressive Christian radio station, where the songs weren’t randomly spiced with all manner of terrible theology and the talk show hosts didn’t believe people with my political affiliation were not only unChristian but acting in bad faith.

Another time, a Saturday morning, I was making pancakes and it took me back to my childhood when my mom used to make pancakes on Saturday mornings and we would listen to the latest episode of Adventures in Odyssey by Focus on the Family. Adventures in Odyssey (AiO) was one of the highlights of many of my childhood days – especially Saturdays, when the new episodes came out.

I listened to a few episodes as a deconstructed-fundamentalist adult and YEESH. Many were… pretty bad. Stereotyping atheists as immoral because they didn’t believe in God, for example. All the villains were so because they weren’t Christians. One of my former favorite episodes, “A Name Not A Number,” featured an arch-villain named Mustafah, with a terrible fake middle-eastern accent. Another villain, if I recall correctly, explicitly said that he could do whatever he wanted because God doesn’t exist and therefore morals are irrelevant. MWAHAHAHA.

All kinds of stuff that just… doesn’t feel safe or right anymore, even though I uncritically accepted it as a child.

I feel it. I keep feeling that sense of exile, of being away from something that was good, and not being able to go back.


Except that it wasn’t good. It was filled with all manner of stuff that was harmful and abusive and traumatic. It was legalism and always being afraid – afraid that my dad would come home, or Jesus would come back before I had really really meant the sinner’s prayer; it was belief in hellfire and damnation, it was smallness, it was always being in service to either fundamentalist or republican ideas.

In other words, it was Egypt.

But I do miss those cucumbers and melons and leeks – the days when I could hear the word “Christian” and safely assume it meant something good; when mainstream Christianity was something that didn’t think I was in the service of the devil.

If evangelicalism was Egypt, then this space, this great unknowing I’ve spent much of the last decade in, is not exile. It’s the wilderness.

Just as Israel gets the new law from God in the wilderness, we who have left fundamentalism have to figure out what it is to exist, how to be human, without being slaves to harmful religion and harmful religious beliefs and practices.

As I mentioned in my last post, I feel like I’ve been wandering in the wilderness for a very long time. I thought of that as I was running, but just in the moment I did, I felt hope.

That sense of despair I’ve had for so many years about being in exile suddenly shifted to a sense of being in the wilderness, freed from Egypt, and on my way to the promised land.

The promised land.

I felt hope that one day I will see the promised land. And it will be better than Egypt. Leeks and melons? How about milk and honey.


As sometimes happens, the sermon I was working on worked its way into my own spirituality.

I was planning my Advent sermon series, “Jesus in the Old Testament.”

The sermon for the coming week was Jesus in the books of history, and suddenly, right there on the road, listening to “Make Me Smart,” I realized that Jesus was leading me into the promised land.

A half-second later, I realized that

not only is Jesus leading me into the promised land,

Jesus IS the promised land.

THAT was a good and beautiful moment.

put away the gods

I’ve been living in this truth for the past few months and I wanted to share it with you.

I’ve lived for a long time with the haunting worry that I’m wrong about God. The fear that all the good things I have hoped and tentatively believed about God might not be true.

Probably ever since I first started believing them, maybe starting in 2007 but especially starting in 2010/11.

A year ago – it turns out, exactly a year ago today – I wrestled in an unpublished post with what it might look like to commit to it, to dive all the way in. To call Franklin Graham and Jerry Falwell Jr. heretics because their view of God is so radically different from mine.

I need assurances that the monster-God is never coming back, that this expression of the Christian faith, as I have come to know it, is the genuine, authentic, real-deal Christian faith… and not the bullsh*t I grew up with.

That God is love, and that’s at the center of everything.

That God is good, and that good and love are words whose meanings I understand well enough that, while they may mean more than what I understand them to mean, they don’t mean the opposite of what I understand them to mean.

The question, I suppose, is whether I need to call out these other expressions as heresies, distortions of the authentic Christian faith – even if they are heresies I have embraced. And I am starting to think that at least in my own heart, that answer may need to be yes.

I’ve been wandering in this wilderness for a long time now. Five years ago, I wrote a blog post called “The Wall I Built Against the Monster God,” and every so often I go back to trying to build the kind of connection I felt I had with God back when I was a borderline fundamentalist, and I always seem to start in the same place.

Every time, I rediscover that I have been along this road before. I read that post about encountering God in the chapel at Jumonville. I read poems I wrote that I called “Psalms for Doubters,” and journal entries, and I realize that I’ve been here before.

In some ways it feels like I’ve been wandering in circles in this wilderness.


About two months ago, I was preaching through the entire Bible on kind of a whirlwind tour. I got to the part after the Exodus, after Israel has entered the promised land, and I read these words:

Now therefore revere our God, and serve God in sincerity and in faithfulness; put away the gods that your ancestors served beyond the River and in Egypt, and serve the Lord.

Joshua 24:27

That is the verse before the famous “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

I felt like God was speaking to me, saying that all those versions of God that I had believed in once, even that fear that maybe I’m wrong and God turns out to be not better than I can imagine, but worse… those are gods I need to let go of. I need to put them away.

It’s funny how after 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, and even after entering the promised land, even after watching their parents die in that wilderness because they refused to trust in God, they still had these idols.

They still had these artifacts of what their parents believed in. Maybe they were making sacrifices to Yahweh but they were still also hedging their bets on Molech a little. “We’re going to only serve Yahweh, but I’m a little worried that the Egyptian sun god Ra might strike us down for not worshiping him instead.”

And Joshua got up on his soap box and said to them (and to me), “Quit hedging your bets. Go all in. It’s been 40 years. (In my case, 5+). Don’t you think it’s time you put those gods away?”

Put away the gods your ancestors served over the river and in Egypt.

Put away the gods your ancestors served.

Put away the gods.


The gods who were anti-gay. The gods who demanded a blood sacrifice. The gods who wouldn’t hesitate to crush my heart “for my own good.” The gods who were angry, who had no space for nuance; the gods who killed off baby Canaanites because their parents were evil.

Put away those gods.

The gods who were mean and cruel and hung you like a spider on a string over hellfire, who only gave a sh*t about you if you obeyed their bizarre rules. The gods who demanded that children obey their parents without question and threatened them with hellfire for disobedience, who demanded respect for abuse.

Put away those gods.

The gods I have been afraid of because I feared God might secretly be them, or turn into them.

Put away those gods.

The gods clamoring to replace the one true God, who is ahead, who is love and justice, who cares deeply for the poor and the alien, for the rights of the downtrodden.

Put away those gods.

Leave them on the other side of that river you crossed to get into Canaan.

Leave them in Egypt.

Amen.

Hallelujah.


So where does that leave people I disagree with, like Jerry Falwell Jr. and Franklin Graham and evangelicals who have decided Democrats are following the devil and the current Democratic presidential candidate might be the anti-Christ and Donald Trump is the second coming of Jesus?

Are they heretics?

Is it my job to say they are?

I don’t know.

And it turns out, I don’t need to.

The verse immediately after “put away the gods” is “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

I don’t have to call them heretics, or call them anything. (But I for sure can’t worship their god).

“The Lord,” as you may know, is an English translation of the word “Adonai,” Hebrew for “My Lord,” which represents the vowel markings under the Hebrew word “YHWH,” the tetragrammaton, Hashem, The Name of God which observant Jews may not pronounce.

The name means “I Am What/Who I Am,” or “I Will Be What I Will Be.”

The God who isn’t held down by people’s self-serving agendas.

The God who is love and goodness, the God who is for justice. Whose goodness is beyond human understanding, but not against it. The God who liberates.

The God who is like Jesus, dying for his enemies.

If Jerry Falwell Jr. and Franklin Graham and my evangelical friends want to worship the gods my ancestors served in Egypt and beyond the river, the ones who are vindictive and send gay people to hell, that’s up to them.

But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.


Okay, technically I can’t decide that for my house; they’re going to do what they’re going to do, but I can use my influence to encourage it.

Note 2: Apparently this thought has its roots in an idea I had two and a half years ago.

The City: A Short Story

The other night I got a picture in my head of a man, staring at a shining city in disgust.

There it stood, gleaming in its wickedness and immorality. That unholy city had a kind of sick beauty to it; aglow, day and night with its vile promiscuity.

Of course it was gold – gilded with the sins of those who lived there. They talked a good game about “love, love, love,” but holiness? No. Righteousness? No.

Out here in the twilight, I leaned on my shovel and stared at the ungodly abomination.

Inside, it was called by another name, but I preferred the name the Bible gave it: Babylon.

The kings would be coming soon. Bringing tribute, no doubt. Tribute and trading goods.

For almost as long as I had lived here, in the shadow of the city that never goes dark, I had lived with righteous anger against it.

I scarcely remember a time when I have not been waiting for God’s righteous judgment on that foul city.

Maybe it was the beginning of the first day I found myself here. I thought it was heaven. I thought I had finally made it. A city filled with brilliant light. They welcomed me in, gave me a place to stay. They told me how glad they were that I had come.

Continue reading “The City: A Short Story”

Why Are Conservatives Obsessed with Pedophilia Right Now?

Last week a friend shared an article about pedophiles. Apparently Germany is investigating over 30,000 people in connection with child sex trafficking. I asked myself… why share this story?

This isn’t an isolated incident of pedophile-article-sharing. I’ve seen it more and more, from that conspiracy theory about missing girls having the same unusual names as extremely overpriced cabinets on Wayfair, to PizzaGate, which argued that a pizza shop in DC frequented by the Clinton campaign was actually a front for child sex trafficking. In the case of Pizzagate, led to one man marching into the pizza shop and getting arrested.

Now, to be clearer than I hope I should need to be, child sex trafficking is wrong. Adults having sex with minors is wrong because minors cannot consent. I saw a movie about sex trafficking a few years ago. My wife and I donated to a fund that fights child sex trafficking. It’s wrong and it’s evil.

But a lot of the stories I’ve seen about child sex trafficking haven’t included any kind of call to action. No “share this number,” no “put a sign in your yard” or “don’t be a pedophile,” “seven steps to protect your kids from getting trafficked,” or even “donate to this fund to fight pedophilia.” It’s just “here’s another story about pedophiles engaging in sex trafficking. Isn’t it awful?!”

So when I saw the 30,000-pedophiles article, which to my memory came without any call to action, just a “can you believe this!” kind of comment (I don’t remember the actual comment), I just thought… what’s up with this?

I googled it, but I couldn’t find an answer that made sense to me. There’s an article on Mother Jones that addresses this in part – and comes to a similar conclusion – but I don’t think is as coherent or, honestly, as friendly to conservatives.

To understand it, you have to first understand the difference between conservatives and progressives.

Continue reading “Why Are Conservatives Obsessed with Pedophilia Right Now?”

Why I Rewrote (mangled?) “Trust and Obey”

Now I feel like a recipe blogger, making you read all this to get to what you probably came here for – lyrics and sheet music of the rewrite. If that’s what you’re after, click here.

“Trust and Obey” is a classic hymn. It has a very catchy tune, and it’s filled with truisms that make you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

However, if you look closer, a few concerning elements emerge. Plus, given my own personal baggage of an authoritarian parent who said disobeying him was tantamount to disobeying God, being told to “trust and obey” is slightly triggering – especially when it comes with the statement that it’s the only way to be happy in Jesus.

Continue reading “Why I Rewrote (mangled?) “Trust and Obey””

Should Men Preach?

In which John MacArthur’s comments about Beth Moore receive exactly as much serious consideration as they deserve.

This post is my response to John Piper’s shenanigans, adapted for John MacArthur’s more recent shenanigans.

Some dude who’s famous for… something, I guess? I think mostly it’s just for acting like a jerk. Anyway, John MacArthur apparently thinks Beth Moore should “Go Home” and stop preaching, or something to that effect.

I could 100% believe what I was reading. Mostly because John MacArthur getting traffic for saying something ridiculous is a pretty typical day.

I’m tired. I’ve spent the past few days hauling stuff from one house to another and unboxing and putting up blinds. But I thought, “Surely I have time to respond to this nonsense in the derisive manner it deserves. Not with ridiculous proof-texting, but with recycled ridiculous proof-texting.

Recycled misogyny deserves nothing less than recycled satirical proof-texting.So, without further ado, recycled satire.

Should Men Preach?

For an answer, I turn to scripture. And not just scripture – complementarian scripture. The (Male-oriented) English Standard Version, to be exact.

And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.” (Genesis 2:16-17)

Now the serpent was more crafty than any other beast of the field that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” (Genesis 3:1-3)

See how the man is already lying to the woman about what God said? By the time it gets to the woman, God’s command has been twisted and stretched.

If you can’t trust the first man, in the GARDEN OF EDEN, BEFORE THE FALL EVEN HAPPENED, to accurately relay God’s word spoken directly to him, to only ONE woman, how the heck can you trust future, fallen men, to accurately relay God’s word transferred via the Bible, to other men and then have them relay it? It’s like telephone. Gosh.


Pop quiz: Who committed the Bible’s first murder?

Answer: Cain. A man.

Then you get to Lamech (Genesis 4:23-24), who threatens sevenfold revenge to anyone who hurts him. Violent people, men.


Genesis 6:5, ESV: The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.

Not woman. Man. The flood happens because of man.


Now consider the man of faith, Abraham. He goes to Egypt and he’s such a coward that he tells his wife to lie to the Egyptians because he’s afraid. Does this sound like qualifications of a spiritual leader? No, no it does not. But she’s submissive to her husband, and next thing ya know, she’s about to be Pharaoh’s wife.

Also, the thing he’s afraid of is that the Egyptians will kill him if they find out she’s his wife. He’s wrong. So basically the man of faith has (a) told his wife to lie because (b) he has bad judgment.


Then take Sodom and Gamorrah. The Bible says (Genesis 13:13) that “the men of Sodom were wicked, great sinners against the Lord.” Nothing about the women; just the men. God destroys the whole city because of the men of Sodom.


Moses, a man disobeys God, and his wife has to circumcise their boys.


We’re gonna have to move a little faster now. All but one of Israel’s apostate idol-worshiping heads of state? Men. (Jezebel was under Ahab, you’ll recall, so Ahab was still the head of state in that case, leaving only Athaliah).

Who’s responsible for nearly all the sexual assaults and rapes in the Bible? Men.

Who’s responsible for nearly all the violence recorded in the Bible? Men.

Denier of Christ? Peter. A man.

Betrayer of Christ? Judas. A man.

Don’t forget Apollos, a man, who had to be set straight by a woman, Priscilla, whose name appears in 2/3 of mentions of the couple ahead of her husband’s name, emphasizing her significance over him.

Who discovered Christ was risen first? Women.
Who didn’t believe them? Men.
Who was right? The women. Naturally.

So when the divinely-inspired author of I Timothy says Paul doesn’t allow women to teach or exercise authority over men on the basis of the woman eating of the forbidden fruit first, he’s standing on some pretty shaky exegetical ground.

Men are inconsistent, they often fail to convey God’s word rightly, they strike rocks when God tells them to speak to rocks, they are occasionally incapable of doing anything useful unless women go with them (Judges 4:8), and regularly give other men terrible advice (see Job’s friends, for example).


So it turns out, John MacArthur shouldn’t be telling pastors and preachers who are women to go home.

He should be telling himself and other men. Maybe if we kept ourselves in the kitchen holding babies, cooking, and doing laundry, we wouldn’t have time to hold 50-year anniversary celebrations where we mocked women doing hard theological and pastoral work for having different genitalia (which is seriously such a childish thing to do).

Your kitchen is calling you, J-Mac.


NOTE: I’m a pastor and I love being a pastor. I don’t actually think female sex organs are God’s necessary qualification for ministry.