But I probably won’t.  I think it would be too tough to let go.

I know a man, a career pastor, who gave many years of his life to his last congregation.  When they unceremoniously dumped him, he and his wife rolled in the dust of betrayal.  It was hard:  so much pain, so little peace.  They came to our congregation looking for healing.  We tried to help, and for a while we thought they’d made a new home with us.  He became an elder, she a Sunday School teacher.   As time wore on, however, it became apparent that the man was less pleased with being in the pew than he’d seemed.  He was, in fact, restless, anxious to find another church, another pulpit of his own.   Eventually, they left us.  He’d found a congregation in the area that was seeking another pastor and he wanted to position himself for the assignment.

To some of our people their departure seemed a betrayal.  But I knew better.  Once you’ve had a taste of being used by God via public ministry, you can’t just walk away.  The fellow felt called–and not to support me from the pew.  I know how he feels.

Dan Bouchelle writes about the phenomenon:  “I think the chief reason ministers can’t easily quit is their strong sense of call and the fulfillment uniquely found in ministry. When you have grown accustomed to being God’s instrument, when you have seen people touched, changed for the better, and blessed because God’s Spirit acted through your call and gifting, it is hard to leave it alone. When you have been in a place to see the hours you spent studying the scriptures, which you dearly love, bring explosions of insight to people hungry for transforming truth, you want the experience again. It’s not about how important you feel. Rather, there is a profound sense of amazement God could do something like this through you. You know it is not about you. But, you also know it wouldn’t have happened if you had not made yourself available for God to use. Like a utility player in a championship game, you got to be one the field as greatness took place. You were not just on the front row, you were involved when God worked. That is hard to replace.”

http://danbouchelle.blogspot.com/2012/03/why-ministers-cant-let-go.html

A profound sense of amazement God could do something like this through you.  Yeah, that’s it.  That’s it exactly.  I’ve felt the knife in my back, felt the rug pulled out from under my feet.  But I’ve also seen strange and wondrous things, experienced joys I would never have known had I written comic books or acted on stage for a living (as I’ve threatened to do a couple times).

The life of a pastor is a wild life; a crazy, dangerous life.  It kills you over and over again.  I know there are many men and women out there who’ve left.  I don’t blame them.  Now they’re less stressed.  Their health has improved.  They have more money in the bank.   But I don’t think they’re really happy.  They don’t miss the politics, but they miss the God stuff.

If a golden opportunity to do something else were laid before me; if it seemed to suit me to the proverbial T, I won’t lie, I’d most likely take it.   But I know I’d miss the pastorate.  There’s too much of me in it.

So, here’s to finishing the journey–and finishing strong.

Tim hesitated, stammered.  “I-I think I need to tell you something first.”

Oh Lord, please don’t let him tell me what I think he’s going to tell me.

“I’m gay.”

“Oo-kay.  In that case, I guess we need to look at more scripture.”  Moments before, all had been green fields and blue sky. Instantly, the weather and the terrain changed.  Now a cold drizzle fell as we navigated a steep mountain trail mere inches from a cliff.   I took Tim to Genesis, to Leviticus, then to Romans.  I tried to show him that homosexual behavior was not what God had intended for humanity.  In near agony, he blurted, “I can’t get married.  I just can’t!”   Calmly, I replied that he didn’t have to get married.  I suggested celibacy.  He said, “You mean I have to deny myself the rest of my life?  I can’t go without sex.”   I replied that priests and nuns lived without sex; that the longtime married, now widowed, lived without sex.  As I think about it now, the answers of an active heterosexual in this regard seem a bit pat, if not downright contradictory.

Among the things I told him was that we were all sinners, all standing on thin ice.  It therefore would make little sense for me to jump up and down on the ice beside him, hoping he’d fall in.   I tried to be as understanding and patient as I could.  But before the session was over, I could feel Tim pulling away from me.

He stopped coming to our church.  I caught up with him later on.  He told me he was now attending a gay church and felt very happy and accepted there.

“A gay church,” I later mused.  Church of Christ, Methodist,  Black, Gay–just another category of church.  Tim gauged himself, his whole life, as “gay.”  He therefore needed a church to fit the category.  The irony is that we all tend to flock to churches where we feel comfortable.

I believe homosexual behavior is sin.  I also believe premarital and extra-marital sex is sin.  I believe that divorce is sin.  I believe gluttony, avarice, and pride are sins.  And I believe–no, I know–that I am a sinner.  I therefore believe that the common denominator of any Christian congregation is sin.  It’s in the very sanctuary where the people of God gather, just as it’s in our bedrooms, kitchens, classrooms, and offices.  Wherever we go sin goes because sin is in us.   None of us can afford the luxury of spiritual pride, none of us has any business disdaining another on account of his sin, no matter how heinous or disgusting we deem it.  It’s easy to whip the skin you can skip!

The issue of gay marriage has been all over the news lately.  I’m virtually certain it’ll be a hot button issue during the  presidential campaign.  Personally, I think conservatives, Christian or not, shouldn’t waste their time.  I don’t think the “antis” will be heard.   I think the wheel has turned.  In an Out of Ur blog piece, Skye Jethani says the church lost the battle for marriage when it failed to speak out on no-fault divorce.   Indeed, if we can’t keep our own house in order, why should anyone care what we think about theirs?

Nope, I think we lost this one but good.  I’m less worried now over gay-marriage than I am my own religious liberty.   You see, I’ll marry two horses before I’ll marry two men.   This late in my career, I may not have to make such a choice, take such a risk.  But I’m certain my son will.   Until that time comes, though, I guess I’ll just have to live with the tension, trying to find ways to love the sinner as much as I hate his sin.

It’s been more than a decade since I last saw Tim.  I don’t know what he’s doing these days.   Maybe he went to another state and married some guy.  Maybe he left that lifestyle.  I wish I knew.  I wish I could just sit down with him again, saying less this time, listening more.  It wouldn’t hurt either of us.

http://www.thefish.com/books/reviews/11670140/King-of-the-Gunslingers%3a-A-Review-of-The-Wind-Through-the-Keyhole/

Last night, Barb and I watched the latest episode of  House.  It was an engrossing mystery about a Chinese-American boy tortured by bad dreams.  His hallucinations of being choked to death are so real, he stops breathing.  His grandfather believes he is the target of demons.  (I’m not sure what to call the grandfather’s religion, but it involves ancestor-worship.)  He wants to perform an exorcism.

With his usual invective, the materialistic House dismisses the idea.  As the boy’s condition deteriorates, however, bruises appear on his throat and, in what I think is the series first depiction of the out-and-out supernatural, he levitates off his hospital bed.  Though House has a scientific explanation for everything, it is plain that he, along with his elite staff, is baffled.  Nothing they do works.  When House refuses one of his doctors a long-shot treatment of simple Tylenol, saying he’s washed his hands of the whole matter, another of his staff, Chase (who once studied for the Catholic priesthood) says, “You mean you’re willing to let a child die lest someone else embrace religion?”

Reluctantly, House gives in.  The conclusion [spoiler alert] finds two forces colliding, ancient religion and modern science.  One of them heals the boy–but which?  It’s impossible to tell, but, once again, the nihilistic house of House is shaken.

His situation only grows worse, however, as the Russian woman with whom he’s been living in the legal-fiction of a marriage discovers that House has lied to her.  Though he had a letter from the INS granting her citizenship, he kept it from her because he was afraid she’d leave him.  Ironically, once she discovers the truth, Dominika, who was growing in affection and desire for him, does just that.  On top of all this, House’s only friend, Wilson (who plays a kind of Dr. Watson to House’s Holmes) tells House that he (Wilson) has cancer.

Whew!  With four episodes left in this series, they obviously plan on something other than going softly into that good night.

Since I’ve been watching the series, the last four years or so, I’ve often found myself incensed at House’s behavior.  In fact, as I remarked to Barb last night, “In real life, that guy would get the living —- beat out of him.”  He’s plainly a narcissistic sociopath who gets away with it for one reason and one reason only–he heals people.  In this regard, he rather reminds me of some of the characters in, say, the book of Judges–deeply flawed but somehow, by the will of God, effective.  More than once over the years, I’ve watched the protagonist (one can scarcely call him a hero) stare wonder in the face, the kind of wonder only a physician sees in the marvelously complex and mysterious human body.  But House’s blind eye never blinks.  He cannot love.  He will not be loved.  It’s hard to know sometimes whether to admire, pity, root for, or punch the jerk in the face.

It’s probably too much to hope for, but I’d like to see House embrace some sort of theism.  I’d be happy if he’d simply admit to the supernatural.   It wouldn’t stretch credibility.  He has, after all, been confronted time after time with the wonder of life and the reality of faith. While I’ve no idea what sort of religion, if any, the producers of the show have, they’ve not shied away from depictions of religious people.  House puts them down, of course, but they never descend to his level.  Usually, these people walk away stronger in their beliefs than ever before.  So it’s conceivable that Dr. Greg House could be headed for a conversion of sorts.  I hope so.   The show prides itself on being true-to-life.  It certainly doesn’t flinch from the theological truth that there is none righteous.  Perhaps it will also have the courage to admit this strange phenomenon, one put into words even atheists still sing, “I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.”

Pastor then goes on to review–in limerick form–Sullivan’s article.  Here’s a sampling:

“His article published in Newsweek,
caused Americans widely to now speak
about clergy corruption, and “Christian” eruptions
of behavior not loving or meek.

My thoughts on the matter? As follows:
his argument’s not at all hollow,
the critique is well taken, “churchianity” shaken,
an indictment we’d do well to swallow . . .

but I can’t recommend his conclusion
(the repeat of an age old delusion);
that if the church lets us down, we should get out of town
and leave “them” to break down in confusion.”

You can read the rest at

http://www.outofur.com/archives/2012/04/andrew_sullivan.html#more

The first and most common way people try to control God we’ll call Life UNDER God.  This is seeing God in simple terms of cause-and-effect.  Flick the switch and the light comes on.  Do what’s right and God blesses us.

But what happens when we do what’s right and God fails to bless?  “I went to youth group every Wednesday and church every Sunday, and my boyfriend broke up with me.”  “I prayed not to lose my job–and I lost it anyway.”  “I’ve done everything right and I’m still sick.  This God thing is a sham.”

All right, then, if we can’t be happy “under” God, we’ll go “over” Him.  Life OVER God cuts Him out of the equation.  We don’t need ritual or morality.  Instead, we’ll take direct control over the world via law, science, and technology.

In its most extreme form, Life OVER God is atheism, but there’s a subtle but powerful Christian variety as well.  Here, the Bible becomes a means by which to bend God to our will.  It turns the teaching of the scriptures into formulas for success:  “Five Steps to Godly Children, ” “God’s foolproof plan for wealth,” “How to Build a Big Church the Jesus Way,” etc.  We can plaster the name of God and Jesus all over such sermons–and preach something quite godless.

It isn’t that there aren’t principles to live by in the scriptures.  Paul wrote that all scripture was God-breathed and useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness (1 Timothy 3:16).  That’s useful for training in righteousness, not training in attaining the success our culture demands.  The Bible is more than Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth, more than a manual for operating a mechanistic life.  In its pages, we engage the living God in a fallen world.   The Bible, then, like God, is far more complicated, mysterious, and grand than any mere mechanism.

The religious leaders of Jesus’ day knew their Bibles up one side and down the other.  They parsed every verb, squeezed every jot and tittle to the last drop of their meaning.  Yet when the Author of the book appeared in their midst, they were completely unprepared for Him.  In fact, they killed Him.

The third, and most popular, way in which we try to control God is Life FROM God.  If life was an apple and we cut it to its core, we’d find us there.    In other words, everything and everyone–including God–exists to satisfy my desires.

While we should remember that God is our heavenly Father, a giver who wants us to ask, we have to be careful not to make God into a cosmic vending machine.  A good example of this kind of thinking is the Prodigal Son (Luke 15).  The younger son demanded his inheritance from his dad (i.e., God).  He didn’t want a relationship with his father.  He just wanted his stuff from him.

The posture of Life FROM God is epidemic in American Christianity.  Do we want a large church?  All we have to do is find out what people want, then tell them God will give it to them.

Of course, many people are revolted by such selfishness.  So they react by going the opposite direction into Life FOR God. God doesn’t exist to serve me; I exist to serve Him.  Here, Mission is the apple’s core.   Mission is good and necessary.  But what is the motivation for our mission?  What drives us?  If we’re doing more out of a mere search for personal significance, we’ve missed the point.   Many “on fire for God” are ignited more by fear of insignificance and less by a vision of Christ.  No wonder burnout is common.

The problem with the above postures is that God is always the how:   how I get stuff, how I manage my fear, how I feel better about myself.   But what if He’s more?  What if, at the core of life, we find not Me or Mission but Relationship?   Recall from Jesus’ story what the father said to his older son, the one who wouldn’t go into the party for his idiot brother, the one who, in his way, was as much a manipulator as his younger sibling:  “My son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours…”  Luke 15:31.

With me.  In other words, God doesn’t care as much about our obedience as whether we’re with Him.  He doesn’t care as much about our disobedience as He does whether we’re with Him.  The core of the Christian faith then, the essence of the Gospel is relationship.   God isn’t the way to treasure so much as He is the treasure.   Jesus isn’t just the Way, He’s the Life.

Which, then, do we love more, self or God?   But we can’t stop with that question.  Oh no, there are more waiting in that  line.  Which do we love more?  The Bible or God?  Church or God?  Mission or God?  Our answer will determine what our treasure is, and thus where our hearts are.

What I perceive to be my needs–”I need a church with a preacher who uses specific examples from real life”–may not correspond to my true spiritual needs.  Often, in fact, I am not attuned to my true spiritual needs.  Staying put is a spiritual discipline that allows God’s grace to work on unsanded surfaces of my inner life.  The biggest problem in any church I attend is my love of self.”

David L. Goetz, Death By Suburb, pp. 139f.

http://www.thefish.com/tv/reviews/11667815/By-the-Numbers:-A-Review-of-Touch

Many years ago, we had a little place out on Bear Creek in southern Ohio.  Dad always wanted a farm.  This wasn’t a big farm, but there was a tractor and room to drive the tractor.  That suited Dad.

We kept some beef cattle, including a bull—an awesome creature about as wide as a car.  The vet came one afternoon to give the bull shots.  I showed him to the corral and pointed to the bull in the barn.  The vet was clad in rubber boots and carried a plastic bucket with syringes in it.  I opened the corral, let him in, shut the corral and leaned on it, watching.

The vet said, “I don’t need you out there.  I need you in here.”

Oh.   Okay.

We walked up to Mr. Bull.  The vet said, “I’m going to give him a shot.  You hold him.”

You hold him.   

Sure!  Want me to pick him up and set him down facing the opposite direction while I’m at it?   I put a hand here and here.  I said, “Okay!  I got ‘im!”  I knew that, if that bull didn’t like what happened next, he’d kick us both through the barn wall.

Well, the vet stuck him.  Mr. Bull shuddered a little (or was that me?).  And it was over.

I mention this because there have been a lot of times in my life when I wanted to stay on the safe side of the fence and not enter the arena of love.  Love has no illusions about taking the bull by the horns–or by anything else it’s got.  Love knows its own strength.  Love knows it can get hurt badly.   But love also knows it’s needed in here, not out there.   And it does what’s required.

“You hold him while I stick Him.”  That’s what the vet told me.  But the one who loves is the one who gets stuck, usually while he’s trying to hold something or someone steady.

Not only does he get stuck; he sticks around.  He stays put until the job is done.  Is that easy?  Ask the woman whose husband never pays her a compliment, never lifts a hand to help her.  Ask the man whose wife can’t give him what he needs.  Ask somebody whose spouse is going crazy.

I knew a man who found himself married to a schizophrenic.  The formal diagnosis was “schizo-affective disorder.”  He didn’t marry her like that, of course.  It was a number of years before she started exhibiting the symptoms, the bizarre behavior.  When she was bad, she’d scream in the night.  She’d march through the house with gun—thankfully, unloaded—shooting at imaginary enemies.  Once, she attacked her husband, jumping on him as he lay on the couch.

Twenty years into their marriage, she began a long series of hospitalizations, drug therapy, shock treatments.  She didn’t get better.  She gradually got worse.  Mercifully, he didn’t have to bear the worst.  He died of a heart attack.

How do you live with somebody like that?  How do you stay married to somebody like that?  Was he ever tempted to cheat on her, looking not so much for sex as sanity?  He never told me.  He just did what he had to do.

Some people wouldn’t call that love.  They’d call that crazy.  But, let’s face it, what real sense is there in love?  It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.   It is extravagant, wasteful–and more powerful than any force on earth.

I’ve seen it grant decades of life to babies who weren’t supposed to live to toddlerhood.  I’ve seen it give people a reason to live, to hope, to endure.  Love writes stories that men tell for thousands of years.  It drops like a stone into the pool of history and the ripples radiate into eternity.  Love never fails.

How can it be otherwise when love is of God and everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God?

Breathes there a man with soul so dead who doesn’t thrill to that description, purple as the western sage, the William Tell Overture trilling in the background?   (All right, a man over fifty!)

Currently, Disney is filming a new version of The Lone Ranger.  Recently, I saw a photo of the leads, Armie Hammer and Johnny Depp, in costume and make-up.  Lots of make-up.  Depp, who plays the faithful Indian companion, looks as painted and fierce as any brave on the warpath.  I tend to doubt that he’ll go around like that through the entire movie, but we’ll see.  Hammer looks more like an undertaker than the iconic Ranger.  It’s a grim photo, more suggestive of the Addams Family than the Lone Ranger and Tonto.  But one shouldn’t judge a movie more than a year away from release by one picture.

It’ll definitely be a new take on an old character.  For those of us who grew up with Clayton Moore and Jay Silverheels (or, even more codger-ly, who remember the radio series), the new version may seem anathema no matter how it plays out.  My first reaction to the photograph was apprehension:  “Uh oh.  They’re gonna screw it up.”  Then, grudgingly, I admitted to myself that, though I own quite a few of those old Clayton Moore episodes on VHS and DVD, I rarely watch them. That, I further had to admit, was because they’re rather staid and repetitive, not to say boring.  So, I’ll withhold judgment until the silver bullets actually fly across the silver screen (please, please tell me he’ll still shoot silver bullets!).

The irony is that, for many years, the masked man and Tonto have been reexamined and rebooted a number of times.  Anyone remember the ill-fated Legend of the Lone Ranger film that came out in 1981?  Though it remained more or less faithful to the character as many remembered him, the movie was as long and flat as the prairie.  Forgettable as it was, however, I’ll take it over the execrable TV effort of 2003.  In that one, the Ranger got nekkid in a hot tub with an Indian maiden and dabbled in New Age mysticism.

Much better were the efforts in new comic books bearing his name.  They didn’t–couldn’t–please everybody, but, for the most partI found them entertaining.

In the early Nineties, Topps Comics produced a memorable four-issue adventure entitled The Lone Ranger and Tonto.  Written by Joe Lansdale and illustrated by Tim Truman, the series imagines the early years of the team as they ride high on a wave of good publicity.  The Ranger is the star of a worshipful series of dime novels which, unfortunately, paint Tonto as his ignorant shadow, a monosyllabic savage the masked man deigns to call friend.  Believing his press, this guy needs to be taken down a peg before he can rise again to become the hero we all know and love.

Though the origin of the Lone Ranger was altered somewhat from the traditional telling, the story offered humor and action depicted in a gritty style.  And Tonto at last came into his own as a genuine character–intelligent, witty, sarcastic, but ultimately loyal to the Ranger.

2006 saw the release of a new series from Dynamite Comics, The Lone Ranger, written by Brett Matthews and drawn by Sergio Cariello.  Positively, the characters and dialogue were interesting.  On the negative side was excessive violence and snail pacing.  It featured lots of nice artwork, but was awfully slow-moving.  I liked how Matthews handled Tonto, showing him as what he is–an Indian, a wild man in a wild land.  He’s not monosyllabic, like the stereotypical Tonto, but he’s not entirely at home with English.  Nor does he share his friend’s scruples against killing.  But the convictions of the former John Reid aren’t simply a given.  After the slaughter of his father, brother, and fellow Texas rangers, those beliefs have come hard.

The latest series, also from Dynamite, began just a few months ago.  In it, the Ranger is a man of honor, courage, and integrity who will not kill–just like the guy Clayton Moore played.  But the stories are anything but staid and simplistic.  Above, I mentioned the Ranger believing his own press in another story.  It’s quite the opposite in this one.  In fact, in the latest issue there’s a thoughtful dialogue between LR and a government agent about the risks and benefits of good publicity.  The writer, Ande Parks, begins this chapter with a long deistic quote from Mark Twain.  You can’t get much more sophisticated than that!

(I object, however, to the “religious” bad guy in the latest episode, another “I’m gonna hang ya in the name of the Lord!” caricature. It hurts an otherwise mature, suspenseful tale.)

Despite the fact that most modern kids have never heard of him, the idea of a lone Texas ranger, the masked survivor of a bloody canyon massacre, fighting against outlawry and oppression with a Native American at his side, remains compelling.  I still worry a bit when each new incarnation appears, but I’m glad that writers and artists still see this hero as viable in the twenty-first century.  As for innovations, heck, from time to time, every range rider needs to smack the dust off his britches.

Hi yo, Silver, away!