Covenant Coalition - Conservative Presbyterians and Where Do We Go?

One thing for sure, reading The Layman is akin to watching a hurricane from aloft – it spins and spins and spins some more, round and around a singular eye – the ordination of LGBT persons.

With this agenda, the Presbyterian Coalition comes out now in opposition to three amendments:

- 10-A, which aims to focus and sharpen our Ordination Standards with wonderfully traditional language.

-10-1, a proposed new Form of Government.

-10-2, the Belhar Confession, a remarkable document coming out of the struggle of South African Christians to find a way through and beyond the horrors of Apartheid.

There’s nothing imaginative about a hurricane, and there’s nothing imaginative in the response of the Coalition to the three amendments – though predictably predicable: in their eyes, all three amendments will be used to promote the ordination of “homosexuals.”

Which is to say, the current G-6.106b was never intended to promote either fidelity within marriage or chastity in singleness, but was a cleverly worded phrase to slam the door on the ordination LGBT persons in a same-gender relationship, or who, for reasons of faith and conscience, will not take a vow of celibacy.

But like all hurricanes, this one, too, is losing its strength.

How often can one say no? How long can one bar the door?

Perhaps that’s the fear behind their rejection of Belhar – a reminder that justice prevails ultimately, and though the road to justice is full of landmines and barbed wire obstacles crafted by the guardians of the old order, the new thing God is doing to further the cause of justice in God’s world gains headway and strength from the opponents standing in its way.

In the same issue, it’s noted that the Colonial Church near Kansas City has voted overwhelmingly to leave the PCUSA and seek affiliation with the EPC.

And to that decision, I can only add my blessing and peace.

Our history is full of separations for all kinds of reasons – Presbyterians share this in common with the whole of Christendom.

Splits happen in bowling, and they happen in the church, too.

Until such time as the Millennium is upon us, we will struggle with our frailties, doing the best we can to honor the LORD Jesus Christ.

I honor the LORD by working for the ordination of LGBT persons, marriage equality and the right of our clergy to officiate at LGBT weddings.

While some would call me apostate, I think it’s time for us to quit such name-calling and simply get on with our respective visions, in separate churches, if need be, allowing for a gracious separation.

Perhaps we can yet work out some kind of a local option for Presbyteries and/or congregations, and I’d be willing to live with some such arrangement.

But as much as the Coalition fears the ordination of “homosexuals,” I long for the day when we will be able to ordain whomever the LORD calls to ministry, trusting our Presbyteries with the time-honored task of guiding and examining those within its boundaries, determining their suitability for ministry.

Enough, okay?

Let’s work out a peace treaty of some sort where we can all following the dictates of our conscience and faith, interpreting the Scriptures and Confessions as the Spirit leads.

And if we cannot craft a peace treaty, then let’s declare an armistice, a cessation of hostilities, and let’s all go home to our families.

There’s been enough blood shed on both sides! 

Anti-Islamic Sentiment in America

John Buchanan, editor of The Christian Century and pastor of Chicago's Fourth Presbyterian Church, writes poignantly of his loving grandmother's seething mistrust about Roman Catholics, and how radio evangelists with their lurid publications promoted hatred and raised lots of money.

Here is John's fine editorial, from the September 21 issue:

The Christian Century

Thinking Critically. Living Faithfully.

EDITOR'S DESK

Nonnegotiable

Sep 08, 2010 by John M. Buchanan

In his New York Times column (August 22), Nicholas Kristof wrote about the controversy over the proposal to build an Islamic community center in lower Manhattan: "For much of American history, demagogues have manipulated irrational fears toward people of minority religious beliefs, particularly Catholics and Jews . . . Today's crusaders against the Islamic Community Center are promoting a similar paranoid intolerance, and one day we will be ashamed of it."

His column reminded me that members of my family, showing the influence of their Scottish/Irish ancestors, believed that the pope was behind a Catholic conspiracy to take over the government of the United States. I used to sit on the front porch with my grandmother, otherwise the gentlest, most unconditionally loving person in my young life, while she regaled me with stories about what was going on under the dome of the Roman Catholic cathedral one block away. They're storing guns in the basement, Grandma assured me, and I imagined that the windows in the dome were gunports through which "they" planned to fire on the rest of the city.

Grandma was a lifelong Presbyterian, but at some point she stopped attending church and began to listen to radio evan­gelists and to send them modest contributions. Her mail was full of the radio evangelists' newsletters and gospel tracts with vivid pictures of the devil and the fires of hell devouring hapless sinners—along with appeals for more money. Some of it was benign. She adored Billy Graham. But some of it was toxic: anti-Catholic, anti-Semitic, anti-immigrant. As she aged, my grandmother became more dependent on the radio preachers. She also subscribed to their newspapers for me, including The Sword of the Lord, which condemned ecumenism, mainline church leaders and the civil rights movement—in short, everything I found compelling about the Christian church and its worldview. Nothing galvanized editors of that publication like Catholicism; when John Kennedy ran for president, The Sword of the Lord and Grandma knew that the end was near.

I loved my grandmother and treasure the memory of her love for me, but I'm ashamed of her worldview, and I cringe at Americans' recurrent irrational fear of minorities.

The most tragic dimension of that irrational fear is the way it is exploited by politicians. I cannot comprehend how otherwise sane and thoughtful people can conclude that an Islamic com munity center two blocks away from Ground Zero is inappropriate—not to mention dangerous—and think that the religion of the Qur'an is any more violent than much of the religion of the Bible. It's not a mosque and it's not on the site of the World Trade Center twin towers, but even if it were, the right of all Americans to pray and worship how and who and where they choose is one of the most important rights and values of our nation. It is not negotiable.

The Purpose of a Confession

" 'Confessions' exist for us to go through them (not once but continually), not for us to return to them, take up our abode in them, and conduct our further thinking from their standpoint and in bondage to them. The church never did well to attach itself arbitrarily to one man - whether his name was Thomas ... or Luther, or Calvin - and in his school to attach itself to one form of doctrine. And it was never at any time good for it to look back instead of forwards as a matter of principle" (Barth, in Eberhard Busch's biography, p. 375).

The church is always tempted to find a place wherein it can find shelter; the only problem is this: such shelters are never God, but always our poorly constructed houses of straw.

Because standing in the shelter of God never quite feels safe enough for us, and, indeed, it's not all that safe.

God takes us on a great adventure, and sometimes our hearts are not up to it, and we want to find a pleasant tree somewhere in Palestine and settle down beneath its pleasant shade ... or on the Mount or Transfiguration, at least build booths for everyone.

The history of the church can be seen, I think, as a constant tussle between the heart's desire for security and the Spirit's call to adventure.

When things get dicey, the church hunkers down in the bunkers of orthodoxy. But what a loss, for in the very things we call dicey, God is at work. In one sense, hunkering down is a genuine loss of faith - faith in God and God's providence.

When things get dicey, the church goes looking for heretics so as to silence the inner voices of our own doubt (always our companion, though mostly quiet) and the voice of God, beckoning us onward.

If we trust God's providence, knowing the perfect love of Christ, a love that casts out all fear, then we can be brave and confident and bold in our faith, even as we are humble and patient and respectful before the mysteries of life in a myriad of human beings and ideas.

Fear, and the enemies it makes, destroys our faith.

But welcome and affirmation gives wings to our faith, faith in God who is creator of the world, and remains the decisive factor in it's history, gathering up everything - the good, the bad and the ugly - into the unfailing energy of redemption and the eventual new heaven and new earth. 

Jane Spahr on Trial - Presbyterian Church

As I read today's note (August 24, 2010) in the LA Times about Jane Spahr to be tried by the PCUSA, I couldn't help but think of the text for this past Sunday, Luke 13:10-17, Jesus setting a woman free from 18 years of affliction, and doing so on the Sabbath, to make a point (he and the lady could have waited 24 hours) - healing is what the Sabbath is all about.

And then the synagogue leader weighs in - scolding folks, "Hey, we've got six days for work, and if you want healing, come on those days, but the Sabbath is for rest - keep it holy - no work!"

And that's when Jesus lays into the leader and his gang, "You hypocrites. You wouldn't treat an ox or donkey this way - you lead them to water on the Sabbath, so why deny the water of life to this woman on the Sabbath? What better day is there for revealing the love of God and the freedom therein?"

While Jesus stood on the intent of the law, the leader clung to the letter of the law. And according to the law, the leader was right and Jesus was wrong. 

So, here we go again, arguing about our laws.

And missing the point of the kingdom of God.

Jane Spahr is technically wrong, if that's the tact we wish to take. Jesus was wrong, too, and someone might have told him, "Wait 24 hours. Then do your healing. No one will be offended, the law will be maintained and everyone will be happy."

But Jesus didn't wait, because love and mercy and forgiveness and hope can't wait.

So ... we'll drag Jane into the mud of our own foolish little world of rules - rules that keep people bound - hungering and thirsting for a better day.

We wouldn't treat a dog this way.

But people?

Yeah, keep 'em tied up, and tie 'em up all the more with rules upon rules, until no one knows which way is up.

Sure, I am what I am - a supporter of marriage equality, comfortable with the biblical work done by Jack Rogers and others.  

And I've been called an apostate, a heretic and a servant of Satan.

No one has the final word, and I surely don't claim that, but with prayer and study, I've made my decision some years ago to no longer wait, and just to keep myself honest, I continue to study and think about these things.

But I write this note with a certain conviction, that Jane Spahr is pointing the way ahead, reminding us what the church and our faith is all about - setting people free. While the charges fly and the legal briefs are prepared, the PCUSA finds itself in the uncomfortable place of the synagogue leader.

That's how I see it these days.  

The Enemy Within

Have ya' read the latest "Layman" (August, 2010) and its "Letters to the editor"?

The anger runs deep.

And I'm sympathetic ... there have been times in my life, more than I like to admit, when anger, self-righteous anger (which, of course, all anger is, right?), ruled the day, and the night as well, violating the advice of Scripture, to not allow the sun to go down on one's anger.

The problem with long-standing anger is that it's never accurate in its assessment of the situation. Anger, like a magnifying glass, focuses the heat of a legitimate concern into a white-hot beam that destroys.

The letters in this issue reveal a loss of control. Anger has simply taken over mind and heart.

The enemy, the PCUSA, is all wrong. Which, of course, in even the worst of all times, wouldn't be true - after all, even a broken watch is right twice a day.

I feel for the letter-writers. They've painted themselves into a corner, and there's no way out for them right now. So the corner becomes home, and though the corner is always an uncomfortable place in which to live, it's defended with growing intensity, until all the corner-dwellers have convinced themselves they're living in theological luxury.

There would be a way out, if they could rise above their anger and temper their opinion with the simple reality that the "enemy" is more within them than anywhere else.

And a good dose of humility. But corner-dwellers cannot afford humility, because humility requires some sense of appreciation for the very people being vilified, and a sense of personal incompleteness - that whatever the opinion, the judgment, the theological point of view, no one has a full and complete grasp of God's truth and God's Kingdom.

We are what we are. Fully human and deeply sinful. And all the creeds in the world, and all our protestations to the contrary, our frailty and our fault remain.

Self-righteousness, amplified by limited conversation with other corner-dwellers, exits on all sides of any given question.

The challenge for any of us is this: how to hold an opinion (and that's what it all is, after all) firmly and faithfully, without drifting into ideology (always the danger, and let's just call it idolatry).

My heart goes out to the letter-writers. They're profoundly unhappy, and if they're pastors, my heart goes out, as well, to their congregations. That kind of anger walks into the pulpit most Sundays, for sure, and spills out into the pews, tainting the gospel with the aroma of rot.

So be it.

Church history is the story of our fightings with one another. I guess such will be the case until the final trumpet is sounded.

But until then, does not the gospel call us to something other than merely being angry with one another?

Is there not the Holy Spirit upon whom we can call, and whose influence might temper our restless hearts?

After all, said Paul, our enemies are not flesh and blood, but spiritual powers and principalities.

I think there comes a time when God walks away from a persistently angry person or organization. As in Paul's letter to the Romans, God abandons us to "shameful lusts," and there is no greater lust than the lust to be right, and no greater shame than the willful condemnation of one another.

Much Ado About "Believing"

American Christians have made much ado about "believing," which is just fine if there's adequate knowing. But in the last 50 years, large portions of American Christianity have settled for "believing" with lots of emotion, and even commitment, without the knowing (both progressives and conservatives have surrendered the depths and heights of the faith).

I'm inclined to think that believing is a good thing, but one can't always believe - sometimes we doubt, and sometimes darker moods prevail. 

But what can never be taken away, never waver is knowledge. Knowledge of the creeds and doctrines of the church. Of course, this isn't belief, but knowing well what scripture and tradition offer us is a genuine foundation, and if someone knows well what faith is all about, in terms of belief and behavior, the believing occurs, I think, more naturally. It no longer needs to be reinforced by hype and drama, but grows evenly and surely, if not surprisingly.

For pastors to be rabbis, above all else. Teachers!

And for congregations to pledge a new loyalty to learning - not always the most exciting thing, but let's not measure things by their excitement factor. 

If we could liberate our congregations - indeed, our American congregations, and youth groups and Sunday Schools, from their addiction to "entertainment" and "excitement" and "fun" and all the other bloated adjectives and adverbs we use these days and just be about "our Father's business," we'd do everyone a huge favor, and might, once again, become for our land "the salt of the earth and the light of the world."

All of this must be done, of course, without the harshness of dogma - but with the sweetness of Christ. 

For our congregations to become places of great learning, we need pastors and elders committed to great teaching - a renewed passion for discipleship, student-ship! To be covered in the dust of the The Rabbi!

Let's free our pastors from the hideous pressures of "building the numbers" and "seeing to the lawn" and forever "calling on Widow Brown." Let's recover the "teaching elder" dimension of our tradition so that our congregations will be repositories of good knowledge, that our pulpits will be sources of steady and, yes, even inspiring, knowledge of the texts, the traditions and the times! That our youth groups and our Sunday School classes will have serious dimensions of learning the faith - catechesis and reflection, to buttress the legitimate "fun and games" that children and youth deserve.

At first, visitors might well sample all of this, and turn away, seeking a much more intense version of the "fun and games" so peculiar to American Christianity, but I believe in God at this point, and God will save those whom God is saving, and we can rely upon God ... if only God can rely upon us!

That when a visitor should come our way, they will meet depth and height and width and breadth, the likes of which will intrigue their soul and invite further inquiry ... and who knows, one-by-one, "lost souls" will be given, by the Holy Spirit through out faithful and thoughtful witness, a vision of the Kingdom of God.

posted originally at the Presbyterian Outlook.

I Am the Enemy

According to The Layman, I am everything that's wrong with the Presbyterian Church. My theology is apostate, my ethics are hideous; apparently, I have given up on Jesus Christ years ago, I have abandoned Scripture, thrown out the baby with the bathwater, and I am leading the church down the road to perdition.

Strange.

I got up this morning, brushed my teeth and shaved. I read a book and read my Bible. I worked on the July 4 message and will prepare the liturgy later today, a day late, because I've been home with a nasty cold - no doubt, some form of punishment for my wicked ways.

I love my children and they love me.

I love my wife, and she puts up with me, and that's miracle enough for any day.

I have friends, new and old, and I constantly receive notes from folks, via Facebook and the mail, thanking me for my ministry - a very humbling thing, of course, because any minister worth her salt realizes that it's grace, and grace alone, that enables us to touch a person's life with hope.

But I'm the enemy, according to The Layman, and I'm responsible for the decline of the Presbyterian Church the last 50 years.

When I think about it, that's a pretty serious charge, and I've given it some thought. I've granted to The Layman over the years the benefit of the doubt, and I've tried to listen to their concerns.

From my point of view, there's enough blame to go around, and who can blame anyone for the vast cultural changes affecting our world.

I don't think it's a question of blame?

I think it's a question of opportunity. Look, things have always been in flux, and there have been times of social prosperity for the church (history makes painfully clear that social prosperity doesn't always equate faithfulness) and times of displacement. So, what's the big deal?

Didn't Paul counsel Timothy to preach the gospel, in season and out of season? I think if we spent far less time blaming the other guy and simply did our best, as God has laid it upon our hearts, we'd be a far healthier voice to the world.

Oops, I forgot. We'd still have to make justice decisions, wouldn't we? Especially with regard to our LGBT sisters and brothers, and corporate greed and investment policies and militarism and war and poverty and education. As long as some want to keep the door closed to LGBT persons, I work to get it open, all the way.

Anyway, I'm trying to figure out what "an enemy" looks and feels like.

I feel pretty friendly this morning. And aside from a little weight I'd be happy to lose, I look pretty good, too.

So, I don't know what "the enemy" feels and looks like. Guess I'll have to read The Layman a little bit more.