the problem with christianity in america

before we get too deep, let's cover some a couple things. i was raised a christian and despite some of the church's best attempts to get rid of me, i remain one today. i just graduated from seminary and i've worked in a local church. none of these three elements of my life in any way makes me an expert on all things christian. if anything they've only blurred my understanding of the role the church plays in the lives of its members. however, these experiences have afforded me the opportunity to wrestle with the questions of church for a long time and i guess it's time i got some of it out there.

if there's one thing i can point to that proves problematic to the church more than anything else it is expansion. there's this sense of manifest destiny in the american church. every church is supposed to grow, every denomination is supposed to grow, every pastor is supposed to get every person in their doors, and unless this happens, someone is not happy. that someone is usually not happy because someone else is telling them that they need to have more people or do more things and get more money. oh no, i said it. money.

while some may say money is the root of all evil, i tend to think its just the root of everything. without money expansion is not possible. and if expansion is not possible, then church in america is up the creek without a paddle.

g. jeffrey macdonald, a minister in the united church of christ, wrote an insightful article a couple of weeks ago for the new york times on the issue of pastor burnout in the american church. he effectively argued that pastor burnout is the result of over zealous, needy, and uniformed congregants who constantly pressure pastors for more engaging sermons and to be at the beck and call of each member of their flock. my experience tells me that macdonald is right. my pastor friends will probably agree.

but there is an element conspicuous in its absence from macdonald's estimation and all those who decided to share is assessment on facebook, twitter and the like. what's missing?

the willingness to say no on occasion.

macdonald and other pastors around the nation take their position to be one that does not afford them such an opportunity. they operate under the assumption that it is never healthy to blame oneself. it is easy to pass the buck to the congregants who ask for certain things and wish their pastor was at every function and meeting, kissing babies, shaking hands, and always praying before meals. it is very easy to say that it is their fault for the undue stress placed on pastors these days. it is much more difficult to say no.

it is difficult to say no because most pastors are people-pleasers who want nothing more than to be liked. forget being respected or trusted, being liked is the name of the game.

even more so, than the need to be liked, however, it is difficult to say no because doing so may halt expansion plans. there is this sense of fear that if someone hears the word no, they will turn away from the community and go somewhere that will say yes to them. pastors are afraid that a no will turn into a big yes for someone else thus limiting their pool for expansion. and we all know what a great quality of life living in fear brings about.

why are our "congregations gone wild," to use macdonald's title? because like children who have never heard the word no, they have no reason but to think that you will say yes to their requests. because of the constant yes, yes, yes that congregants have heard for so long, pastors have forgotten how to say no at all.

forgetting to say no, means forgetting to establish boundaries between one's self, one's responsibilities, one's sanity, and others. no you do not have to be all things to all people, pastor. if you really believe what you were ordained into, you'd think that responsibility fell to god alone. pastors and their superiors have locked themselves on this expansion train that has no feasible destination in sight, and because they have lost the willingness to say no, not because it feels good to say no, but because it is sometimes the healthiest response for all involved, they are burning out in record numbers.

what is the solution, then? i won't be shortsighted and say, "just say no," but i think that is a good starting point. i think it's high time we started recognizing that butts in seats do not disciples make and that numbers are just that: numbers. leave the number crunching to folks who didn't feel a call to be in relationship with people and to guide them through thick and thin. religious beliefs, and this goes beyond christianity, are not bound up in how many parents of young children are in any given congregation or what percentage of the congregation is capable of tithing enough to make up for those who can't or don't. they are about relationships.

pastors feel such a call (at least i think they should). and being the arbiters of relationships of all kinds they must recognize that healthy relationships have boundaries. not even the most intimate of partners know everything about one another nor do they spend every moment in one another's presence.

yes, your number may fall and others may grow, but that might not be such a bad thing. it may mean that everyone is finding god where they need to be or realizing they were missing the point all along.

you want to fill up the old houston rockets arena or build a church campus that rivals most small towns in america? that's fine. just realize that growth is not equal to the number assents you make, and you'll help christianity in america move away from resembling corporate america and start resembling the beloved community.

rewind: august 2009

here's a look back that should shed some light on exactly how gathered and scatterred this little exercise of mine might get. enjoy.

...

I made a mistake today. Big deal, you say? Yes, in fact it was a big deal. This was not your misspelling a word on your grocery list or getting frozen broccoli instead of fresh kind of mistake. Oh no. It was much worse.

I used the wrong urinal.

How does one "use the wrong urinal," you might ask? As long as one uses any urinal and does not relieve one's self on the floor, in the sink, or on another person, hasn't one successfully used the correct urinal? Yes, yes, and yes, but what it comes down to is urinal etiquette.

A simple Google search for "urinal etiquette" will turn up at least a dozen websites with each author's own take on proper usage for the perusal of men seeking to ensure that they always us the correct urinal.

In hindsight, I should have consulted one of these websites, but I thought I knew it by heart. I thought I was prepared for every possible permutation and ration of stalls to urinals, but this one got me, and it was nothing if not common. Maybe I was tired from driving or maybe I was so focused on the Big Mac I was about to consume that I just blanked. Either way, I can't forgive myself, and neither should you.

I walked into the empty bathroom. Along, the right wall just past the sinks were two urinals, on low for boys, one high for men, Past the urinals was a single stall. This common set up gave me pause for some reason. Upon later research it also gives pause to the International Center for Bathroom Etiquette. A distinguished body in the world of urinal etiquette, the ICBE offers explanations on how one should choose a urinal given certain circumstances.

The rule for two urinals is much the same as the rule fro a single, but my situation did not involve to uniform, adult urinals. It was Papa Bear and Baby Bear, and like most men trying to raise a child alone, I was confused. Here's what went through my head.

"Three options. Kiddie urinal. Close to the door. The stall's open, but I just have to pee. I don't want to take up the only stall. I mean it is McDonald's. Other urinal seems like best option, but it's sandwiched (no pun intended) in the middle. Pee.

I stood there thinking for what seemed like too long to make such a decision. I mean, what would it look like if someone were to come in and see me standing some distance from the urinals with my pants fully zipped and my hand on my chin? Would he assume I was crazy and leave? Would he break etiquette and enter into a conversation with me? Would he think he'd mistakenly stopped at Lowe's where it's natural to examine the various toilet options, and not McDonald's where such action is absurd. I wanted to make the right decision. I had a gut feeling (again no pun inten...ok maybe this one was intended) that someone would come in and I would need to be in proper formation. It is McDonald's after all. Billions served, right?

I went for the adult urinal, further assuming that at any point a child could run in needing to relieve himself and get back to the PlayPlace or someone who doesn't frequent McDonald's very often like myself could come in with a terrible need to use the stall. Turns out I was wrong.

Another man walked in simply needing to pee. Given his delay in approaching either option available to him, I could tell he was surveying the landscape. Knowing that urinal etiquette decries the use of adjoining urinals except in extreme situations with more than two available urinals, he properly chose the stall as it provides a buffer.

He shouldn't have had to make such a decision. I should have peed in the other one. ICBE rules for determining the use of a Kiddie urinal show where my mistake was made. According to the ICBE one should, "Never pee next to a Kiddie urinal unless your child is using it," and "Attempt to leave two urinals between you and the Kiddie urinal so that a child and his father might use them."

I broke both statutes. Enough said.

My mistake was over thinking. Had I acted on instinct instead of thought, I would have peed in the Kiddie urinal as it was closest to the door and would allow for the quickest trip and would have given a greater buffer for the two of us. I wish I could go back and pee in the correct urinal, but I can't. Not without Emmett Brown and the DeLorean. Better yet, I should just let it go. We both peed in approved receptacles. We both washed our hands. We both American cuisine at it's finest...Scratch that last one.

What's the big deal? I'll tell you. The big deal is urinal etiquette. And men don't mess around with urinal etiquette.

think

"I don't care what you do with your life," she said.

"Yes!" I thought, "She's finally giving in. She's going to say that she should have let me take that year off after high school and that I should just do it now. Oh, how I've waited for this day to come."

"But whatever you do," she finished, "I want you to be a thinker."

Oh. Really?

...

Those words haven't left me since she spoke them, and I must have referenced them at least a dozen times in job interviews, various essays, and even casual conversation. They just won't, or can't, leave my mind.

My mother's words were true. She's never cared what I did with my life. When I was five and wanted to be an archaeologist because it meant I would always get to play with dinosaurs, she fully supported my dream. When I fell in love with basketball and mistakenly believed I could be the next Michael Jordan, or at least make it to D1, she said OK. The closest she ever got to questioning the path my life might lead was when I decided to go to seminary.

After approaching the topic with her and my dad, the first words out of her mouth were, "OK, but you're not going to start your own church, are you? Where are do you want to go? What do they believe?" It wasn't the path I was choosing that scared her. It was the fear of losing my own perspective that gave her pause.

It's been probably six years since she told me she wanted me to be a thinker in addition to being archaeologist, athlete, or, God forbid, a man of the cloth. The only thing I can say is that of the four options, the only one that still speaks to me is the first one.

The jury is still out on whether or not I'm any good at. Studying biology and chemistry ad nauseum, a torn ACL and lack of genuine competitiveness, and a general disdain for institutions effectively knocked out the other three, but the one thing I can never escape is my mind.

From the moment I left her womb, she and my father have constantly played the devil's advocate to my thoughts and opinions. No matter the issue or opponent, there was always a validity to the other side's argument that somehow outweighed my own. I could have been arguing for the need for increased compensation and benefits for teachers, positions both have held for a long time, and yet they would find a way to argue that there were plausible reasons why they should continue being underpaid and overworked.

None of this is proof that I am in fact a good thinker or that my thoughts produce meaningful action or that they're even worth sharing. Ask anyone who knows me, and they'll tell you as much. It's merely a challenge posed by a concerned parent who wanted her son to get the most out of life. Can you blame her?
This little experiment, however, is a challenge posed by someone who very often gets lost inside his own head to himself to see if he can, in fact, take those thoughts, turn them into complete sentences on most occasions, and make them entertaining to audience of more than one. We'll see what happens.