Where the Hell is the Church?

The seven year old boy three doors down just slashed his wrists. Fortunately they found him before he bled to death. He was mad because social services were going to take him and his seven brothers and sisters away from their drug addicted mommy. We fed all the kids cookies, but, Oh God, they need more than that.

Mrs. E came to me crying last Monday. She's afraid that her embittered next door neighbor will seek revenge on her family for having reported him to the police for beating his wife every night. The man is now out of jail and knows who turned him in. She's already been assaulted once (in front of our church while waiting in the food pantry line) and is afraid he'll burn down her house like he did to those other buildings. She asks for prayer 'cause she thinks her brother will soon be killed.

The bastard child S. bears the insults of even the old ladies in the church for being an illegitimate girl and having a "no good" boyfriend. She embarrassed to even say hello to me, a pastor.

E. missed prayer meeting today. I hope it's not because he has relapsed.

Mr. R came over the other day and asked for some food. We gladly took some to him, but I had to turn him down when he wanted cash as well. The poor guy was so high he could hardly keep his eyes on me. I'm not sure if I'd ever seen a high person before, but it's a pathetic sight. Such slavery.

Meanwhile, all the good Christians are out in the suburbs enjoying their lattes from Starbucks and picking out a new plasma-screen HDTV for their second living room. The thought must never occur to them that hell is only a few miles away in the direction of downtown and that God needs warriors to go fight some battles.

Where the hell is the church? And why isn't it here in hell where it should be? The seven year old and Mrs. E and bastard S. and Mr. E and Mr. R need a little bit of Jesus, but there isn't much to go around. 'Cause for some reason the church has left this neighborhood and set up shop elsewhere. I'm sitting here on 12th Street and I feel alone. And I'm mad at the church for not being here for my seven year old friend.

Where the hell are you, church?

The Alternative

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything take your Zoloft and Lexapro daily."

Fork in the Road: Another Post about Free Methodism

I published this on the Free Methodist Soul Searching blog which can be viewed at http://www.fmcna.typepad.com/soul_searching/

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The Free Methodist Church is in the middle of an identity crisis. All of us who follow the church closely know this. Once a sect on the margins of society, we have become a primarily middle-class, mainstream evangelical denomination with little to offer America that is distinctive from the other church down the street.

As a new pastor working in the inner city, I am beginning to understand the importance of co-operating with other churches in accomplishing God’s mission. And this leads me to ask the very important question: What makes the Free Methodist Church different than any other church? What do we have to offer that is unique as part of the body of Christ?

In my opinion, two options lie before us. First, we can return to our roots by once again becoming a sect which devotes itself to ministry among the poor. We can, like the early Free Methodists, choose to live lives of radical simplicity and generosity, shunning the upward mobility of American culture and standing prophetically against the increasing materialism of our age. We can do this both in families and as churches. As churches, we can decide to relocate our buildings out of the suburbs and into the inner cities of America. We can stop spending God’s precious money on padding for our pews and indoor basketball courts. (If I sound radical here, please read B. T. Roberts and I think you’ll find him much more abrasive). We can channel our funds into food pantries, community centers, homeless shelters, and soup kitchens. And as families, we could reject the middle-class American way of life with its brand name clothes, new cars, and suburban houses. All of this sacrifice is, of course, so that we could live in solidarity with the poor and provide more for their needs. As a community, we could decide to “live simply so that others might simply live.” But this option would require a deliberate shift from our focus on reaching middle to upper class America. We would make this shift not because we are convinced that middle class America needs no church -- for they certainly do -- but because this need is being met by many denominations and OUR place in the body of Christ is to minister to the marginalizes of society.

The other major option I would propose is this: we continue to target not the poor, but middle class America. However, if we choose this option, I believe we ought to overcome the denominational boundaries which separate us from other Christians. We ought to merge with the Wesleyans, Nazarenes, and other holiness denominations. As it is now, we are simply duplicating what they are doing, but oftentimes not doing it nearly as well. It would be better to extend to them our hand of fellowship and stop trying to fill the exact same niche in American evangelicalism. If this means the end of Free Methodist identity, then so be it. In my opinion, we lost our identity long ago.

The status quo will not suffice. We must choose to either become distinctive again or to merge with others who are doing the exact same things we are doing and bring unity back into the body of Christ. Personally, I prefer the first option because I think it is more “Free Methodist,” but I would be happy to see us move in either direction. We simply cannot continue with business as usual or we will miss out on what God is doing in our part of the world.

For Mrs. B

Your black skin and blue eyes betray a difficult past
of mixed races and mixed concoctions of pain
You've sought and sought and sought relief
in bottles and pills and men
But you hurt and hurt and long inside
for something you know not what
Your matted hair and yellowed teeth cannot hide your beauty
for when you smile I see God in all his majesty
I'm glad my words touched your heart and made you well with tears
but rest assured, it was not me --
the One who moved you was He that moves mountains,
the One who will make you whole again
and bring back that girlish innocence once ignorant of pain
Let us praise Him together, hand in hand, who meets us filthy beggars
and shapes our scars into a map of our salvation

Independence Day

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America." Like most children, I used to say this each morning at school as a little boy. But as I grew older, this became more and more difficult to say. I learned that although we believed that "all men are created equal," we enslaved millions of them because of their skin color. I learned that we made treaties with the natives, broke them, and stole their land. I learned that we interned Japanese-Americans during WWII even though they were just as American as any of us. Oh well, I thought. No country is perfect. We're different now.

But are we?

We're still holding people prisoners without giving them a trial. We're still torturing people behind closed doors. We're still waging wars without thinking of the damage it does to others. We're still exploiting the planet for all its worth without thinking about our future. We're still colonialists who believe in manifest destiny. We still trample people who get in our way.

I've decided in the last few years to pledge my allegiance to something else... something much higher and nobler and longer lasting. I pledge my allegiance to the kingdom of God. A kingdom which is present with us now, but which will be fully revealed at a later time. A kingdom not dependent upon violence and the exploitation of others for its existence, but rather one that worships the Lamb who was slain. One in which St. Peter puts away his sword because a new power is being revealed. Yes, I pledge allegiance to this kingdom.

Some Christians are able, in good conscience, to pledge their allegiance to both America and Christ. I cannot. The two are far too incompatible. I must make a decision to stand up for what I believe in. Do I believe in money and power and military might and oil and "the American way of life" or do I believe in suffering alongside the crucified one?

I pledge my undivided allegiance to the Lamb of God who reveals a new way to be human. I celebrate my independence today from any other loyalty.