rustypants speaks

huge billboard on I-65 in alabama, en route to pensacola.

hee hee – what are these people thinking?

i’ve long used words that some people find offensive (i.e. “sucks” “bites” “blows” “pissed” “butthead” “pissed-off”) but few groups of people get their panties in a twist about it like Christians. i’ve been accused of going out of my way to use words like these just to be “challenging” or “anti-authoritarian” and i suppose if i were honest about it, there have been some times when i’ve done that. but really, for the most part it’s just an ingrained part of my vocabulary – on top of that, i don’t find these words offensive.

but my story is two-fold.

several years ago i was invited to speak at a youth rally at a church in KY. the youth pastor (my friend jake) called me up one day and said, “dude, i want you to come and be the main speaker at this youth rally – can you do it?” “sure,” i said, checking dates, etc. “that’s awesome” he says, “but i have to tell you something… james (the pastor of his church) told me to tell you that he’s ok with you speaking, but that if you use the words ‘suck’ or ‘pissed’ in your message, you’ll never speak again at any youth rally at this church.” james, as you can tell, knew my love of these words.

“well, that blows!” said i, not necessarily with a straight face. but i agreed to refrain from using the words, and we shared a good laugh over that and joked about it in the weeks / months leading up to the rally.

come the day of the rally, i was on best behavior. no sucks. no bites. no pissed. good rally, good time, everyone was happy. i had one near-pissed but managed to catch it just before it came out of my mouth.

but that was only one part of this story.

the other part takes place some time later at cincinnati christian university.

CCU’s a good place. top notch professors, good administration, good education. most of the people there are awesome and i had a good time there. one thing they do is once a month there’s a commuter study break – donuts, coffee, juice, and staff comes and hangs with the commuters while we stuff our faces with free delicious donuts.

this one particular morning, jake and i are sitting at a table with three professors, one of whom is dr. north. north seems to have been at CCU for about 85 years, is a nice guy but VERY strict, very straightforward, straight-shooting, and while he’s got a sense of humor, it’s probably put to best use in a nursing home full of christians. so there we sit – jake and i are being our usual silly junior-high-minded selves and three starchy professors. we somehow get on the topic of language and i tell the above story to the assembled group, laughing and carrying on all the way. while explaining how james doesn’t want me to use the word “suck” in my message, dr. north interrupts me.

“well, scott” he says in his grandfatherly, pastoral way, “back in my day, the word ‘suck’ meant only one thing, and we both know what that was!”

and my world stopped. sounds went mute. movement froze. the lights dimmed. and there was only dr. north and me. can you picture my dilemma? can you hear what was racing through my antagonistic, smartass, anti-authoritarian mind?

dr. north, ultra-conservative old-fashioned ancient minister teacher author known throughout the restoration movement for his views on theology and church has just set me up.

and just before i open my mouth to say (with a fake puzzled look already plastered to my face), “why, no, dr. north, i don’t know – what DID it mean back in your time?” jake kicks me under the table. HARD. he had seen the look on my face, understood that the world had stopped and that i was about to attempt a take-down on the “don’t-trifle-with-me” CCU octogenarian. and he couldn’t let me do it.

and it sucked.

following my rant on God saving me from his followers, i’ve received a good amount of email, IM’s and phone calls about the issue of church, God’s people, and my situation, among other things.

one of the IM’s i got was from an old friend, greg teselle. he wrote a plea for all paid ministers to resign a couple months ago and i think it’s worth taking a look at.

i’ll take his argument a step further, in fact.

long before the fiasco at my previous church occurred, i had been struggling with the concept of paid ministry.

why?

1. the church gets cheapened by becoming not only your “brothers and sisters” but also your “employer” – where does the line get drawn?
2. what is the standard by which ministers are then held?
a. attendance?
b. how the leadership perceives your ministry is going?
c. whether you use _________ (fill in the blank) enough times in your sermon each week
d. how many people are “saved” each year/quarter/month/week
e. number of baptisms?
f. how much is in the collection plate each week?
g. make up your own here
3. what happens when life takes a turn and the minister is unable to minister as he had before? when the minister needs ministering, will the church cut and run?
4. the pressure of pleasing the select group that must be pandered to (leadership? deacons? elders? the founding family of the church? the biggest contributor?) means that you’ve already knocked out the Holy Spirit’s guidance. (this is NOT an indictment on all churches or my saying that all churches i’ve worked with or attended have been run this way)

in essence: church becomes a business. it becomes less about the grace of God and becomes more about a set of man-made standards that are arbitrarily made and/or followed.

this isn’t always true, and i freely admit that there are a large number of churches out there that are doing fantastic ministry without petty squabbles, money-related issues, factions engaged in behind-the-scenes wrangling, ministers with wrong motives, etc.

but i wonder: if paid ministers quit, what would happen? would the church suddenly take notice that they had a responsibility that goes beyond warming pews and dropping a dollar in the plate on Sunday mornings? would the sheep stand up and lead? and would the goats scatter?

what’s my experience in this area? i was the volunteer youth minister at a couple churches over the course of 10 years. over the last 4-5 years, i’ve been on staff as the paid youth minister. i’ve seen both sides and frankly, i can’t imagine going into paid ministry again. my vision as of the summer of 2005 was to go to grad school, get my master’s degree in special ed, quit as the paid youth minister and continue as the youth minister in a volunteer capacity.

so: is there a solution?

i think the model greg is trying with his church, shale harbor, is a good start. root around a little bit and look at what they’re doing.

check out this article from last Sunday’s washington post talking about alternate forms of worship pursued by folks who are tired/burned out on the traditional church model.

read george barna’s book, “Revolution: Burned Out On Church? Finding vibrant faith beyond the walls of the sanctuary.” i’m part way through it now, and as barna is probably the biggest statistics dude out there in evangelical america, he’s got a lot to say on shifting perceptions in the traditional church business.

i’m encouraged by the things i see happening.

but i’m still shopping for a good jockstrap.

over the last couple weeks, i’ve gotten some friendly inquiries from a couple folks wanting to know if my faith is doing ok.

and my response would have to be, “faith in what?” or “faith in whom?”

well, you know, ever since you were somewhat screwed over by your last church. since you and lise have been dealing with mind-numbing medical and mental health issues for the last 3 years. you know, since you feel like you’ve been on the continual downside of the rollercoaster. since you’ve not gone back to church since leaving the ministry. you know, since you don’t really talk about Jesus in all of your blog posts (i mean, you are a minister, aren’t you? you are a christian, right?).

let me dispel this myth.

i admit: after the shock of being treated the way i was at the church, my faith in God got a little shaky. it sure felt like we were being singled out for continual persecution and kicks in the crotch and if God has the power to stop all this and i keep begging him and begging him to do so, and then the people who are supposed to help me by ministering to me (even as i minister to teens) take a swift kick at my crotch, too… well, that certainly was difficult. since God didn’t stop it, then it must be God having fun kicking us around.

depression hit me pretty hard. self-doubt hit hard. questions and anger at God hit hard. i couldn’t believe that God would do this to me!

and the reality is: he didn’t.

another reality is: i can cry, moan, whine, beg, plead, be angry, scream and hold my breath until i’m blue in the face, but God didn’t set out to prove a point by torturing me or lise.

sometimes crap happens.

and i think that God gets too much of the credit and too much of the blame. i also think satan gets too much credit and blame as well.

so towards what, then, has my faith suffered?

God’s people.

i know, i know – it’s an unfair, blanket statement. but the shock of 17+ years of following Jesus and seeing God’s people treating others of God’s people with SO much disrespect (and then being on the receiving end in such a time of need) – this really put me over the top. it’s made it difficult for me to trust and even listen to Christians because i’m wondering what their motives really are. wondering what they’re really thinking.

jim snyder told me back in december as i was first dealing with what had happened: scott, we’re all broken sinners and we don’t play well in the sandbox together. it still seems too simplistic to me but i guess it’ll have to work.

in the last 2 weeks alone, two friends of mine who are also in ministry have been dealt with in similar (yet different) ways, the end result being their leaving the church/ministry. over the last 17 years, we’ve seen people in leadership get forced out over the silliest things. we’ve seen folks in the congregations we’ve been a part of get hurt (at the hands of leaders and/or other lay people) to the point of leaving and with no restoration of peace or fellowship. we’ve seen people get used and discarded. we’ve seen people who needed to be taken care of and ministered to get shunned and ignored.

and i can’t imagine that God sits back and says, “good work, folks! this is exactly what i was talking about when i sent my son to die for y’all! keep it up!”

am i guilty, too? definitely.

are there good and awesome things happening in the name of God? absolutely.

but right this minute, i can’t imagine going to a church and opening myself back up again, sharing my life with a group of people who i’ll wonder if i’m going to get hurt again. see, several older guys who’ve been in ministry a long time advised me that i shared too much – with the youth group and with the senior ministers. they advise me that i should have kept my mouth shut and just dealt with the things going on in our lives alone.

but i don’t think that’s what ministry’s about – ministry can’t be conducted in a vacuum. God works, leads, directs us through our lives and the everyday things, in part.

keep it to myself? hold it in? don’t share myself with the folks i minister to? keep it on the superficial? i’ve served under a minister who did just that. he’s a good teacher but his interpersonal skills and compassion (as well as leadership skills) are awful. he admits he doesn’t like dealing with people and would rather not be leading a church.

i’d rather not do ministry at all than to have to guard and shield myself from God’s followers.

my faith in God? rock solid. i don’t understand why all this is happening, but God’s not up there with levers and switches angling a big shoe at my crotch.

my faith in God’s people? shaky. will this improve? i hope so.

i may just have to invest in a good jockstrap before i get back into church.

the washington post has an interesting article regarding this issue.

i’ve considered doing this.

but then i think: why should the whole church be punished for the actions of a few?

i guess it’s difficult no matter what you do in church leadership, as you’re not just leading a flock of people, you’re also running a business. where does the “tending the sheep” end and the “business” begin? at what point does the responsibility for an individual’s spiritual and mental health end and the responsibility to the business-end (financial?) of the church pick up?

this is a crude caricature of one of my best friends, travis, otherwise known as t-bone. on this particular day that the caricature was drawn, t-bone was looking a lot like captain kangaroo.

travis and i met five long years ago at Cincinnati Christian University. it’s a rather funny story, but let’s cut to the chase, shall we?

travis is funny. i have been accused of being funny. together, we’re a bundle of inappropriate fun.

over the years, we’ve terrorized CCU proper and CCU faculty with such antics as going around the campus plastering the “every time you masturbate, God kills a kitten” pictures all over (on office doors, in place of peoples faces on pictures, in windows, under the Dean’s door, etc) and doing our Two-Headed Mr. Know-It-All routine (to the amazement and annoyance of all around) to pass the time. we also have swapped out and taught each others’ youth groups too many times to count, gotten our women together and been silly, eaten more indian food than is legally allowable in the state of ohio and we’ve plumbed the depths of urinals at rest stops in rural illinois. travis is my best friend and i love him to death. we have waay too much fun together.

but none of this has anything to do with why i’m blogging about him.

travis is one of the funniest people i know. he is able to do an imitation of Yoda that just makes me crack up (and more often than not, fall out of my chair in laughter and tears). not only does he do a killer Yoda, he is also able to do a very twisted version of Elmo. to make matters worse, he has the uncanny ability to imitate Yoda and Elmo together having a conversation and i must tell you that i’m laughing even now as i think about it.

it’s so bad that i was almost run over by a car in downtown st. louis because i was laughing so hard at one of his “conversations” – hahahaa…. oh. ok. stop laughing. breathe.

anyway, this Yoda “Got Milk” ad reminded me of him and as i told him at dinner tonight, i need to get it to him. what better way than by blogging about him?

as always, you can click on the pictures to see a bigger version of it. enjoy!

over the past couple months i’ve been trying to work a theory out on why christians treat each other as they do. why the backbiting? why the rude, accusatory way we treat each other? why the suspicion? why the doubt and questioning? why, especially, the lack of forgiveness (or even opportunity to attempt to make things right – achieve forgiveness and mend brokenness)?

is the answer really as simplistic as the fact that we’re all broken sinners living in a broken world?

aren’t we supposed to be set apart? aren’t we supposed to be models for the world-at-large of how forgiveness and restoration are achieved? are we not supposed to be mirroring to each other (and the world) the very thing that Jesus came and showed? that Paul explained further?

i realize that this may sound like a knee-jerk reaction to recent events but the truth is that it’s been in my mind since realizing my need for Jesus 17 years ago. in the 17 years since then, i’ve seen so many hurting people hurt other hurting people in the christian community and it disgusts me.

i’m certainly no saint and have done my share of the hurting (intentionally and not). upon realization of the hurting i’ve caused, i’m always needing to seek forgiveness – my conscience doesn’t allow me to let these things go without acknowledging my part in it. mending what was broken and being given the opportunity to make right, or at least attempting to, is crucial.

but having discussed this with several people whose grasp of Jesus seems stronger than mine, the overwhelming sentiment is that we’re sinners. broken. we don’t play well in the sandbox together.

one person said, “scott, you’re not REALLY surprised by all this!” “of course i am,” i replied. “no ” he said, “you’re just shocked because it’s your turn on the receiving end.”

we’re all just broken sinners?

seems like a copout.