Weaponizing Jesus

Thou Shalt Not …

I don’t know Mary Lindow, but I’d like to.

My Promise

I will be kind and generous with the words I use, no matter what the topic.

I’m not going to weaponize Jesus or the Bible. It’s so easy to do, and it is being done by a lot of people. Not me, please.

However, I will be frank, straight-forward and brave. I will speak out loud what I’m thinking and with no apology.

The Donald

I don’t like Donald Trump. That’s not a secret. And I’m going to write about President Trump. But I’m going to try to be fair and generous, rather that mean spirited and unkind. And trust me, I can be both.

If I cross the line, and I probably will, call me on it.

Wilderness Wanderings

I remember our son Josh taking a group of travelers into the Wilderness of Zin, the Negev in Israel (Desert). We sat down and he said something like this: “When you travel in this kind of environment you need company.”

I love that!

I’m going to raise questions around the Bible, a lot of questions. I’m going to express doubt about matters that will matter a great deal to some of you. You will want to leave. I can’t stop you, but I can urge you to engage with me instead.

We are losing our sons and daughters, and our grandchildren too. We are not losing them to God, not losing them to Jesus, but to the church. Partly, I think, because we don’t allow them to doubt or question or challenge the things that matter so much to so many of us. And this losing of our own beloved ones, is not their loss, it’s ours.

Isaac

I’m walking out of church. Nine-year-old Isaac is on his way in. He stops me. “Pastor Marlin?”

“Yes, Isaac.”

“If Adam and Eve had Cain and Abel, and they got married and had kids, then where did their wives come from?”

Isaac’s mother is standing there with this nervous look on her face. I’m not sure if she’s worried that I won’t like Isaac’s question or that she won’t like my answer.

I said, and I’m not lying, “You should ask Kara that question.” Kara is our Children’s Pastor. I know, coward, right?

What I wanted to say was, “Isaac, it’s a story, an important story, but Isaac, it’s a story.”

Now when I told this story during a sermon, many laughed, but some called out from the audience, “Yeah, good question. What’s the answer?” I smiled, but said nothing, because I’m not stupid. I know what’s not safe to say in church.

It’s a story. That’s the answer. But we don’t give that answer, and sooner or later our children grow up and they figure this out for themselves. Then, many of them walk away shaking their heads at our refusal to answer honestly even the most basic questions they have about the Bible or about Jesus.

Dangerous Places

I have a friend. He’s a scholar. He was asked by his pastor to teach a Wednesday night class. He said, “Sure.” First class, and he talked about the first eleven chapters of Genesis as myth. Three retired pastors were in the class. They went nuts. He addressed their concerns and questions without once raising his voice. The class loved it, or so they said.

One woman said, “That’s the best hour I’ve spent in church in 20 years. And by far the most entertaining.”

Two days later, his pastor called to say that the class had been cancelled.

Gotta be me!

So I’m not going to weaponize Jesus or the Bible.

But I am going to think out loud about stuff our children and grandchildren are silently thinking. I’m going to name the elephants in the middle of our Bible. The young won’t read this blog. I know that. But you who love them, you who weaned and raised them, you might. I hope you will. It’s important, I think.

A twelve-year-old girl went to church with her grandparents. At lunch she said she did not agree with something the pastor said. “I didn’t like it. I think he is wrong to say that.”

Her grandparents were flabbergasted. “Don’t say that honey. He was just preaching God’s Word.”

The girl’s mother said that her daughter fell silent. But I promise you she will not remain silent. One day she will voice her disagreement, or she won’t be allowed to, and she’ll quietly walk away

When I told that story in church, a twelve-year-old girl was sitting in the front row – no lie. Right after the service, she walked up to me and she said, “That’s me.” And walked away.