Ministry with the Marginalized

Last night, a close friend of mine told me about Rev. Cecil Williams and Glide Memorial United Methodist Church in San Francisco. He found about Williams and his unique church when he was doing some research on the life of rags-to-riches millionaire and entrepreneur Chris Gardner whose story is told in the 2006 film The Pursuit of Happyness. My friend noticed that while the film shows the shelter that helped Gardner and his son get on their feet when they were homeless, the film doesn’t focus much on telling the story of the shelter or the church attached to it (which is deserving of its own motion picture). My inquisitive friend wanted to know more about this place in downtown San Francisco that was ministering to the homeless and drawing such large crowds. He soon discovered the story of Glide Memorial Church and its reputation of being one of the most popular and eclectic congregations San Francisco has ever seen.

Over forty years ago, under the leadership of Rev. Cecil Williams, Glide Memorial Church- a middle-class, Caucasian, conservative congregation with 35 members- transformed into a diverse and welcoming community of thousands- a place where celebrities and the marginalized could both gather in fellowship. On any given Sunday, it is said that within 15 minutes the entire sanctuary is packed with drug addicts, hookers, corporate executives, gays, lesbians, trans-gendered people, feminists, the HIV/AIDS infected, hippies, Mexicans, Black Panthers, pagans, gothic types, Christians, Buddhists, and Muslims. Newspapers in San Francisco have even noted that the rock-star activist Bono makes it a priority to stop by Glide whenever he is in the city.

Obviously, we aren't dealing with the average church here. The only other time I’ve heard of such a rag-tag bunch of misfits coming together was when a carpenter’s son showed up on the scene in 1st century Palestine teaching, healing, blessing, inviting and embracing lepers, tax collectors, Gentiles, Samaritans, prostitutes, the blind, widows, zealots, fishermen, orphans and children. Such a radical message of inclusion was probably as shocking to the inhabitants of Galilee 2,000 years ago as Glide's message is shocking to us now in 21st Century North America.

Glide Memorial’s understanding of the Gospel is rooted in unconditional love, social action, justice, compassion, honoring diversity and standing with the marginalized. Because of this, Glide also functions as a homeless shelter where hundreds of volunteers come to feed thousands of people every day. Glide also provides recovery and drug rehab programs for those who need them. At Glide, the focus is on action. Glide doesn't focus on doctrinal statements and theological conformity but they do pride themselves on being a safe community where people can be honest, share their stories and find help and healing.

In a 2005 interview with Psychology Today, Rev. Cecil Williams said:

"Being seen as perfect, good or respectable is not my concern. My concern is to create an open and honest community where it is safe to tell the truth. That is what people of all races and classes want today. Whether they're executives or homeless people, all people want to know: Who will care about me? Where can I go to tell my story and be myself?"

Glide Memorial's approach to ministry has served as a model for many United Methodist Churches across the country who are seeking ways to minister to their surrounding communities. In a 2000 interview with the San Francisco Examiner, Williams spoke out about what he saw as the Methodist Church’s misplaced priorities:

“What disturbs me about the Methodist Church is that it's so middle class. It may have big steeples, but they've lost the soul of the Gospel. I think the Methodist Church is so caught up in policies. It's not policies. It's practice. That's what we do."

But while the Glide community focuses on action, its preachers still seek insights from the Bible. Like many churches, Glide hosts regular Bible studies and worship services. However, unlike many churches, Glide takes a non-literal approach to the Scriptures and focuses more on helping their members and visitors find meaning by identifying with and relating their own experiences to the Bible’s stories. The Glide community also knows how to worship. Glide’s worship services are said to be more like “celebrations” where members experience improvisational jazz and blues, poetry readings, community theatre and a whole lot of hugging.

I’ve read several interviews featuring Cecil Williams since I talked to my friend. From what I’ve read so far, I can definitely say that Williams is a radical dude. Admittedly, his approach to the Bible and his theology of liberation would probably frighten most orthodox Christians. In 1964, Williams created the Council on Religion and Homosexuality and was among the first ministers- African-American or otherwise- to publicly champion gay and lesbian rights. Then in 1967, Williams shocked many when he challenged his congregation to “celebrate life and living” instead of death by demanding the cross be removed from inside the sanctuary.

Like I said, the dude is radical. But one has to wonder: If we who claim to be followers of Jesus find Glide Memorial's example to be too radical, then how would we have responded to Jesus’ ministry had we lived in 1st century Galilee? Could it be that Glide's approach is closer and more faithful to what Jesus meant by the "good news" and "the kingdom of God"?

On a more personal note, I began to wonder why Rev. Cecil Williams and his church intrigued me so. Perhaps it is because Glide's way of living out the Gospel reminds me of my mother’s approach to people. After I began reading about the Glide community I called my mom and asked if she had heard about them since she lived in San Francisco for a few years before I was born in 1978. She claimed she never heard of Glide because she wasn’t into church back then. But when she went to their web site and found out more about them she said “Man, that place sounds like my kind of crowd!”

You see, I have what I call “a new-age mom.” She has faith in God and has attended various churches throughout her life, but she is an avid reader who remains open to different perspectives. This is a quality that she has instilled in me as well. Throughout my mother’s life she has been classified among those that society would cast out and I think this intuitively drives her to reach out to other people who feel cast out themselves. She has been rejected by most of her relatives because she was mixed (Black and Italian), she has battled addictions, she has endured sexual abuse as a teenager, she has witnessed the effects of alcoholism and domestic violence throughout her childhood, she has survived on the streets and she has been homeless. Yet I’ve also seen her do a lot of the things the Glide community does for people. I have seen her sit at the bedsides of her gay male friends who were dying from AIDS when their own families wouldn’t visit them. I have also seen my mom befriend an old immigrant lady who lived next door who didn't trust Blacks until she got to know my mother.

Whenever my mom would pick me up on weekends, I would see the wide variety of people she maintained close friendships with: foreigners, gays, rape victims, drunks, drug addicts, drug dealers, the elderly and the mentally ill. She taught me the unforgettable lesson that these people were human too. My mother never turned anyone away and she never felt like she was better than anybody else. Her approach to people has largely informed my ideas about what it means to show mercy and hospitality to the outcasts of society and for that I am thankful. I pray I can show that kind of love to people. I've got a long way to go.

But if I’m ever in San Francisco, I plan to check out Glide Memorial Church. Find out more about this community at http://www.glide.org/.

People need hope and meaning (and so do I)

Recently I enjoyed a long conversation with a cousin and long-time friend of mine who I have been estranged from for the past five years (that’s another story). We spoke for hours about our dreams, our life choices, our careers and our faith journeys. While discussing faith, we talked about the new ways we have learned to read and approach the Bible and the different theological paths we have taken based on that approach. It was comforting to share our common questions, concerns, confusions and understandings about the Scriptures. At this point, my old friend warned me, “Now, have you thought about how your new approach to the Bible might affect those who are close to you?” I was stunned for a moment and then I nodded slowly. He continued, “I don’t know how far you’ve gone already but if you go further down this path things will probably start to make a lot more sense to you- and you may even feel closer to where Jesus was- but at the same time, the things you are learning and embracing probably won’t make much sense to a lot of your church members.” I sat silently in order to soak in what he said. I eventually replied, “Yeah, I’ve thought about it and the idea of being rejected because of my beliefs scares the hell out of me…But I feel like I’m on to something.” Seek and we shall find, right?

We then talked about those Christian pastors who pursue higher education and learn a lot of interesting and progressive theology but who decide to set aside those ideas when they are ministering to their congregations. Now keep in mind, I’m not seeking to be a pastor, but I knew what he was getting at. It’s the same question that my financial advisor (who practices Islam) brought to me a month ago when he heard I was attending seminary. His question was, “What are you going to do when your personal theology no longer matches up with the beliefs of the masses- especially your fellow church members?”

What do you do, indeed? I’ve heard it said before that we don’t have to think alike to love alike. While I think churches, families and communities should be united in love and respect for each other, I think it is unrealistic to expect any group of humans to be totally united in thought. Perhaps we can agree on some things we believe to be central, but not all things. Why? Because, as different as we humans are, I don’t think it is possible to get two people (if they are honest) to fully embrace the same opinions and thoughts on every spiritual, theological, and socio-political issue. I think when people have the expectation of coming to total agreement on every issue someone ends up silencing themselves or compromising what they believe to be true in order to maintain the appearance of unity.

I don’t want to be unloving towards others, but I also don’t want to compromise what I think is true. I also don’t think others need to compromise what they believe to be true in order to accommodate me.

But back to the question at hand: What do you do when your personal theology differs from the theology of your congregation? I recently posed this question to Marti Steussy, one of my seminary professors in whose counsel I trust. Her advice dealt with “respecting people's need for hope and meaning.” She sent me an e-mail that said, “When it comes to truth, human beings are more concerned about the kind of truth that will help them live with hope and a sense of meaning than they are about facts.” She said that I need to always “understand what's at stake” and to “invite people to talk honestly” about an issue where they aren’t just “rehearsing rationalizations.” She also warned me that if I am “going to challenge something” then I need to “do it for a constructive reason” and that I should “have something to offer that builds up.” She explained, “If you give people something that will increase their hope and sense of being able to do something meaningful in life, they can accept it in a way they just won't if they think all you are doing is tearing things down.” She also said that “if the Bible is involved, try to raise the questions out of the biblical material itself” and that it is often more effective to “appeal to common wisdom… that connects with most people” instead of using a lot of intellectual and theological terms that will only leave people looking “glassy-eyed.” She concluded with an allusion to 1 Corinthians 13 advising me to “Love folks and care about them.”

I thought Marti’s advice was helpful and faithful to the teachings and example of Jesus. People don’t need to worship false idols and faulty ideas, but they do need hope and meaning in order to function. I have to respect that. I must admit that I am uncomfortable with the idea of learning something I believe to be true and valuable and then being expected to dismiss it because the people around me don’t agree. However, I think there are times when it is wise to hold back certain information when it appears that it may threaten someone else’s most cherished ideas about God and the Bible. Perhaps in loving people we learn the wisdom that will help us to know how to use our knowledge and when it is most appropriate to share it.

Ultimately, I believe that there will come times when individuals will need to show integrity and hold firm to their personal convictions despite what the majority says. And I think that wisdom is required to discern such times. But I don’t think we have to totally agree with each other in order to love each other. The Gospels say that Jesus wanted his followers to be united in love, but I don’t recall Jesus ever commanding us to be uniform in our thought.

I admit that it is much easier to love and spend time with those we agree with theologically because it is difficult and uncomfortable to love and spend time with those who we disagree with on such deeply held beliefs. But Jesus didn’t give us an easy or convenient gospel, did he? Instead, he calls us to live in a way that will continually challenge and transform us. And sometimes that transformation is painful.

Some "Soul" Music that Touched Me

A few weeks ago, while I was in the seminary library finishing up one of my term papers, I took a break to chat about music with one of my seminary classmates who works in the library, a Puerto-Rican-born youth minister named Marcos. Marcos and I had lunch and then headed across the street to his dorm room to listen to and talk about the different kinds of Latin and Afro-Caribbean Music. Marcos played samples of almost every style of Latin music while we tried to figure out how a listener could distinguish between the sounds of Salsa, Rumba, Flamenco, Merengue, Reggaeton, Tejano and Bachata (I think we finally broke it down to a workable science). We then talked briefly about R & B Soul music. I was surprised to hear that one of Marcos’ favorite soul artists is John Legend, a relatively new guy on the R&B scene. I’ve never been a big fan of Legend, but on my way out the door Marcos handed me his copy of Legend’s latest CD, Once Again. I accepted it reluctantly, not knowing what to expect. Nevertheless, I promised to listen to it and return it.

I have to admit that the CD sat in my Jeep’s disc player for over two weeks before I decided to give it a fair listen yesterday while I drove across town. I wasn’t too impressed with the CD until my ear caught a line from his song, Show Me, where he sings:

"I need a sign, something I can see
Why all the mystery?
I try not to fall for make believe
But what is reality?..."

Upon hearing that line, I thought: "Whoa! This dude sounds like he's talking to God right here." I started the song over again and this time I listened intently. Upon second listen I realized that the words of this song deal with questions that people ask when they are trying to make sense out of the reality they see and the personal God they have been taught to believe in. In this song, Legend has a late-night conversation with the God that he feels disconnected from, who is also the God that he feels the need to question. Line after line, Legend's lyrics described where I am right now in my faith journey.

Legend describes the state of being disconnected with God with lines like:

"I realized as I lay down to sleep
We haven’t spoke in weeks…"

He also addresses the human hope for a sign of divine confirmation with lines like:

"Show me the light...Show me the way
Show that you’re listening...
Show me that you love me
Show me that you walk with me…"

Legend then addresses the age-old skepticism about the extent of God's power, love and control in a world full of pain with the following lyrics:

"I can't stop questioning...
O God of love, peace, and mercy
Why so much suffering?
I pray for the world, it gets worse to me
Wonder if you’re listening…"

He raises the question why some people die while others survive:

"When people go...Why do they go?
Why don’t you choose me?..."

Legend closes the song with a commitment to live life to the fullest instead of being paralyzed by fear and despair:

"Maybe we’ll talk...some other night
Right now I’ll take it easy
Won’t spend my time...waiting to die
Enjoy the life I’m living…"

What shocks me most is how deeply John Legend's words resonated with me at this time in my life, especially since he is not someone I would normally listen to. I continue to be amazed by how some things in life seem to be so “on-time" in the midst of all that seems to be so random. Occurances like this renew my faith that there seems to be something guiding my experiences.

Sometimes I wake up not believing

I’ve been heavily involved in church for several years and have studied religion for over a decade but, honestly, there are some mornings I wake up not believing anymore. It’s not that I don’t believe in a Creator, it’s just that sometimes I get really skeptical about our traditional religious ideas. Sometimes my first thought is, is all of this religious stuff real? Sometimes it all seems ridiculous. What’s the point? Is religion just something humans invented to help us cope with the inevitability of suffering and death? Is “the will of God” just something our creative human minds imagined so we could function with a sense of purpose, hope and meaning? Is prayer really just a form of wishful thinking or a grown-up way to say that we are talking to our “imaginary friend”? What makes us think we can capture the idea of God in human language anyway?

How do we know if God is pleased with us? How do we know if God has been merciful to us? How would we know if God has forgiven us? What evidence could we point to? Do we believe this because we’re still alive when we could have been dead? Do we believe this because something worked out in our favor when it could have failed? Do we believe this because we weren’t involved in a fatal accident? What about those who have died in such accidents? Was God no longer showing mercy to them? Was God not pleased with them? Did their lives no longer have any purpose?

We religious people accept most of these ideas off of faith alone. But it seems to me that we could come up with a lot of other reasons to explain our earthly circumstances and situations.

I often hear people talk about what they believe God is telling them or calling them to do. Is this use of God’s name just a technique to justify what we plan to do anyway? I mean really. Although I have said such things in the past, I really try to avoid making such claims because I know how easy it is to deceive ourselves.

I also hear people quote scriptures and utter pious statements that say God is more concerned with our eternal souls than our earthly lives. In my opinion, such reasoning enables people to justify their apathy and tolerate severe injustice and destruction of life. I don’t believe in that kind of God. I hear people declare with tears that those who don’t have the “right” beliefs are going to Hell. I’ve heard people, upon hearing that someone died, say things like, “Man, I sure hope they were Christians.” When these individuals hear that a non-Christian has died, you may hear things like, “Man, too bad they are going to Hell.” I don’t believe in this kind of God. And what business do humans have making calls as to another human's eternal destination? I struggle with the idea that our earthly life just a testing ground to screen the faithful from the wicked so that we can all go on to an afterlife to collect either our rewards or our punishments.

I also despise the fact that some people are so committed to the exclusive claims of their religious traditions that they are willing to persecute, discriminate against or kill people of other faiths and cultures in order to prove their beliefs and customs are the only ones that are pleasing to God. I don’t believe in a God that would be pleased with that. I also don't believe in a tribal and territorial God who takes sides in human conflicts and calls for the destruction or killing of any human. I can't help but think that many of our traditional ideas about God and God's requirements of persons have been shaped more by our cultural prejudices than by divine encounter.

I realize that I, like many others, possess my own mental image of what God is like. Yet, in the back of my mind, I retain the belief that God is beyond our understanding. Because of this, I remain suspicious of any human attempts to totally grasp God’s will or predict God’s activities. But I often I wonder where this leaves me as an aspiring follower of Jesus' way of living. Some may judge my views as being either “wishy-washy” or “foolish” but I’d like to believe that mine is an attempt to be humble when it comes to ideas about God, one that remains open to different understandings and willing to acknowledge that we could be wrong about all of this.

Yes. Some mornings I wake up not believing. Then those mornings pass by and I muster up enough faith to keep going until the next morning comes.

The Quiet

"All travelers, somewhere along the way, find it necessary to check their course, to see how they are doing. We wait until we are sick, or shocked into stillness, before we do the commonplace thing of getting our bearings. And yet, we wonder why we are depressed, why we are unhappy, why we lose our friends, why we are ill-tempered... Who knows? God may whisper to you in the quietness what He has been trying to say to you, oh, for so long a time."
- Howard Thurman, Deep Is the Hunger

I came across this quote from the late Christian mystic and civil-rights activist Howard Thurman today and it spoke to where I am right now in my life. It led me to ask myself: When was the last time I got quiet?

Jesus said that we could know the truth about people by looking at the fruits they are producing in their lives. Well, right now, I’m not satisfied with a lot of the fruit that I've been producing in my life. It is obvious to me that I have not been producing the fruit that comes from spending quiet time in focused meditation and prayer. I find myself overwhelmed by the thought of having too many people to pray for and too many concerns to pray about and ponder upon. I haven’t really prayed as long or as deeply as I would like to, so a lot of things worth praying for have slipped my mind. I’ve also noticed that I have put down many of my talents, gifts and abilities and have not tried to pick them back up. Don’t get me wrong…I've been getting above average grades and I have been doing a lot of studying, but I haven't done enough resting or reflecting. Ironically, while most of the books I am interested in reading are about people’s first-hand experiences and understandings of God, I find that I don’t like to set aside time to seek those experiences for myself. Many of my prayers come in the form of quick thoughts that I fire off while I am distracted by a host of other concerns and priorities. I think a lot, but I haven't been setting aside enough time in quiet solitude to practice mindfulness and increase my awareness so that I can feel deeply. I don’t feel deeply enough the Spirit of God. I don’t feel deeply enough the emotions of others.

Because of this, I have noticed my tendency to widen the distance between myself and my friends. These days, it seems I’d rather be left alone. Nowadays, it takes a lot of energy for me to be around a lot of people, especially those close to me. My friends call me but I only call back when I feel like it, which is rarely. If it wasn’t for my wife’s suggestions that I call certain friends to check on them, I wouldn’t have called them at all. What kind of friend does that make me? I keep a lot of my personal opinions and controversial views to myself for the sake of harmony, but I have grown weary knowing that people barely know me because I only reveal a small percentage of my true self to them. I see that many of my close relationships are suffering because I have grown bitter, resentful, angry and irritated due to bottling up so much of what I want to say for fear of being criticized, rejected, or accused of being a heretic. Maybe I’m frustrated by the fact that humans can’t read minds (that would make it so much easier to communicate). In many ways I feel frustrated and depressed. Maybe I need to get quiet.

It seems that at every waking moment I am in a constant and restless frenzy to fill my mind with noise and information. I can't drive to work without listening to the radio; I can't take a shower without fretting over an anxiety; I can't use the bathroom without having a book or article in my hands; I can't eat my lunch unless I'm making progress on whatever book I'm reading; I can't lay down to sleep at night without reaching for a dictionary or a book of poetry; I can’t sit down on my couch without reaching for the remote or playing on my guitar; I can't concentrate at my job because I'm constantly distracted by incoming e-mails, phone calls and my own tendencies to surf the Internet. It's like my mind can't be still. Even when I do find some quiet time, I immediately start looking for an activity to fill it with. It's almost like I fear being alone with just my thoughts.

A couple of weeks ago I did manage to find some quiet time. After I got off work and before I went to my Thursday evening seminary class, I spent ten minutes sitting outside near the forest behind the seminary I attend. I just sat there to watch and listen. I began pondering a theological question at first, but then I shifted my focus to observe the natural world all around me. I felt like something was drawing me to watch, listen and feel. I sat there breathing in the air that smelled like oncoming rain. I sat there letting my skin absorb the wave-like gusts of the invisible breeze. I sat there trying to listen to the bird songs that competed with the hum, hiss and rumble of airplanes soaring in the sky and cars moving through the streets. I sat there trying to hear how many different bird calls I could distinguish. I sat there pretending those bird rhythms were actually different pieces of a diverse orchestra working together to communicate a song to whoever would surrender their moments to hear it. I sat there attempting to calm my restless mind by looking at the vivid spring-time green of the trees. Ten minutes later, as I got up from my seat, I could feel a current of relaxation and peace coursing through my deepest places.

Ever since that moment, I have yearned for that peace again. When will I experience that calm? I need to get quiet again. What else might I find in those quiet places? Might I find that clarity of purpose that I am looking for? Might I find the One who birthed those purposes in me?

Book Review- On Job: God-Talk and the Suffering of the Innocent by Gustavo Gutierrez

Gustavo Gutiérrez is an expert at reading Biblical texts from the viewpoint of the underprivileged. He is a Peruvian theologian, a Dominican priest and a key innovator of Latin American Liberation Theology. He once said,

“You do theology differently when your stomach is full than when it is empty.”

In his book, On Job: God-talk and the Suffering of the Innocent, he tries to discover the meaning of the Book of Job and how it can contribute to both how we talk about God and how we approach the reality of human suffering, in particularly, the suffering of the innocent.

Gutiérrez shows readers how Job's experiences gradually cause him to doubt the theory of retribution and to evolve in his understanding of God's freedom, love, justice and gratuitousness. Gutiérrez helps us to understand how difficult it is to talk about God when the innocent suffer and how empty theology sounds when it refuses to speak from the harsh realities of life. Gutiérrez incorporates the works of various scholars, priests, playwrights, teachers, theologians and Latin American poets to help readers understand his approach to the topic. Gutiérrez believes that Job's suffering has made him more conscious of other innocent sufferers. Gutiérrez also insists that God's justice can only be understood in the light of God's gratuitousness.

Gutiérrez declares that those who suffer and talk (or complain) about God with honesty may actually be more pleasing to God than those who, like Job's friends, worship and obey God out of self-interested hope of reward or fear of punishment. Gutiérrez insists that abstract talk of God and his love is not profitable unless it speaks from an honest and deep consideration of the most desperate of human conditions and a deep contemplation of the plan, justice and gratuitousness of God.

From the outset, Gutiérrez informs readers that his approach is rooted in his experience with the social injustices he has witnessed in Latin America and that his goal is to find in the Book of Job insights, answers and approaches that will help us to "speak well of God" in the face of the harsh realities of life. I think that Gutiérrez has succeeded in his goal.

I commend Gutiérrez for taking on the challenge of one of the Bible's most difficult texts, especially one that deals with the hardest of human questions: Why do the innocent suffer? Amazingly, Gutiérrez has taken on the challenge and provides readers with a brief, detailed, clear, thorough and concise book. I also commend Gutiérrez on his extensive research and his knowledge of the many points of interpretation which theologians have long debated in regards to the Book of Job. Gutiérrez also shows courage in his opposition to many of these traditional interpretations.

Since reading this book, I have learned that the self-interested religion of Job's friends is not true faith, but is instead a subtle form of idolatry in which God becomes a predictable toy controlled by human behavior. Gutiérrez helped me to see the humanity of the author of the Book of Job and how I believe the Spirit of God worked through them to create a work of art that manages to ask the hard questions about God, faith and the harsh realities of life. Gutiérrez has helped me to see the Book of Job as a work of art that does not settle for quick and easy answers about the universal human experience but instead raises uncomfortable questions that, when asked, may open people's hearts for deeper experiences with the true God.

Gutiérrez has convinced me of the importance of honest prayer and contemplation of God and that to truly understand God's justice one must understand God's gratuitousness. I would recommend this book to anyone who has questioned God's goodness in the face of human suffering. I would also recommend this book to bible study teachers (it would make for great study and discussion), seminary students, pastors, ministers, pastoral counselors, social workers, and those who seek justice for "the least of these."

Salespeople & the Great Commission

I’ve never been a good salesperson. Allow me to explain. I’ve sold used appliances at a Sears outlet while I was in college and I was helpful to my customers and all, but I didn’t do well when it came to getting people to buy something they didn’t set out to buy (a maintenance agreement, for example). The thing is…I don’t like putting other people in that kind of situation because I hate those situations where it feels like someone is trying to pressure me into buying something that I hadn’t planned to buy. I hate being solicited. I've had times when a salesperson comes to my house unnannounced and I invite them in only to engage in a seemingly friendly conversation in which they are gathering clues about me that will help them make the sale. They use persuasion tactics in which they describe your problems and offer their product as the solution, using slick techniques that back you into a corner where it looks like the only wise decision for you and your family is to buy what they are selling. That really irritates me.

All of this irritates me mainly because when people talk to you in this “sales” mode they don’t seem like they are truly concerned about you or your needs. Instead, they seem to be talking to you as a means to an end, or some desired result (more business, more money, more sales, more commission, etc.). Matter of fact, when people get into this "sales" mode they don't even seem human anymore. Their voice changes and so does the look in their eye. In their calculating glances, you have now become a potential customer (or convert). I also see this happen a lot in religion especially when the issue of conversion comes up.

Throughout my life I have been approached both by people belonging to the Nation of Islam and by people belonging to various Christian denominations who have evangelized to me by using “friendly conversation” as a means to convert me to their belief system. The fact that this happens makes me reflect on those people that join a religious tradition because it is promoted as a product to buy instead of being attracted to a religion because they are seeing people’s lives being transformed by it. Hey, show me a humble servant who is living a transformed life with sincerity and integrity and you've got my attention; but if you approach me like a "spiritual salesperson" you will piss me off.

Let me speak about my own faith for a second. I consider myself a Christian, a follower of God in the way of Jesus. And to be honest, I might not be a Christian had someone not pulled me to the side and talked to me about Jesus and salvation when I was younger. I suppose God works in mysterious ways. But in recent years, I have come to question a lot of what tradition has taught us about what it means to follow Jesus and what it means to have salvation. I wonder if we have distorted Jesus' message and mission over the centuries. For example, were followers of Jesus supposed to be salespeople or servants? Were we assigned to go out and "win souls" or were we sent out to help people live in ways that glorify the God that Jesus talked about? Were we supposed to get souls into heaven or were we supposed to live out the values of the kingdom of God and teach others to do the same? From what I read in the Gospels, Jesus told his disciples (students) to go forth spreading the “good news,” healing the sick, casting out demons, blessing others, and making and baptizing disciples of all nations (more students) who would be taught to obey the commands that Jesus gave them. And come to think of it, wasn’t Jesus’ greatest command for us to love God with our entire being and to love our neighbors and enemies as much as we love ourselves?

I fear that much evangelism leans more toward what I call a "password theology," the belief that only those who know the proper passwords have access to God. We seem to focus more on getting people to say the right thing instead of showing them how to do the right thing (and I say this realizing that many good-hearted people may disagree as to what the "right thing" would be). I believe that people should be motivated to join a religious tradition because they see transformed lives and feel sincere love, not because they were manipulated by threats and/or sales techniques.

What is my credo?

I have just finished another exciting semester of seminary where I am studying theology. I just completed a course on the relationship between religion and science. In the few courses I have taken thus far, I have discovered new perspectives that have challenged the embedded assumptions of my own theology and expanded my understanding of how the Spirit of God might be operating in the universe.

This past week, I took some paid time off from my day-job so that I could finish writing my final research papers. When I wasn’t writing, I was spending a lot of time talking and laughing with my some of my fellow seminarians who are in different degree programs. I kept hearing them talk about finishing their “credos” for their systematic theology courses. I haven’t taken a systematic theology course yet, but from what I understand, a credo, like a “creed”, is a statement of one’s beliefs. In these credos, my classmates were asked to fill 30 double-spaced pages with their beliefs concerning God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Bible, the gospel, sin, the future, and the Church. I am sure this is not an easy task. But it made me wonder what my personal credo would be. How would I explain my beliefs about those subjects?

I know many churches give their members a statement of faith that lists that particular church's core beliefs. But how many of those statements do the members really believe? What really matters in regards to their faith? If some members don't agree with all of the statements, does that diminish their desire to seek God and follow the way of Jesus? Should churches expect people to just swallow all of these claims without giving them space and time to examine, question and even reject some of them?

I can't help but wonder: Did Jesus ask his disciples (students) to sign a statement of faith before they joined him? No. He just extended an invitation to them saying, "Follow me." It seems that Jesus was more concerned that his followers had a close relationship with God and himself than he was that they have all the right theological answers. Plus, no matter what faith claims we make, our behaviors will reveal our true beliefs anyway.

Although I am hesitant about stating a belief that may change based on future understandings and experiences, I thought I should try to write my own credo. At least a short one, for now. I will give this a shot even though I realize how easy it is for us to put God and other people in boxes and categories that suit our understandings. We categorize them because it helps us to make sense out of the world around us. I understand that and I don’t think we can help it. Some neuroscientists would say that our brain is hard-wired in such a way that it demands we try to find clarity when we are confused.

But nevertheless, I wanted to give it a try, knowing that most of this could change over time (and I am actually curious to see if and how it will change over time). I think our theologies (ideas about God) should remain somewhat flexible lest we think we have conquered God and understood God’s Spirit, being and intentions completely. I personally don’t think we humans are capable of such a thing.

So here it is. My statement of faith, as of today:

God: I believe there is a God but I still have many questions. My faith is grounded in reflecting on and praying to the everlasting, ever-creative and ever-surprising Spirit of God for blessing, guidance, inspiration, provision and forgiveness.

Jesus: Even though I often fall short, I strive to become a follower of God in the way of Jesus by allowing my life to be challenged and transformed by his teachings and example.

Scriptures: While I take seriously the stories, testimonies, wisdom, insights, and theologies that are found in the Hebrew Bible and the Christian Scriptures, I believe the Spirit of God is also known in acts of love and words of truth. Therefore, I am open to the various ways in which love and truth are revealed and manifested in the world- be it through nature, science, or other religions and faith traditions. I also try to be receptive and open to the mysterious ways in which the Spirit of God might be communicating to us in our modern times.

Evil: I think that evil forces exist in our world; however I think we humans are often our own worse enemies. Nowadays, I have little use for ideas about devils and demons being the sources of evil. I think the human heart is fully capable of imagining and committing vicious acts towards ourselves and others without the help of an "enemy of God" or a "devil". I understand "Satan/the devil" as a way to personify the fact that humans have dark sides to our gifts of imagination and free will that often rebel against the good tendencies that we are also capable of.

Purpose: I find purpose in wrestling with my personal questions and figuring the rest out as I go along. In the meantime, I try to live out my faith in actions of love and faithfulness. I am sustained in my journey by the faith that a creative, mysterious, loving force is inviting me and guiding me towards love, truth, reconciliation, transformation and blessing.

Why am I writing this?

Hello,
I am an artist with a voice that I have kept silent for too long. I am an aspiring editorial cartoonist, writer, poet, musician and seminary student trying to find my way. I am finally starting this online journal after being prodded by caring mentors and close friends who have suggested that I start writing down my thoughts, insights, reflections and questions about life, faith, mystery, meaning, and reality.

Here, you will find my artwork and poetry, my reflections on faith, my opinions on current events, my reviews of things I've experienced, and my interviews with people I find interesting.

I don't know if anyone will ever find this, read this or appreciate this, but I am largely writing this for myself and my own sanity...a practical way to work things out in my mind and relieve the tensions in my heart. I only hope that if you have found your way here that you might be able to take away something that will prove useful for your own personal journey.

So, with that said, this is just the beginning. This is new territory for me and I am feeling my way through alot of this. I am eager to see what I discover about the universe around me and within me.

Please feel free to share your comments and thoughts.