Archive for the ‘Columns’ Category

Intelligent Design Makes a Mockery of Science

Sunday, October 22nd, 2006

Intelligent design: Making a mockery of science

By Christian Piatt

(This column originally appeared in the Pueblo Chieftain newspaper)

I listened to a sermon series on intelligent design recently. The minister went through the many sophisticated organs, cells and systems within the human body, and after each example, he pulled out a coin. He went from cellular mitochondria to the visual cortex, pointing out each time how unlikely this system was to occur by accident. Each point was punctuated by another coin.

Many systems within the body are built upon preceding ones, and conditions had to be just right for us to become what we are, he pointed out. By the end, he had fifteen coins laid out on the lectern. The odds of flipping those fifteen coins and having them all land heads-up was about one in thirty-three thousand. How much more unlikely, then, are we to be here?

That depends. If you believe in infinite time and space, then you have to accept the concept of infinite probability. Given time and space without boundary, it’s reasonable to expect that everything that can happen ultimately will. This would include earth, humans, and other forms of intelligent life.

At this point, we can’t say how big or old the universe is, any more than we can claim whether or not this is the only universe there is.  For all we know, there are millions of other universes that existed before ours, or maybe they even exist in parallel to ours right now. If time has a beginning and an end, or that there are limits to the boundaries of the universe, our existence becomes less likely the product of random chance.

Asking ‘What are the odds?’ alone doesn’t really bother me, although I think it’s a weak argument for the existence of a Creator. But this same argument is the cornerstone of many proponents of teaching intelligent design in our schools, as an alternative to evolution.

There’s one big difference between evolution and intelligent design: the former is science and the latter isn’t. For an idea to be part of the scientific body of thought, you first have to develop a hypothesis and test it using scientifically recognized processes. If your findings support your initial hypothesis, you share your findings with the rest of the scientific community and allow them to try to replicate your results.

Over time, if your hypothesis continues to be supported, it becomes a theory. If evidence arises later that challenges the theory, it’s either changed or discarded. There’s no such thing as a scientific absolute. We only have theories waiting to be disproved.

Some may cry foul, claiming that intelligent design can’t be tested like this. After all, if we can’t prove the existence of God, how can we prove that any of the resultant byproducts are of God’s hands?

That’s why intelligent design isn’t science.

Although I believe personally that God created the universe, I don’t confuse my beliefs with the human-conceived scientific system. There are places in school for discussions such as these, including philosophy and comparative religion classes. I also think each family can impart their beliefs to their children, both at home and at church. But to cloud our understanding of what science is, promoting a religious agenda under the thin veil of scholarship, threatens to contaminate both science and faith.

Some scientists are guilty of making a religion of science. They confuse theory with fact and proclaim the human intellect as the prevailing standard by which all things must solely be measured.

Aristotle, the father of modern science, wisely recognized the limits of science and logic. Thomas Aquinas later claimed that this point where logic breaks down is where faith helps complete the picture.

The difference is that both Aristotle and Aquinas knew not to confuse faith and logic, and both understood the limits of each. The current creation-versus-evolution debate suggests that we haven’t evolved toward a greater truth in the meantime.

(Christian Piatt’s new book, “Lost: A Search for Meaning,” is available for pre-order at most online bookstores now.)

How much faith does it take to be an atheist?

Saturday, October 14th, 2006

How much faith does it take to be an atheist?

By Christian Piatt

Originally printed in the Pueblo Chieftain Newspaper

I love National Public Radio. I might as well wear a scarlet “N” because I’m such an NPR nerd.

Every Friday, the show, Talk of the Nation, does a “Science Friday” special. This week, they interviewed Richard Dawkins, who is an evolutionary biologist, an atheist, and author of the book, The God Delusion. He is articulate and moderated in his comments. However, he’s unequivocal about his belief that God does not exist.

A caller made an interesting point about atheism, suggesting it takes more faith to be an atheist than it does to believe in God.

He said that you must be willing to depend completely on your own human experience and intellect to categorically reject even the possibility of the existence of God within a potentially infinite universe. Basically, you have to have faith that, in our inestimable smallness and relatively subjective experience, we have enough information to claim God could not exist, even beyond our sphere of understanding.

Dawkins labeled this as a specious argument, pointing out that there are plenty of other things most people don’t believe in, including fairies, Thor, and the Flying Spaghetti Monster (look it up online – I’m not making it up). However, it is only in claiming a disbelief in God that one is branded as arrogant or bitter. We disbelieve any number of things, so why should God be any different?

So there I was with two compelling but opposing arguments, left to sort out what I thought on my own.  But the more I thought about Dawkins’ position, the more I took issue with it.

First, one distinct difference between belief in fairies and belief in God is a matter of numbers. There may be a few people who claim that fairies exist, but of the six and a half billion people on the planet, it is estimated that between five and six billion claim to have faith in God.

This is not a matter of majority rule; just because most people believe something doesn’t make it right. However, when a vast majority of the human species claims a common belief in a Creator, it places more of a burden on those who seek to confront the majority opinion. Faith is, by definition, not based in reason. However, those who deny God’s existence are depending on reason for their position. This places the burden of proof on the atheist.

Second, there’s a unique characteristic about the popular understanding of God that sets God apart from other mythical beings. While people may believe in anything from aliens to ghosts, the general consensus is that God is the source of all creation. Therefore nothing else that we could argue could have more of an impact on our worldview, our values and understanding of who we are than the existence of God.

To compare the question of God’s existence to that of fairies or characters popularized by the internet is to diminish the relative place of God within our cultural anthropology.

I don’t want to discourage discussions about the existence of God. However, it always should be approached with the reverence and gravity it deserves, even by self-proclaimed atheists. We should all have the opportunity to grow and be enriched from one another’s understanding of the universe.

I’m guessing most atheists have something to teach me, but in order to sit at the same table, we all should be willing to take something away from the conversation, other than what we brought with us.

School shootings: We ask why, but seek peace

Sunday, October 8th, 2006

School shootings: We ask why, but need peace

By Christian Piatt

 (Originally printed in the Pueblo Chieftain newspaper)

On Monday, Charles Carl Roberts entered a peaceful one-room Amish schoolhouse with the intention of slaughtering all of its young female occupants, as well as himself. As of Monday afternoon, four children, a young teaching assistant and the attacker all were dead, with five more still in critical condition.

In a call to his wife, and in notes he scribbled out prior to the attack, Roberts evidently was acting on some two-decade-old grudge, seeking revenge for some injustice he suffered some time back. Reports reveal that Roberts may have had a history of sexually abusing children.

Roberts was not Amish, and seems to have no particular connection with the community or the school he attacked. It is thought that his choice of targets was based more upon convenience.

This is the third attack in a school setting in a little more than week, and the whole string of incidents smacks of the Columbine shooting, which occurred in Denver several years ago. My wife, Amy, was a youth minister in Denver at the time, and one of her girls was a friend of the shooters. She spent weeks counseling the girl, her family, and others who were less directly affected, yet impacted nonetheless.

The first question that most people begin with has something to do with why such a senseless, violent event has to take place. How does the human mind end up accommodating such diabolical notions? How divorced from one’s divine spirit must one become to even consider the murder of children? How does someone so young, with so much ahead of them, determine that their time on earth is complete, to be cut short by their own hand?

I’ve found that there are no satisfactory answers in cases such as these, and I’d go so far as to suggest we’re not really seeking answers. What we want is to reclaim a sense of peace. Such things cannot ever be understood, any more than an act of so-called “justice” could satisfy the survivors. No matter what, we’re left with pain, confusion, anger, despair, and in some cases, abject hatred.

So how do we go about rediscovering a sense of peace amid so much suffering and bloodshed?  After all, it’s not a natural part of the human condition. Those who ascribe to the “everything happens for a reason” mindset have a particularly difficult time with such tragedies, as they must reconcile what they believe about God’s plan with such horrendous human-made consequences.

The only way we find peace is to try to transcend the very humanity of the experience. At the essence of life is suffering, and if that is all we lay claim to, it’s all we’re left with. But in acknowledging that we not only don’t understand life sometimes, but that we also cannot control it, we are relieved of the curse of why’s and how’s that get us nowhere closer to the peace we desire.

Ironically, this transcendence, for many, is found in a community of faith. For the Amish, the very bonds that hold them together are the same ones that marry them to their faith. The two are inseparable. Yet even when this peace-loving and peace-living community is encroached upon by the violence of the outside world, you hear no cries for retribution. You don’t even hear complaints of the unfairness of life. What we witness is a community that comes even closer together to support one another, to remember and begin the slow healing process.

No one can make sense of these recent events. We may never completely understand Roberts’ motivations, and even if we did, we would still live with the stain of his murdering binge. However, the prayerful, peaceful response of those who suffered the most – as unnatural as it may seem – makes all the sense in the world.

Church and sex don’t mix, but they should

Sunday, October 1st, 2006

Church and sex don’t mix, but they should

The Pueblo Chieftain Online

I was the music minister at a small church in Texas for a few years before coming to Colorado.

My wife, Amy, worked with the youth group, which varied in size from two to six kids at any given time. There was one 16-year-old girl who was mature beyond her years. She was intelligent, had plans for college and was a natural leader.

Then she got pregnant.

After conferring with her mother – a single mom raising both her and her twin sister – she opted to keep the baby, who was eventually adopted by a couple within the church. The child found a loving home, a couple’s dream for a family was fulfilled, and the young woman was able to continue with many of her future plans.

Although this was a best-case scenario given the circumstances, even this situation was emotionally, physically and financially traumatic. Unfortunately, most consequences of teen sex are not as easy.

Per capita, teens in the United States are twice as likely to become pregnant as their peers in Canada and Great Britain, and they are four times as likely as those in France and Sweden. Almost 50 percent of American high-school students report having sex, and one in seven report having four or more partners before they reach graduation. Eighty percent of first sexual encounters involve drugs or alcohol, and 60 percent of sexually transmitted diseases and two in three unwanted pregnancies occur when one or both partners are intoxicated.

These are only the tip of the statistical iceberg, but it’s enough to demonstrate that anyone willing to ignore the reality of teen sex and its consequences are doing so willfully. So who’s to blame for the lack of adequate information our teenage (or younger) children possess about sex?

Most churches are reticent to openly discuss sexuality at all, let alone with their youths. For many, the church’s stance on sex is that all parts under the belt are dirty, not to be used for any pleasurable activities until marriage, and all indiscretions – and even thoughts – should elicit shame. End of lesson.

Many parents depend on schools to teach kids what they need to know, yet they rarely take the time to review the curriculum or qualifications of the person teaching the class. Meanwhile, most schools offer only a superficial biological survey of sexuality at best, with little practical discussion about the emotional, social and hormonal pressures that a newly sexualized teen faces.

Biblically, shame is historically interwoven with sex too. From the chastisement of Adam and Eve to Sodom and Gomorrah and the story of the hemorrhaging woman, there are plenty of examples to draw from to impart indignity upon sex. If we want to assert that not only the act of sex is dirty, but also the parts of our bodies and feelings associated with sexuality, we can use the Bible to back us up.

Meanwhile, our children continue to engage in activities they hardly understand, and which we are hardly prepared to discuss with them until it’s too late.

We, as God’s creatures, are entirely made in God’s image, genitals and all. We are created to be drawn together sexually, to share intimately with one another, and, in most cases, to multiply.

Sexuality, and even the act of sex, is not a dirty thing. It’s the abuse of this power that causes damage for those both directly and indirectly involved.

There is a nonprofit called CLER Ministries that is committed to sexuality training for clergy and laity and the children they serve. It offers weeklong camps for eighth-grade kids, workshops at churches, and it works from the premise that it is a central mission of all of the nation’s churches to engage young people about their sexuality.

Some will disagree that church is an acceptable place to talk openly about sex.

If not in church, where? If not now, when?

Christian Piatt is a nonprofit consultant, freelance writer and music minister at Milagro Christian Church. He can be reached at cpiatt@milagrocc.org .

A Breif History of Hell and Satan (Column – pt. 2 of 2)

Saturday, September 23rd, 2006

A look into the shadows: A brief history of hell and Satan
(Part two of two)

By Christian Piatt

(This column originally appeared in the Pueblo Chieftain Newspaper)
Last week, I discussed some of the historical bases for our contemporary understanding of Satan. This week, I’ll consider how hell evolved as part of the Christian faith.

In Old Testament scripture, the resting place for the dead is called Sheol. While some believe this is the same as hell, there are indications to the contrary. In the ancient Jewish tradition, Sheol is a place of rest for both righteous and wicked, with no distinction.

Not everyone is happy about it either.

In the third chapter of Malachi, the prophet recognizes the consternation of faithful Jews who are frustrated that the wicked share the same fate. In Ecclesiastes, the priest Koheleth claims that serving God is vanity. For him, the fact that the righteous are treated the same as the wicked and vice-versa should be a call to eat, drink and be merry.

With respect to any relationship between Satan in the Old Testament and Sheol, there is none.

Approximately 3,500 years ago, the Greek philosophical practice of Hellenism emerged. Hellenism was practiced by the preponderance of Greek culture, valuing logic, knowledge, self-care and moderation. It was influential on Jewish culture, not only in the practices adhered to by the Greeks, but also with regard to their belief in the immortal soul and the afterlife that followed.

Greek culture believed in a place called Hades, which was the resting place for disembodied souls. We see evidence of this in writing as far back as the 8th century B.C., in Homer’s Odyssey. Hades is described as an Underworld, literally located underground; thus we can see the first indication of why we think of hell as such.

Hades includes multiple levels, including Elysium and Tartarus. Elysium, also called Elysian Fields, can be equated with our modern idea of heaven. One difference – although Greek scholars did not always agree on where different levels of Hades were – is that we think of heaven as located above us, whereas the general consensus is that all levels of Hades were part of a larger Underworld.

Tartarus was the level of Hades where unrighteous souls dwelled. This correlates to our modern understanding of hell, where there is wailing, fire and gnashing of teeth as those who displease God pay an eternal price of their disloyalty. For the Jews of the time, this Hellenistic belief was appealing because it helped justify their faithfulness. It gave reasons beyond earthly consequence for following the laws of the Hebrew scripture.

How heavily did Greek culture influence Jewish tradition?  Consider this: whereas the Old Testament was written in Hebrew, the original language of the New Testament is Greek. The influence of Greek culture can hardly be over-emphasized.

The writings of Flavius Josephus, a Jewish priest, had tremendous sway over early founders of the Christian church such as Origen, Justin Martyr and Irenaeus. Josephus, in turn, was particularly interested in Greek culture and ideology, as well as that of the Essenes, an ascetic Jewish network very focused on end-times theology and Jewish mysticism. Joesphus’ noncannonical texts such as The Jewish War and Jewish Antiquities were available to these church fathers, as well as to those who wrote the Gospel texts and other New Testament scripture, which is the source of our contemporary understanding of hell.

Unfortunately this historical perspective doesn’t help make any clearer what the “truth” is about the afterlife. It does, however, tell us something about ourselves, our deepest hopes and fears, and our need for human justice. We may claim to understand God’s ways, truth and justice, but ultimately, it’s all filtered through our dimly illuminated human lens.

God only knows what awaits us.

A Brief History of hell and Satan (part one)

Saturday, September 16th, 2006

We have met the devil, and it is us: A Brief History of Hell and Satan
(part one of two)

By Christian Piatt

This column was originally published in the Pueblo Chieftain newspaper

            While Jonathan Edwards wasn’t the first to preach about hell and condemnation, his ‘Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God’ sermon in 1741 crystallizes the beginning of a modern movement in the church. Edwards employed fear of punishment as a primary means for conversion and doctrinal adherence. Meanwhile, his congregants fainted in the aisles and clung to the pews to avoid being dragged down into the abyss.

We can argue day and night about whether or not fear-based theology is effective, biblically accurate and even necessary. But it’s worthwhile to consider where our contemporary ideas about hell and Satan even come from.

This week, we’ll begin with Satan; we’ll save hell for next week.

Some understand the serpent in the Genesis story to be an incarnation of Satan.  However, Satan first emerges in the Old Testament by name in I Chronicles, and again in Job. His primary role is to demonstrate the weakness of humanity in the face of hardship.

In Job, Satan must receive permission from God to prove the fragility of Job’s faith by submitting him to any number of hardships. Satan’s sentiments about people are summed up in Job 2:4, when he claims, “Skin for skin! All that people have they will give to save their lives.”

He shows up again in similar form in II Samuel and Numbers, always as the antagonist. The name Satan actually means ‘adversary.’ While some may interpret this to mean he is God’s adversary, it’s more accurate to define him as humanity’s adversary, always trying to show how unworthy we are of God’s love.

In the Old Testament, Satan has no latitude to operate outside of what God gives him permission to do. Think of him more like a prosecuting attorney, beholden to God’s judiciary authority. He actually works alongside God instead of against God.

Some people also erroneously refer to Satan as Lucifer. The word “Lucifer” means “Light Bearer” in Latin, which was the term used to describe the planet Venus. Some people take Isaiah 14, about Lucifer’s fall, to be a story about Satan being cast out from heaven, as it looks similar to a quote in Luke. However, most biblical scholars and historians contend that this interpretation is taken out of context.

The “Morning Star” actually was a term commonly used to describe the Babylonian Empire. The king of Babylon not only oppressed the Israelites, but he also made a habit of comparing himself to God in the scope of his power. With this understanding, the scripture in Isaiah actually is prophesying the fall of the Babylonian Empire.

As for the use of the names “Lucifer” and “Satan” interchangeably in the Bible, it doesn’t happen. Satan is not described as Lucifer until secular literature such as John Milton’s Paradise Lost adopted the pseudonym. From there, the name seeped its way into our culture until we mistakenly began taking it as scripture.

Satan is much more prevalent – and more powerful – in the New Testament. He possesses people, tempts Christ, and Jesus even claims to see Satan in others, including Peter, his most faithful disciple.

Some maintain that Satan is an embodied figure, while others understand the stories about Satan more metaphorically, representing the perennial weakness of the flesh. There is one thing upon which we can all agree: evil exists.

Theologian Frederick Buechner says that evils exists because, in being allowed to choose whether or not to love God and one another, we also have the choice whether on not to live out our most evil impulses. In this way, Satan lingers in our choices rather than in the shadows, and in the mirror rather than the depths of hell.

Now, that’s scary stuff.

More next week.

If Windows Can Offer Updates, Why Not Jesus? (Column 9-9-06)

Friday, September 8th, 2006

If Windows can offer updates, why not Jesus?

Originally written for the Pueblo Chieftain newspaper

Many of Jesus’ stories are hard to relate to today. I mean, how many of us know what a mustard seed looks like anyway? And in the currency of Jesus’ day, how much was a talent?

So mostly for my own amusement, I decided to offer some new interpretations on a few of Jesus’ most famous parables, as if he were telling them today. We’ll start with the parable of the mustard seed.

“God’s paradise is like a dual boot microprocessor,” Jesus explained. “Even though the processors are really small, once they’re placed in the proper motherboard, they’re able to support many different operating system platforms.”

Umm, yeah. How about the parable of the talents?

“A fund manager for Salomon Smith Barney met with three of his traders. He gave $50,000 to one trader, $20,000 to another, and $10,000 to the new guy. The one with $50,000 created a diversified investment portfolio, with an equal balance of international stocks, small cap equities and commodities. Before long, he doubled his money. The one with $20,000 spread her money across municipal bonds, high-yield T-bills and blue chip performers. She too doubled her holdings. The junior trader started freaking out, worrying that he’d lose his boss’ money, so he stuffed it all under his mattress.

“The manager was impressed with the savvy of the first two traders, and offered to make them partners. He gave the new guy a broom and wished him luck in his new role as senior custodian.”

Maybe the story about new wine in old wineskins will make more sense.

Jesus and his friends go to an office party and they’re enjoying themselves. The religious leaders, all decked out in their fancy priest garb, are observing a religious fast. They’re amazed to see Jesus and his followers munching on wine and cheese.

“What’s your deal?” asks one of the priests. “I thought you were religious and stuff.”

“Evidently you didn’t get the memo,” replied Jesus. “Guys like you take the air out of a room. Loosen up – it’s a party for crying out loud. You can fast later. Look at you! Who wears a cleric’s outfit on Hawaiian Shirt Friday? Would you wear a clown suit to a funeral? You guys are a drag. Have some Havarti and chill out.”

OK, so updating the parables may not be such a good idea. In today’s terms, these stories may come across as trite or even more confusing. The point is that we don’t have to know what mustard seeds or talents are to get the message.

Jesus could have distilled his points down and just told us what we needed to know. He could have made a list of rules, told us how to live to make God happy, and then we wouldn’t have to worry if we were holy enough, pious enough or righteous enough.

The thing is that there already were hundreds of religious rules. The Pharisees gave Jesus a hard time at every turn for breaking one or more of them. Instead of trading one set of rules for another, Jesus told stories. But we still just want to be told what to do so we don’t have to worry about whether or not we are living the right way.

Douglas Adams makes a good point in his book, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. When seekers ask the supercomputer called Deep Thought for the ‘Ultimate answer to life, the universe and everything,’ his answer is ‘Forty-two.’ Deep Thought’s followers are exasperated by this unsatisfying result after 7.5 million years of waiting.

“I think the problem,” replies Deep Thought, “is that you’ve never actually known what the question is.”

Amen, Deep Thought.

Mother Nature reminds us what’s in our nature to forget

Saturday, September 2nd, 2006

Nature reminds us what’s in our nature to forget

I was sitting on the porch of our Northside home last week when a nearly solid sheet of rain advanced quickly toward me. I moved inside where my son, Mattias, napped peacefully as the rain began to pound violently on the rooftop. Only minutes before, the air had been cool and placid, and the sky had given no indication of such a downpour. The clouds, now boiling, turned angrily dark.

I ran quickly around the house, shutting storm windows. Just as the last one closed, the power transformer across the street let out an agonizing groan. Our living room went dark just as I heard a crackling I thought was lightning in the front yard.

I glanced out the front window just in time to see a sixty-year-old ash tree split into three pieces. One limb crashed across the width of the street, blocking the path of anyone foolish enough to be driving. Another fell toward our house, thankfully redirected by another tree as it crashed earthward.

A third tree between the neighbor’s house and ours split just as I received a message from the weather service on my phone. It was the third alert in about a minute’s time, but I had been too absorbed in the moment to notice. The warning indicated that a funnel cloud was forming over north-central Pueblo.

My wife, Amy, ran upstairs to gather our son, who never stirred prior to her waking him. The largest of our trees hung ominously over his room, and with two exposed windows, we decided that disturbing his sleep was more desirable than other alternatives.

We lingered in the basement for half an hour, with the pitch dark broken only by an anemic flashlight whose batteries had not been checked since the last monsoon season. When the storm passed our yard was blanketed by the remains of trees, and the gutters swelled beyond their capacity. We were blocked in our driveway by three limbs immovable by human hands, and we remained without power for just over a day.

The entire experience, as well as the days that followed, reminded me of several things which the relative mundanity of life allow me to neglect.

It reminded me of the awesome power of God’s creation, and my relatively humble place in it.

It reminded me that whatever control we think we have is at best fleeting, if not all together illusory.

Despite inconveniences and minor expenses, I was reminded of those along the Gulf Coast and abroad who still suffer the after-effects of nature’s wrath.

The family from our congregation who brought us dinner as we cleaned the debris from our yard reminded me that there’s something more than a church building that binds us together.

Spontaneous neighborhood gatherings, watching as firefighters and power companies restored order, reminded me that, despite our hectic and self-absorbed culture, we are indeed a community.

The double rainbow that arched overhead following the torrents reminded me that God’s universe is a place of chaos, and at the same time, indescribable beauty.

The complaints from a surly handful of folks about blackouts and road closures less than a day after the storm reminded me that we all could use to place our relative wealth, health and safety in a much broader context.

Incessant why’s and how’s issued from my son about the incident reminded me that, hard as I may try, I will leave this world with many more questions than answers.

We still have some cleanup ahead, but there’s a part of me that hopes we won’t sweep away all of the signs of the experience too quickly. I need to be reminded of what’s important, and how blessed I really am, every once in a while.

Without God, does church still matter? (8-26-06)

Saturday, August 26th, 2006

Without God, does church still matter?

 

I enjoy the company of atheists and agnostics. Some of my best friends are agnostics.

What’s more curious is that they enjoy my company. As a self-proclaimed churchy guy, you might think they would find me annoying in my faith. However, I spend more time talking about what I believe with those who don’t claim a faith than I do with those who identify themselves as Christians.

Sometimes I feel like these friends of mine are intrigued by what I get out of being a part of church. Our move halfway across the country to start a new ministry in our living room made no sense to them. I’ll be the first to admit it doesn’t make sense; after all, faith itself doesn’t find it’s foundation in logic. It’s faith, after all.

Trying to explain what keeps me committed to church is hard sometimes. I, like many people, have been hurt both by individuals within church, as well as the systems that drive them. But I wouldn’t walk away because of this any more than I think divorce is a reasonable response to a family argument.

Church is flawed because we humans are a part of it. This is not a condemnation of our job as church members, but rather an acknowledgement that we bring all of our baggage with us to church. Sometimes, we screw it up. But sometimes, we get it right.

For me, the first need that church fulfills is worship. This time that is set aside every week helps renew me, and puts my own life – including my own seemingly big problems – in perspective. It helps me remember what really matters, and gives me time to reorient myself toward those efforts that give me life, rather than take it away from me.

The question inevitably arises from my friends about how I would feel if I suddenly realized that there was no God. Am I sure, they ask, that my prayers are not simply mental exercises? How would my church be different if I knew that the Almighty didn’t exist?

Fortunately, church offers more than insight into scripture, time for worship and prayer. At its best, church serves the world of which it is a part. It is an extended family to which we can return that celebrates and mourns with us. It opens itself up as a united but diverse body, breaking itself open and giving itself away to those in need, without fear of not having enough.

Sure, church gets caught up in membership drives, capital campaigns, and novel programs. It also has at its core the most fundamentally redeeming characteristics of humankind: love, compassion, service and humility.

God is at the essence of our individual and collective nature, but these characteristics also serve practical purposes. We’re not the fastest or strongest species on the planet, and so it’s from our social systems that we find our strength. Church helps provide this community for which we long.

At its worst, however, church forgets its obligation to the world around it, and even to the faithful within its walls. It becomes so intent on building itself up that the humble beginnings of our church at Pentecost are forgotten. It becomes an institution rather than a movement. In these moments, the church is no more about God than any other local service organization.

Can the church do good work without God? Yes. Can we serve the community simply as a practical exercise? Sure. But every time we fall into the pattern of placing ourselves, or that which we have accomplished, at the center, rather than keeping our focus on something greater, we risk fulfilling the question, “What would the church be without God?”

Freedom in Spontaneous Generosity – Chieftain Column 8-19-06

Thursday, August 24th, 2006

There’s freedom in spontaneous generosity

I was taking my son, Mattias, to the train depot recently as a reward for good behavior. Of all the places in the world, he is obsessed with the depot downtown. I hardly discourage him, partly because I love trains as well, and also because it’s free and still makes him happy. Talk about a win-win.

On our way down the street, I was approached by a man asking for some money. I told him I couldn’t help him out because I was out of money. I was out of cash, but I had my check card with me, and we stood less than a hundred yards from a place where I could have easily bought him lunch.

Having grown up in a big city, I experienced requests like these a dozen times a day or more, to the point that I became somewhat inured. I followed in others’ footsteps who assured me the money would only buy drugs or alcohol. This could easily be remedied by buying the person food, but this takes time.

Time being an equally precious commodity, we’re often as reticent to part with it as we are with our money. We especially don’t care to spend time with someone that might smell bad or make us a little uncomfortable. So it’s easier to tell a white lie about our lack of funds, or convince ourselves we’re just too busy.

Generosity is a curious thing. There’s this basic gut-level part of us that hesitates to let go of what we have, and seeks to horde as much as possible to allay the fear that we’ll run out of – well, anything. We can always come up with excuses for why we don’t have enough, and why someone else wouldn’t use our resources as well as we would. When it comes down to it, the motive is protecting our own: a very natural but very un-Christian thing way to think.

We had a car wash and barbecue at our church recently, where we cleaned cars and fed guests from off the street for free. Many tried to pay us, but we simply wanted to do it as a service to the community. By people’s expressions, you’d have thought we were roasting their household pets on the grill, rather than burgers and hot dogs.

“So, what’s the catch?” said one woman.

“What’s wrong with that?” asked another, not quite able to articulate her confusion.

Some in the church were hesitant to pass up a fundraising opportunity, which is understandable since we’re a relatively small and new church. But the more cars we washed and the more food we gave away, the more excited we all got. We’d clap and wave our hands in the air like idiots when someone would pull in the parking lot for a free wash. We got sunburned, wet and filthy, but everyone left excited about the work we’d done.

I learned something that afternoon. I discovered that generosity as a regular discipline, such as tithing, is not enough. There’s a gift to be found in spontaneous generosity, letting loose of something you never intended giving away, just at the moment someone asks for it.

We can’t control what’s done with our resources once we give them away, but in that vulnerability, there is freedom. For one moment, we’re focused not on what we have and how to keep it, but rather on the unexpected joy of being free of our own wants.

As we walked away from the man begging for lunch money, my two-year-old son looked up at me with the trust that only a child can muster and asked, “Daddy, what did that man want?”

I lied and said I didn’t know, to embarrassed to tell him that the man only wanted something to eat. If I had, the next question would have been, “Why?” and I just wasn’t ready to try to answer that.