I am very tired tonight as I write this. Not sleepy, per se, but that deep weariness in your chest tired. The kind of tired you can push through, but only with a lot of sighing and occasionally staring off into the distance. There is rest in the near future. I can see it on the horizon. But for now I must push on.
It was a long day at work. And I have been doing push ups and pull ups, so that would explain why it feels so good to take deep breaths, to stretch out my chest. And of course I have 4 kids under 5 and a wife that is just as exhausted as I am by the end of the day. And there are so many dishes. And toys. And why does it take so long for kids to put on underwear?
As I was wondering what to write about tonight, it occurred to me that this deep down tired is something I have been feeling on a spiritual level as well. Spiritually tired.
I have always been interested in God. And I think I have always had a picture of what God needed to be if he was to be true. He must be loving. He must be good. If he was neither of these things, then even if he was real he was not someone I wanted to worship or even appease. And so as I learned more of my faith, the various approaches to it, the various argued doctrines and practices, I would try one and then the other, picking and choosing as I went.
I went for a hike by myself one time while camping with some friends. It was supposedly an established trail, but at some point I lost the trail and found myself following what was probably just a deer path. Instead of turning around though, I looked at my map and decided that I could probably just keep going and eventually run into where the trail should be. As I wandered the forest, I could see landmarks in the distance that helped me orient, I could see the lay of the land and compare it to the map on my phone, and above all, I just had this deep "feeling" that I was going the right way. This went on for about an hour as I climbed higher into the mountain. I would follow one deer path, then another that would fizzle out. Then I would backtrack a bit and keep going. Eventually I found myself in an open part of the forest on an unexpectedly flat ridge and thought maybe I had made a bad decision to keep going. I was just following animal paths, for crying out loud! And animals rarely care to go the same places I do. Just as I was considering giving up and turning around, I saw an actual deer trotting across my path up ahead. I stood still and he had nearly passed me when he realized I was standing there. And then he bolted. I jogged forward to watch him bound away and suddenly realized that while I had been following the paths of his people, he had been following the paths of mine. The trail had appeared out of nowhere and I immediatly knew where I was.
This is a great metaphor for my spiritual life so far. I knew where I was going. I had the landmarks of scripture and the good examples of the men and women I respected to follow. But I still just didn't know where I was. In the end, no matter how good I was at orienteering, no matter what my dying phone was telling me, I had never been to that forest before and I had NOTHING to tell me if I was on the right track. I mean, people did tell me I was on the right track. Or they argued that their track was better. But they were just as lost in that forest as I was. They had no more credentials, no more authority that I had. So where the hell was I? And where was that F'ing trail?
The problem with Protestant Christianity lies in the fact that they fought the wrong battle. In their desire to free themselves from the corruption of the Catholic Church, they decided that the only real authority they needed in their lives was the Scripture. Which would be fine if the Scripture was written for that purpose. But it is not. Rarely does it answer directly the question we want answers to. If we want to know about things like the Trinity, a foundational Christian doctrine, we must piece it together from random indirect references to it in books and letters that really aren't talking about it.
The battle was never about the authority of scripture. In fact, the Catholics themselves recognize that scripture is authoritative. Everyone does, actually. Scripture is the one thing we can point to outside of ourselves to give credence to whatever we're saying. The authority of scripture just isn't in question. Its the interpretation of it that is. Protestants claim that every person has the ability to read scripture and determine the Truth about God. They are constantly claiming things are "scriptural" and "Bible Based" as if their opinions about what the scriptures say is completley obvious. But its not obvious. That's why none of us agree with each other. We all read the same scripture and either copy what someone else says or come up with our own ideas. Solo Scriptura doesn't work. No matter how strongly I feel about whatever deer path I'm on, I don't know any more than any other bloke lost in the woods where it goes.
And then I found Orthodoxy. They have a Tradition of interpretation that can be traced back to the disciples of the disciples of Jesus himself. And there's the real revelation. Jesus says that to know the Father you must know him. He is the full revelation of God. Scripture, written by other people about Jesus may be very informative, but it is the person of Jesus who fully reveals who God is. And to think that I, 2,000 years later would be able to understand the person of Jesus better than anyone who came before me, even those who sat at his feet as children, that's the kind of arrogance that gets you really lost on the wrong side of the mountain. That's when I realized I was so tired. Tired of having to be right. Tired of realizing I was wrong and I needed to come up with a new way of seeing things. Tired of pretending like I had any idea where I was. I needed to see that the whole time I was following that deer path, the deer were following the actual trail. I thought I could get myself out of the woods, but what I needed to do all along was just look up and see the actual deer with enough humility to follow.
I am ready to submit to a Tradition. I am ready to say that maybe I don't know it all and can't figure it out all on my own. I am thankful that Jesus did not reveal God to his disciples and then leave the rest of us hanging, desperatly clawing meaning out of whatever scraps are left two centuries later. I am ready to admit that I'm lost and I need some guidance on where the trail is. I am ready to get out of these woods.
5/12/16
4/28/16
20/20
When I was in 6th grade, I was told that I had failed an eye exam and would need to get glasses. I thought this was patently absurd. For one thing, I just didn't fail things. Granted, I never really tried to pass tests, but it wasn't that hard for me to get by without really working at. And I worked at that vision test. I squinted and leaned forward, but those damn letters were just too small.
The test and the test results did not convince me though. I insisted that the reason I couldn't see the board was because it was white chalk on a green background. There's no contrast! Everyone has problems seeing those colors. And the teacher writes so small. Maybe they should get an actual black board. Or one of those fancy new white boards I saw on TV (this was the eighties).
But the glasses were fitted and no classrooms were renovated. I was not immediately impressed by the improvement. Sure I could see better, but what was I seeing that I had previously been missing? Its not like I really cared what was happening across the street before. Now that I could see it I still didn't see why I needed to. And then I went to school.
I had not worn the glasses into class. They sat safely encased in the pleather case in my backpack. I wasn't ready to face my classmates through two pieces of glass. So when class started and the chalkboard began filling up, I slipped them on hoping no one would notice. And my world changed.
I had never before realized how much stuff decorated the walls of my classroom. I knew what all the posters said because I had stood before them at one point or another, but now I could see every single one of them from my seat in the middle of the classroom! And the chalk board! Crisp white lines formed perfectly legible words. I could see every dot over every i. I could see the pattern the teacher had wiped the board with the last time it was erased. I could even see the chalk in the tray--the chalk the teacher wouldn't even use any more because it was too small. I was suddenly seeing so many details about a place I had spent so much time and had never realized they were there. I must have spent the whole day just gawking around me at everything in the room. I probably looked like a fool. But I felt as if I had seen God.
That feeling of absolute astonishment at finally seeing something I had been looking at for so long has always stuck with me. To think the world exists a certain way, only to find out that nothing is as it seems is quite a trip. I recently read an article by Father Freeman that gave me a similar feeling. Actually, I lot of the things I'm learning as I journey towards Orthodoxy (even before I knew that was the likely destination) feel this way.
The article was about PSA--Penal Substitution Atonement theory. PSA is the dominant, dare I say only, theory of atonement in Protestant churches. Other theories exist, but at least as an Evangelical, they all border on heresy compared to this one. PSA states that our sin has caused us to be in debt of some kind towards God. "For the wages of sin is death", Paul says, so according to PSA, the sins we commit require us to die, or more accurately, spend eternity in the debtor's prison of Hell. The negative account can only be balanced out by the shedding of blood. And that blood has to not have debt of its own, or it won't be enough. Hence, Jesus had to die. His innocent blood paid our sin debt.
Since this is they way we've all been raised as evangelicals, most of us don't even question this. At least not very hard. Any serious inquiry is usually met with claims that you just don't have enough faith. But the theory is riddled with questions I've never been able to answer, despite faithfully believing it for so long. To whom is our debt owed? Why does God tell us to turn the other cheek, but cannot do so himself? Why does God tell us to forgive each other's debt without payment when he doesn't do so himself? Why does he have to kill his own son in order to fulfill a legal requirement that he himself set up? Why can't God be...God? Why can't he just do whatever he wants? Why can't he forgive without compensation-- especially when he tells us to do exactly that?
These questions were, to be honest, never quite expressed so bluntly in my evangelical days. But they always sat there at the back of my conscious, quietly troubling my soul. Like the fuzzy patches of color around the room in my pre-glasses days, they never really bothered me too much but also never let me forget they were there.
Orthodoxy presents a different story of Atonement. In their take on things, the real miracle in the story of salvation wasn't so much the death and resurrection, but the incarnation that made the death and resurrection possible in the first place. They see sin as apart from us. It may be something I do which is wrong, but it is also much more than that. It is a broken world, a twisted body, a weakened will. It is not me so much as it is a condition that I have. I am not my sin the way that I am not my Diabetes. Or my Cancer. These things govern my life in ways I wish they wouldn't, but they are not me. They are apart from me. I may struggle with them fight them, give in to them, but I am separate from them. (for the record, I do not actually have diabetes and am not aware of having cancer). Christ became Human. He gave up all it meant to be God and took on flesh. My flesh. And then he went through all of the sucky things in life that I have gone through, passed me by going into death itself before finally being resurrected. Scripture even says he "became sin for us". Jesus, the holy, immortal and sinless God became Sin for me. And after dying he was resurrected into life. He trampled down death by death. He became what we are so that we might become what he is.
Then he told us to take up our own cross and follow him. And so the Orthodox believe that our life as Christians should be one of continually dying to ourselves and to the world around us. We follow Christ into the grave because we know that our resurrection lies on the other side. This is the good news. That salvation is hard. But it is possible because Christ has led the way and he will take us to the other side.
When I was first introduced to Orthodoxy, I heard the story of a saint who on his deathbed claimed to be frightened by the prospect of dying and laying eyes on God. His fellow monks tried to pacify him, saying that since he had spent years repenting of his sin, surely if God would accept anyone He would accept him. But the saint replied that he "had not even begun repenting!" To my evangelical ears, this was a sad state to die in. As evangelicals we revel in our salvation. "Everything is permissible"! There is no more consequence for our action, at least not on a spiritual level. There is no reason to fear God because God never actually sees us. He only sees Jesus who has paid our debt and stands before us. To spend a lifetime repenting without the assurance of salvation is such a pity. Better to live in the victory that Christ has brought.
But in PSA, its not really a victory, is it? At least no more a victory than finally paying off those school loans or a house mortgage? And what about the part where God doesn't see you, he only sees Jesus? How sad is that? We now spend eternity hiding behind Jesus, pretending that we're not actually there? We never actually see God and he never actually sees us.
As I've come to understand the Orthodox view of salvation more, I see the continual repentance (and it is continual, nearly repetitive) in a different light. Because we are not our sin, because sin is a condition we live in, a sickness within ourselves, we repent not (just) as a confession of our wrong doing, but an acknowledgement of our situation. The Orthodox are like AA members who have been sober for thirty years. They have not touched alcohol for so long, but they still introduce themselves at every meeting (which they still go to) as "an alcoholic". Because they recognize that they still need saving. They may not be actually sinning, but the Sin is still there, threatening to pull them down at every turn. It still brings sorrow and pain. It still warps our view of the world around us in ways we aren't even aware of.
In this view of Sin, we can actually do what the Evangelicals say we should do-- rejoice in the victory that Jesus has brought-- while at the same time remain aware of the great peril we are still in. This is the Narrow Road that Jesus talks about (in my opinion, anyway). On one side lies the depth of arrogance and pride which comes when we live as if there are no more consequences. On the other lies despair and hopelessness when we fail to trust God to save us.
And this is how my world has changed in the last few years. I have put on a new set of glasses and cannot stop gawking at the world around me. Everything I see in a new light and when people talk about the things across the street, I wonder why they don't put on their glasses too. Leaving PSA behind for the Orthodox viewpoint has changed the way I read scripture, the way I relate to the people around me (especially the non-christians), they way I actively pursue God. I can honestly say that God is Love now. Those pesky fuzzy questions in the distance are not what I thought they were and the i's are finally dotted. I can finally see. May all of this lead one day to my seeing the very face of God!
The test and the test results did not convince me though. I insisted that the reason I couldn't see the board was because it was white chalk on a green background. There's no contrast! Everyone has problems seeing those colors. And the teacher writes so small. Maybe they should get an actual black board. Or one of those fancy new white boards I saw on TV (this was the eighties).
But the glasses were fitted and no classrooms were renovated. I was not immediately impressed by the improvement. Sure I could see better, but what was I seeing that I had previously been missing? Its not like I really cared what was happening across the street before. Now that I could see it I still didn't see why I needed to. And then I went to school.
I had not worn the glasses into class. They sat safely encased in the pleather case in my backpack. I wasn't ready to face my classmates through two pieces of glass. So when class started and the chalkboard began filling up, I slipped them on hoping no one would notice. And my world changed.
I had never before realized how much stuff decorated the walls of my classroom. I knew what all the posters said because I had stood before them at one point or another, but now I could see every single one of them from my seat in the middle of the classroom! And the chalk board! Crisp white lines formed perfectly legible words. I could see every dot over every i. I could see the pattern the teacher had wiped the board with the last time it was erased. I could even see the chalk in the tray--the chalk the teacher wouldn't even use any more because it was too small. I was suddenly seeing so many details about a place I had spent so much time and had never realized they were there. I must have spent the whole day just gawking around me at everything in the room. I probably looked like a fool. But I felt as if I had seen God.
That feeling of absolute astonishment at finally seeing something I had been looking at for so long has always stuck with me. To think the world exists a certain way, only to find out that nothing is as it seems is quite a trip. I recently read an article by Father Freeman that gave me a similar feeling. Actually, I lot of the things I'm learning as I journey towards Orthodoxy (even before I knew that was the likely destination) feel this way.
The article was about PSA--Penal Substitution Atonement theory. PSA is the dominant, dare I say only, theory of atonement in Protestant churches. Other theories exist, but at least as an Evangelical, they all border on heresy compared to this one. PSA states that our sin has caused us to be in debt of some kind towards God. "For the wages of sin is death", Paul says, so according to PSA, the sins we commit require us to die, or more accurately, spend eternity in the debtor's prison of Hell. The negative account can only be balanced out by the shedding of blood. And that blood has to not have debt of its own, or it won't be enough. Hence, Jesus had to die. His innocent blood paid our sin debt.
Since this is they way we've all been raised as evangelicals, most of us don't even question this. At least not very hard. Any serious inquiry is usually met with claims that you just don't have enough faith. But the theory is riddled with questions I've never been able to answer, despite faithfully believing it for so long. To whom is our debt owed? Why does God tell us to turn the other cheek, but cannot do so himself? Why does God tell us to forgive each other's debt without payment when he doesn't do so himself? Why does he have to kill his own son in order to fulfill a legal requirement that he himself set up? Why can't God be...God? Why can't he just do whatever he wants? Why can't he forgive without compensation-- especially when he tells us to do exactly that?
These questions were, to be honest, never quite expressed so bluntly in my evangelical days. But they always sat there at the back of my conscious, quietly troubling my soul. Like the fuzzy patches of color around the room in my pre-glasses days, they never really bothered me too much but also never let me forget they were there.
Orthodoxy presents a different story of Atonement. In their take on things, the real miracle in the story of salvation wasn't so much the death and resurrection, but the incarnation that made the death and resurrection possible in the first place. They see sin as apart from us. It may be something I do which is wrong, but it is also much more than that. It is a broken world, a twisted body, a weakened will. It is not me so much as it is a condition that I have. I am not my sin the way that I am not my Diabetes. Or my Cancer. These things govern my life in ways I wish they wouldn't, but they are not me. They are apart from me. I may struggle with them fight them, give in to them, but I am separate from them. (for the record, I do not actually have diabetes and am not aware of having cancer). Christ became Human. He gave up all it meant to be God and took on flesh. My flesh. And then he went through all of the sucky things in life that I have gone through, passed me by going into death itself before finally being resurrected. Scripture even says he "became sin for us". Jesus, the holy, immortal and sinless God became Sin for me. And after dying he was resurrected into life. He trampled down death by death. He became what we are so that we might become what he is.
Then he told us to take up our own cross and follow him. And so the Orthodox believe that our life as Christians should be one of continually dying to ourselves and to the world around us. We follow Christ into the grave because we know that our resurrection lies on the other side. This is the good news. That salvation is hard. But it is possible because Christ has led the way and he will take us to the other side.
When I was first introduced to Orthodoxy, I heard the story of a saint who on his deathbed claimed to be frightened by the prospect of dying and laying eyes on God. His fellow monks tried to pacify him, saying that since he had spent years repenting of his sin, surely if God would accept anyone He would accept him. But the saint replied that he "had not even begun repenting!" To my evangelical ears, this was a sad state to die in. As evangelicals we revel in our salvation. "Everything is permissible"! There is no more consequence for our action, at least not on a spiritual level. There is no reason to fear God because God never actually sees us. He only sees Jesus who has paid our debt and stands before us. To spend a lifetime repenting without the assurance of salvation is such a pity. Better to live in the victory that Christ has brought.
But in PSA, its not really a victory, is it? At least no more a victory than finally paying off those school loans or a house mortgage? And what about the part where God doesn't see you, he only sees Jesus? How sad is that? We now spend eternity hiding behind Jesus, pretending that we're not actually there? We never actually see God and he never actually sees us.
As I've come to understand the Orthodox view of salvation more, I see the continual repentance (and it is continual, nearly repetitive) in a different light. Because we are not our sin, because sin is a condition we live in, a sickness within ourselves, we repent not (just) as a confession of our wrong doing, but an acknowledgement of our situation. The Orthodox are like AA members who have been sober for thirty years. They have not touched alcohol for so long, but they still introduce themselves at every meeting (which they still go to) as "an alcoholic". Because they recognize that they still need saving. They may not be actually sinning, but the Sin is still there, threatening to pull them down at every turn. It still brings sorrow and pain. It still warps our view of the world around us in ways we aren't even aware of.
In this view of Sin, we can actually do what the Evangelicals say we should do-- rejoice in the victory that Jesus has brought-- while at the same time remain aware of the great peril we are still in. This is the Narrow Road that Jesus talks about (in my opinion, anyway). On one side lies the depth of arrogance and pride which comes when we live as if there are no more consequences. On the other lies despair and hopelessness when we fail to trust God to save us.
And this is how my world has changed in the last few years. I have put on a new set of glasses and cannot stop gawking at the world around me. Everything I see in a new light and when people talk about the things across the street, I wonder why they don't put on their glasses too. Leaving PSA behind for the Orthodox viewpoint has changed the way I read scripture, the way I relate to the people around me (especially the non-christians), they way I actively pursue God. I can honestly say that God is Love now. Those pesky fuzzy questions in the distance are not what I thought they were and the i's are finally dotted. I can finally see. May all of this lead one day to my seeing the very face of God!
4/10/16
Farewell
This is the letter I sent to my former pastor before leaving for the Orthodox Church. I post it here in explanation, even if in hindsight I find it woefully lacking.
Pastor,
My wife said that today she told you we were moving to the Orthodox church. She then told me I had to write to you and explain why. Since you preached on mutual submission between husband and wife today, I am doing so, though I usually keep my thoughts to myself.
For a long time, much longer than we have been in this town and attending your church, I have had a feeling that something was missing in every church I attended. I came to realize after moving to this town that my misgivings weren't really with the particular churches I had attended--most of them were really good churches that I got a lot out of--but rather with evangelical Christianity in general. Something was missing, things just weren't fitting together for me theologically any more.
In college I had learned about Orthodoxy and the teachings I had picked up there have influenced me ever since. It is only recently I have realized that I was never going to find the kind of teaching I desperately wanted to receive from the churches I was attending. If I was going to bring Orthodox ideas into every discussion I had, maybe I should just be Orthodox? And so with that door passed through, I began the process of learning what I could before going farther and waiting for my wife to catch up to what I was seeing.
I do not know what you know of Orthodoxy, most Christians seem pretty ignorant of them or think they are just weird Catholics. That is not the case. I probably feel the same way about Catholicism that you do! Orthodoxy is a branch (they would say the main trunk) that extends all the way back to Jesus through the laying on of hands and a consistent theology. That cannot be said of any other church in history, even the Catholics. They adamantly proclaim that God is Love and their theology jives with that (I have trouble saying that about most protestant theologies). Their view of salvation and sin differs in significant ways from protestant theologies, but in my opinion is deeper, fuller, and more applicable to real life. They desperately want to know God and and the depths of His love. And they have 2000 years of experience training people to do so. Everything in Orthodoxy revolves around Love.
For example. In your sermon today, which for the most part was good, you said that in the event of a standstill between husband and wife, the husband has the final say. Let's ignore the simple logisitical problem that this gives the husband total domination over his wife--which I don't think you really believe, but there are those that do and practically speaking, you can't use this rule and mean otherwise. The real problem is that there is no Love in it. There is no love in authoritarianism and the use of force or rank is equally unloving. And I would bet that you have never actually played that card in your own marriage without some pretty negative results. Because it is not loving. Love never plays the power card. We can see this demonstrated by God himself. He loves us and wants to save us, but he never forces us. I often wondered why God wasn't more forceful in doing what is best for us. But he wants us to love him in return and you cannot force that kind of response truthfully. He must woo us subtly. He must play the part of the father waiting patiently for his son to return because if he does not, the son will never come back. He must play the part of the husband waiting for his cheating wife to return because if he does not she will never see him as someone she has harmed by her cheating--she will always be able to say, "See how controlling and manipulative he is? See how he throws his weight around?" This is the kind of love God and Jesus demonstrate for us. Completely self-sacrificing shame-bearing Love.
When God tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loves the church, he is asking them to take up their crosses and follow him in that kind of Love. Which means when you and your wife are at a standstill, it is the God-given responsibility of the husband to lay his own life down first. He must put his own opinions to death. He must put his own pride to death. He must submit himself to his wife willingly for her own sake the way that Jesus submitted himself to our will for our sake. That is love. Husbands do have something to answer for as the head of the household. But we will not be asked "why did you not control your woman?" We will be asked "Why did you not show your wife how to submit by submitting yourself? Why did you not show your wife how to apologize by apologizing first? Why were you not the first to be patient, kind, the first to change diapers and vacuum, why did you lord it over her?"
From a practical standpoint, this is way more strategic anyway. If you submit and she's right, then you saved yourself the embarrassment of messing things up. If she is wrong, then she will learn to trust your judgment the next time. By playing the Man Card, you only cause her to be resentful of you because you are always right or because you are too stupid to listen to reason and too prideful to give in.
You aren't the only pastor preaching this. I've never heard it preached another way, at least not in evangelical churches. So my complaint isn't against you specifically, but against all of evangelicalism and probably all of protestantism. And this specific example doesn't even touch the issues I have with solo-scriptura, the invisible church, the Forensic Model of Atonement, WWJD and more. I just am not an evangelical Christian anymore and its hard for me to worship in that environment knowing I am so different than everyone around me. Even my ideas of what worship really is have changed.
And so I am leaving for the Orthodox church. In them I have found friends and fellow believers. It is not an easy move, as they take their Christianity way more seriously than I've ever known possible. They seem to have such a fuller and deeper understanding of God and Man though, so I am willing to learn from them on other issues that are more foreign to me, like icons and Mary.
I hope I haven't offended you in this email. If so, forgive me. I am head-strong and prideful and have found it is safer for me to just not open my mouth than reveal myself to be so. Again, let's blame this on my wife, to whom I am submitting. There is so much more to my conversion than I can possibly relate in one (really loooonnnggg) email, so if you are interested in learning more I would love to talk more over beers or Cokes, whichever you prefer. You are welcome to try to convince me to stay Evangelical, I welcome the critique of my thoughts.
More than anything I just want to know God. I think you would say the same. If nothing else, please allow us to go with grace and love. We have heard some scary conversion stories and I would really like to look back on my time at your church with fond memories of understanding. I don't actually expect anything less from you, to be honest.
Thank you for the time we spent at your church. I will miss seeing friends there on Sunday and the love you have given our children. We may still be in and out for a while though. As I said, my wife is still a few steps behind me and I will not force her to follow. She would still like to attend your church from time to time.
With what I hope is Love,
ThatGuyFrodo
The pastor did try once to meet with me, but schedules did not work out. We heard it from a friend that he explained why we left because I "wanted something more liturgical".
Sigh.
Pastor,
My wife said that today she told you we were moving to the Orthodox church. She then told me I had to write to you and explain why. Since you preached on mutual submission between husband and wife today, I am doing so, though I usually keep my thoughts to myself.
For a long time, much longer than we have been in this town and attending your church, I have had a feeling that something was missing in every church I attended. I came to realize after moving to this town that my misgivings weren't really with the particular churches I had attended--most of them were really good churches that I got a lot out of--but rather with evangelical Christianity in general. Something was missing, things just weren't fitting together for me theologically any more.
In college I had learned about Orthodoxy and the teachings I had picked up there have influenced me ever since. It is only recently I have realized that I was never going to find the kind of teaching I desperately wanted to receive from the churches I was attending. If I was going to bring Orthodox ideas into every discussion I had, maybe I should just be Orthodox? And so with that door passed through, I began the process of learning what I could before going farther and waiting for my wife to catch up to what I was seeing.
I do not know what you know of Orthodoxy, most Christians seem pretty ignorant of them or think they are just weird Catholics. That is not the case. I probably feel the same way about Catholicism that you do! Orthodoxy is a branch (they would say the main trunk) that extends all the way back to Jesus through the laying on of hands and a consistent theology. That cannot be said of any other church in history, even the Catholics. They adamantly proclaim that God is Love and their theology jives with that (I have trouble saying that about most protestant theologies). Their view of salvation and sin differs in significant ways from protestant theologies, but in my opinion is deeper, fuller, and more applicable to real life. They desperately want to know God and and the depths of His love. And they have 2000 years of experience training people to do so. Everything in Orthodoxy revolves around Love.
For example. In your sermon today, which for the most part was good, you said that in the event of a standstill between husband and wife, the husband has the final say. Let's ignore the simple logisitical problem that this gives the husband total domination over his wife--which I don't think you really believe, but there are those that do and practically speaking, you can't use this rule and mean otherwise. The real problem is that there is no Love in it. There is no love in authoritarianism and the use of force or rank is equally unloving. And I would bet that you have never actually played that card in your own marriage without some pretty negative results. Because it is not loving. Love never plays the power card. We can see this demonstrated by God himself. He loves us and wants to save us, but he never forces us. I often wondered why God wasn't more forceful in doing what is best for us. But he wants us to love him in return and you cannot force that kind of response truthfully. He must woo us subtly. He must play the part of the father waiting patiently for his son to return because if he does not, the son will never come back. He must play the part of the husband waiting for his cheating wife to return because if he does not she will never see him as someone she has harmed by her cheating--she will always be able to say, "See how controlling and manipulative he is? See how he throws his weight around?" This is the kind of love God and Jesus demonstrate for us. Completely self-sacrificing shame-bearing Love.
When God tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loves the church, he is asking them to take up their crosses and follow him in that kind of Love. Which means when you and your wife are at a standstill, it is the God-given responsibility of the husband to lay his own life down first. He must put his own opinions to death. He must put his own pride to death. He must submit himself to his wife willingly for her own sake the way that Jesus submitted himself to our will for our sake. That is love. Husbands do have something to answer for as the head of the household. But we will not be asked "why did you not control your woman?" We will be asked "Why did you not show your wife how to submit by submitting yourself? Why did you not show your wife how to apologize by apologizing first? Why were you not the first to be patient, kind, the first to change diapers and vacuum, why did you lord it over her?"
From a practical standpoint, this is way more strategic anyway. If you submit and she's right, then you saved yourself the embarrassment of messing things up. If she is wrong, then she will learn to trust your judgment the next time. By playing the Man Card, you only cause her to be resentful of you because you are always right or because you are too stupid to listen to reason and too prideful to give in.
You aren't the only pastor preaching this. I've never heard it preached another way, at least not in evangelical churches. So my complaint isn't against you specifically, but against all of evangelicalism and probably all of protestantism. And this specific example doesn't even touch the issues I have with solo-scriptura, the invisible church, the Forensic Model of Atonement, WWJD and more. I just am not an evangelical Christian anymore and its hard for me to worship in that environment knowing I am so different than everyone around me. Even my ideas of what worship really is have changed.
And so I am leaving for the Orthodox church. In them I have found friends and fellow believers. It is not an easy move, as they take their Christianity way more seriously than I've ever known possible. They seem to have such a fuller and deeper understanding of God and Man though, so I am willing to learn from them on other issues that are more foreign to me, like icons and Mary.
I hope I haven't offended you in this email. If so, forgive me. I am head-strong and prideful and have found it is safer for me to just not open my mouth than reveal myself to be so. Again, let's blame this on my wife, to whom I am submitting. There is so much more to my conversion than I can possibly relate in one (really loooonnnggg) email, so if you are interested in learning more I would love to talk more over beers or Cokes, whichever you prefer. You are welcome to try to convince me to stay Evangelical, I welcome the critique of my thoughts.
More than anything I just want to know God. I think you would say the same. If nothing else, please allow us to go with grace and love. We have heard some scary conversion stories and I would really like to look back on my time at your church with fond memories of understanding. I don't actually expect anything less from you, to be honest.
Thank you for the time we spent at your church. I will miss seeing friends there on Sunday and the love you have given our children. We may still be in and out for a while though. As I said, my wife is still a few steps behind me and I will not force her to follow. She would still like to attend your church from time to time.
With what I hope is Love,
ThatGuyFrodo
The pastor did try once to meet with me, but schedules did not work out. We heard it from a friend that he explained why we left because I "wanted something more liturgical".
Sigh.
2/22/16
No Longer Protestant
I have been on a journey for many years. Maybe my whole life. For as long as I can remember I have desired to know God. Maybe it was because of the family I was raised in, a good, God-loving family in a evangelical church. My dad was basically a pastor, even if he wasn't officially one for most of my childhood. My mother's family has a long tradition of protestant christian service: all of my aunts and uncles are in some form of ministry. I went to a Christian college and studied to become a pastor. I spent over a year of my life overseas on mission trips. And through it all there has been one goal: to know God.
There are parts of me that are almost certainly a product of my family. Would I even be a Christian today had my family not started me in that belief system? We also have a long tradition of camping (the summer camp kind of camping, but also just tent camping) on both sides of my family. Without any intention of getting here, I find myself working at a camp now as my career. There are also certainly parts of me that are a product of my culture. I am very individualistic. I strive to be happy, comfortable and free. I tend to see the world in very concrete terms. So much so that even my spirituality has been a struggle at times, even if I couldn't ignore it in the end. And there are parts of me that come from my religious heritage, a evangelical protestant church. I love to define God and all that is spiritual. I have a strong commitment to the scriptures and a conviction that the Spirit will lead us all into the Truth. I know that I am saved through faith alone, by grace alone through Christ alone.
I know that my readers will read those traits and think of all of them positively. They are some of the things that are central to being a Maki, being an American, being a Christian. But my view of many of those things is changing, has been changing for a long time. I don't think I would disagree with any of them yet, but what I mean when I say them doesn't mean the same thing that my protestant friends and family mean anymore. I know this because as I've tried to explain some of the things I've been thinking to them, I get nods of agreement to things they shouldn't be agreeing to and warnings of doom for things they do not understand. It is my hope, through this blog that I will clarify some of these things, if only for myself.
For lack of any ideas on where else to start, I will start with the thing that has been nagging at me for pretty much forever. Well, maybe not forever. But for at least as long as I've been learning Christian theology. I believe that was the starting point because at that point I started having to wrestle with the Truth of Scripture, as it was taught by my church. While I don't remember voicing it very often, there seemed to be a gap between what we wanted to believe about God and what our theology actually stated about God. What I mean by that is that I was always taught that God is Love. That's a verse right out of scripture and I don't know any Christians of any flavor that would disagree with it (though I imagine that they exist). What I learned in theology though, didn't seem like God was Love. It usually sounds like this: "God is Love, but he is also Just". Which I guess is technically true, but isn't from a Bible verse. And the rest of scripture was very difficult to understand in light of a loving God as well. The God that was taught to me through my church's interpretation of the scripture wanted to be loving, but was held back by his sense of Honor. His devotion to justice is more powerful than his devotion to Love. And ultimately what God really wants to be is to be recognized as the greatest, the biggest, the best. And so he chose favorites, destroyed civilizations and threatened doom upon anyone who would threaten his Glory--all the while really really wanting to love us. Fortuantly he had a plan that would meet his Justice and it involved sacrificing his son. Which, don't get me wrong, is a very loving thing to do. But he only had to do it in order to satisfy the demands of his own pride, which seems strange since his own Son taught us to get rid of all our pride. In fact what Scripture teaches us about Love, and it does so quite explicitly, can't be applied to the Father. The Father does not love self-sacrificially. He only loves conditionally, as defined by his Justice. And to make it worse, the only one he's willing to sacrifice is his own son.
Ok, I'm characterizing a little bit. Please trust me when I say I know all the answers to these lines of thought. God is the only being in the universe for whom pride and Glory are ok for because he is the ultimate being, the creator of all. That kind of makes sense to me I suppose. His justice is important. A lovey-dovey god who just lets us walk all over him would be impotent and embarassing. I agree. Sacrificing your son is a kind of self-sacrifice. Well, I suppose so. In any case, I get it. I'm trained to be a pastor, remember? But it just never set right with me.
And that's where everyone is going to jump all over me. "It just doesn't seem right?" they'll ask. "You can't base your beliefs about God on what you feel," they'll smirk. But what else am I to do? I know quite rationally that things I think quite rational now are the very things I thought quite irrational not that long ago. So I can't trust my rationality. "Faith", they'll say. But faith in what? Why would I place my faith in something I just can't quite want to believe is true? Would that even be true faith? Maybe that gut feeling I have that God must be better than that, that ticking in my conscience that the universe just cannot work that way, that intuition that there is something I'm missing, maybe that's the Holy Spirit? Can anyone really say otherwise? And why should I not want there to be something better? What if salvation were something so much more than just going to Heaven? What if God really does love everyone--and not just love as in have good feeling towards, but actively and successfully pursuing their benefit? What if being a Christian actually played out the way we say it does? What if it actually played out better?
Never fear though. The gut feeling has motivated me, driven me in my search for the Truth, but it has not always sent me down the right path. It has pushed me, but I have had to use my reason and a sense of humility to make any progress (and the humility does not come easily). I hope to continue this blog with more reasoned arguments. But you should know the thing that started it all. A deep-in-my-gut feeling that something just isn't right.
There are parts of me that are almost certainly a product of my family. Would I even be a Christian today had my family not started me in that belief system? We also have a long tradition of camping (the summer camp kind of camping, but also just tent camping) on both sides of my family. Without any intention of getting here, I find myself working at a camp now as my career. There are also certainly parts of me that are a product of my culture. I am very individualistic. I strive to be happy, comfortable and free. I tend to see the world in very concrete terms. So much so that even my spirituality has been a struggle at times, even if I couldn't ignore it in the end. And there are parts of me that come from my religious heritage, a evangelical protestant church. I love to define God and all that is spiritual. I have a strong commitment to the scriptures and a conviction that the Spirit will lead us all into the Truth. I know that I am saved through faith alone, by grace alone through Christ alone.
I know that my readers will read those traits and think of all of them positively. They are some of the things that are central to being a Maki, being an American, being a Christian. But my view of many of those things is changing, has been changing for a long time. I don't think I would disagree with any of them yet, but what I mean when I say them doesn't mean the same thing that my protestant friends and family mean anymore. I know this because as I've tried to explain some of the things I've been thinking to them, I get nods of agreement to things they shouldn't be agreeing to and warnings of doom for things they do not understand. It is my hope, through this blog that I will clarify some of these things, if only for myself.
For lack of any ideas on where else to start, I will start with the thing that has been nagging at me for pretty much forever. Well, maybe not forever. But for at least as long as I've been learning Christian theology. I believe that was the starting point because at that point I started having to wrestle with the Truth of Scripture, as it was taught by my church. While I don't remember voicing it very often, there seemed to be a gap between what we wanted to believe about God and what our theology actually stated about God. What I mean by that is that I was always taught that God is Love. That's a verse right out of scripture and I don't know any Christians of any flavor that would disagree with it (though I imagine that they exist). What I learned in theology though, didn't seem like God was Love. It usually sounds like this: "God is Love, but he is also Just". Which I guess is technically true, but isn't from a Bible verse. And the rest of scripture was very difficult to understand in light of a loving God as well. The God that was taught to me through my church's interpretation of the scripture wanted to be loving, but was held back by his sense of Honor. His devotion to justice is more powerful than his devotion to Love. And ultimately what God really wants to be is to be recognized as the greatest, the biggest, the best. And so he chose favorites, destroyed civilizations and threatened doom upon anyone who would threaten his Glory--all the while really really wanting to love us. Fortuantly he had a plan that would meet his Justice and it involved sacrificing his son. Which, don't get me wrong, is a very loving thing to do. But he only had to do it in order to satisfy the demands of his own pride, which seems strange since his own Son taught us to get rid of all our pride. In fact what Scripture teaches us about Love, and it does so quite explicitly, can't be applied to the Father. The Father does not love self-sacrificially. He only loves conditionally, as defined by his Justice. And to make it worse, the only one he's willing to sacrifice is his own son.
Ok, I'm characterizing a little bit. Please trust me when I say I know all the answers to these lines of thought. God is the only being in the universe for whom pride and Glory are ok for because he is the ultimate being, the creator of all. That kind of makes sense to me I suppose. His justice is important. A lovey-dovey god who just lets us walk all over him would be impotent and embarassing. I agree. Sacrificing your son is a kind of self-sacrifice. Well, I suppose so. In any case, I get it. I'm trained to be a pastor, remember? But it just never set right with me.
And that's where everyone is going to jump all over me. "It just doesn't seem right?" they'll ask. "You can't base your beliefs about God on what you feel," they'll smirk. But what else am I to do? I know quite rationally that things I think quite rational now are the very things I thought quite irrational not that long ago. So I can't trust my rationality. "Faith", they'll say. But faith in what? Why would I place my faith in something I just can't quite want to believe is true? Would that even be true faith? Maybe that gut feeling I have that God must be better than that, that ticking in my conscience that the universe just cannot work that way, that intuition that there is something I'm missing, maybe that's the Holy Spirit? Can anyone really say otherwise? And why should I not want there to be something better? What if salvation were something so much more than just going to Heaven? What if God really does love everyone--and not just love as in have good feeling towards, but actively and successfully pursuing their benefit? What if being a Christian actually played out the way we say it does? What if it actually played out better?
Never fear though. The gut feeling has motivated me, driven me in my search for the Truth, but it has not always sent me down the right path. It has pushed me, but I have had to use my reason and a sense of humility to make any progress (and the humility does not come easily). I hope to continue this blog with more reasoned arguments. But you should know the thing that started it all. A deep-in-my-gut feeling that something just isn't right.
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