The Repentance-Resistant Strains of Sin

Sin is anaerobic. Exposed, it can be treated. In fact, it usually starves. Concealed, however, it grows and deepens, eating away whatever it has found that is willing to host it.

That said, I am often arrogant, judgmental, quick to criticize without seeking to understand another's position, and guilty of using big words in order to silence potential objections to my own positions. There's more to that list, but in this context, those are the most germane. (See, there's that vocabulary thing again.)

Still, there are sins that are evident to me precisely because of my own struggles with them. And there are others that become obvious due to the pain they cause others. Most of those I recognize, however, are the ones that harm, threaten, or even simply annoy me.

As is often noted, Christians are not perfect. But we are not “just forgiven.” When confronted with our sins, we are repentant; we confess; and we seek restoration through forgiveness. We sometimes are woefully ignorant of the harm caused by our attitudes and actions, until someone loves us enough to point them out. Our reaction to that revelation of our imperfections, misunderstandings, and/or unfortunate choices (and especially our willful sins) depends in large part upon our willingness to trust Christ to bring a greater level of maturity to our dependence upon His righteousness, as opposed to defending our own self-righteousness.

Here’s a brief case-study that you may already have been forced to consider by some of your Facebook friends.

Yesterday, a Facebook post by Pastor Rick Warren ignited significant criticism from Chinese believers and church leaders. It also resulted in almost universal support (3,955 “likes” as of 4:00 a.m. today) from non-Chinese, primarily Anglo “followers” of Pastor Warren. (For those outside the confines of Evangelical culture, Pastor Warren is famous as the founder of Saddleback Community Church, a mega-church originally programmed on the basis of then-innovative market-research into the “felt needs” of “Saddleback Sam…married to Samantha, and…two kids, Steve and Sally.”)

Using the confident, can-do attitude embodied by a young woman’s posterized image as his icon, Pastor Warren posted: “The typical attitude of Saddleback Staff as they start work each day.” A very clever, even cute comment, evidently intended to encourage a sense of comrade-ry…which is ironic since the young woman depicted actually is a “comrade,” wearing the uniform and armband of Communist China’s Red Guard. For a clearer understanding of how offensive this image is, I would refer you first to Dr. Sam Tsang’s post,  at “Rick Warren, Cultural Sensitivity, and Mission,” http://engagethepews.wordpress.com/2013/09/23/rick-warren-cultural-sensitivity-and-mission/comment-page-1/#comment-283.

What concerns me in the context of conflict resolution and relational reconciliation (the goals of the protocol that Jesus gives us in Matthew 18:15-18) is the response Pastor Warren offers to those shocked by his insensitivity (perhaps initially through simple ignorance) regarding the image’s impact on so many. He wrote, “People often miss irony on the Internet. It's a joke people! If you take this seriously, you really shouldn't be following me! Did you know that, using Hebrew ironic humor, Jesus inserted several laugh lines- jokes - in the Sermon on the Mount? The self-righteous missed them all while the disciples were undoubtedly giggling!”

If I may, let me suggest to the nearly 4000 who “like” the inflammatory post that they should take this seriously, and really shouldn’t be following Pastor Warren. (Even if repentance, confession, and forgiveness result in restoration—follow Jesus instead, okay?) If the point is still lost on those who have little or no sense of Chinese history, perhaps we might recognize that the following Hebrew irony should be just as unthinkable.

“Saddleback Suzie can hardly wait to turn ten and join the Warren-Youth.”

If this were hanging on Saddleback’s walls, 

would we then be “undoubtedly giggling?”

"Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor...Your Geckos"

My friend and fellow-doctoral student Greg Dueker posted this photo, with the following description:

Is the Egret more guilty than we who stand idly by?

“This bird looks innocent enough, like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. But he isn't ... I call him ‘Gecko-bane’ for he was hunting lizards with a vengeance. Saw him eat three in just a couple of minutes Thursday.”

It reminded me yet again of the terrible injustices facing our world, and prompted me to comment. Here is the result:

“GIVE ME YOUR TIRED, YOUR POOR…YOUR GECKOS.”

There's a parallel here.

Just because we know that some geckos have succeeded in attaining high-paid corporate mascot positions, we must never forget that the vast majority of geckos continue in constant fear and substandard living conditions.

The perception that the extraordinary wealth of some within the gecko community should translate into a greater quality of life for all geckos does not bear close scrutiny. In fact, the mistaken assumption that all geckos even have the chance to attain to even basic educational opportunities should be as offensive and angering to all of us as it is to the nameless, faceless, and voiceless geckos we pass by every day.

There's no such thing as being Gecko-Blind. We simply refuse to acknowledge and act on what we clearly see.

In my reading and research, I am finding that there seems to be a mechanism behind racialization as just one of several ways in which we identify ourselves as being “not” someone or something else. This often includes scapegoating some presumed grouping of individuals or families unlike us, blaming some combination of injustices on them. But frequently it is a simply matter of lazy xenophobia. We are simply unwilling to expend the effort and invest the time necessary to meet, much less become acquainted with and come to understand those unlike “us.”

 

The labels we use vary, as do the groups we blame. But for most of us, when we become acquainted with individuals from within a particular population, we classify them as the exception to our stereotype. “You know, I never really think of you as being Geckish.” (You can substitute the stereotypical label of your choice.) It especially helps if they have a cute Aussie or Kiwi or Tasmanian accent (whichever it’s supposed to be), and even more so if they choose to walk upright on their hind legs, and are already clearly accepted by other affluently well-dressed Anglo males. But as acquainted as we may become with corporate spokes-geckos, until we’re willing to live among them, under the sharp eye of the Snowy Egrets ready to devour them, we aren’t really in a position to claim any knowledge at all of being Geckish.

On Meanness & Its Conquest

The post below was prompted by concerns from others regarding the potential consequences of having allowed myself to be quoted in today’s article in Redding’s local paper, The Record-Searchlight. One friend commented regarding the backlash: “I just know its gonna get very uncomfortable. People are mean. Just plain mean.” I don’t dispute that fact. I am simply seeking to deny its influence on my decisions and dedication. Maybe the following will help you do that, too.

ON MEANNESS & ITS CONQUEST

From prior comments to the earlier Record-Searchlight reports of [former Simpson University President] Dr. McKinney's retirement, to personal e-mails and messages from those who are certain that I've caused irreparable harm (and committed damnable heresy, according to one) by addressing issues "above my pay-grade," and including relatively direct threats to my employment from HR, the Provost's office, and--if I read his memo correctly--the interim president, I think I can speak with some authority on "mean."

As a child, I lived next door to the dog universally feared by everyone in the neighborhood. An immense Saint Bernard, he had been left at the mercy of the only son in the family. It seemed at times (even to my limited seven year-old perceptions) that the kid next door wanted to see how extremely the dog could be injured and still survive. He was apparently unaware that the dog would rather quickly grow to outweigh him by nearly one hundred pounds (even as emaciated as he was allowed to become).

I still pity that poor animal. But if I were there, next to that fence, as an adult, I would still feel justified in respecting the likely outcome of any direct encounter with the dog. I can blame the child, the parents, the adult neighbors who had greater perspective than I did, or any number of other psycho-social factors. But while there is no such thing as a bad dog, this Saint Bernard's reasonable expectation of human beings was that they would harm him badly, should he ever allow them to get close to him. He sought to prevent that. I would never dare try.

For some, the moral of the story, especially in the context of the (probably accurately) perceived dangers of speaking the truth in love (and allowing myself to be quoted as having done so), should be that we are right to distance ourselves, remain silent, and allow the continued degradation of a sin-damaged world to take its unnatural course. I come to a different conclusion (obviously, if you’ve read the article).

In serving the Lord who chose to dwell among such dangerous creatures as we all are, to subject in Himself to all the weakness and temporality we possess, even to the point where He allowed Himself to be murdered by those He had shown the greatest love toward...I (and others) have chosen to get "chewed on."

The cost, if compared with what we truly hold dearest, is inconsequential. The cost, if compared with what has been provided to each of us at Another's expense, is laughable. The benefit, however, is unlikely to accrue to any of us personally.

If there is repentance, confession, forgiveness, and restoration in the Christian community that exists within and around Simpson (or even in the official structures themselves), it will be a result of Another's work, for which we--I believe strongly--will have been tools in the hands of that Mastercraftsman. 

Should we survive (in our jobs, careers, etc.), we should remember that even the most durable implements only remain useful by frequent resharpening--grinding away previously useful portions in order to make what remains more effective. That said, some of those same tools only serve to bind the parts of a structure more firmly when some of the material is sawn, chiseled, drilled, or planed away as well.

In short, we serve in hopes of “restoring integrity in the church by encouraging a culture of repentance,” despite the fact that some of us may no longer be a part of that community when the remodeling is completed. 

Be that as it may, “we are responsible for following Christ; He is responsible for the results and/or consequences.”

Goldilocks Goes to Church

Once upon a time, Goldilocks decided she should finally go to church. It had been a long time since the Three-Bears family invited her. But that was just one of the ways they had been so gracious about that whole breaking-and-entering and vandalism thing, so she was a little embarrassed that she hadn’t gone sooner.

When Goldilocks arrived at First Church of the Forest, the gatekeeper smiled and handed her some paperwork about their church’s services and history. She walked in, down, then back up the center aisle. She asked the man guarding the door if there were other service times, and he asked if she were looking for someone in particular. When she told him, he said, “Oh, the Three-Bears. We loved having them here. But they decided that this wasn’t quite the church for them. We don’t have the kind of ministry they wanted for Baby Bear. In fact, when they insisted, we tried. Papa Bear was very comfortable on one of our hard wooden pews in the back, with Mama Bear saying the padded chair on the end next to it was ‘Just right!’ But when they put Baby Bear in our crib, it broke all to pieces under him.”

Goldilocks nodded sheepishly. “I understand something like that can be quite embarrassing,” she said.

“Last I heard,” said the guard, “they were attending at Creekside.”

Creekside Community Church was a short walk away, but Goldilocks was equally unsuccessful in her search there. The usher there walked her toward a place to sit, but then he noticed Goldilocks looking around. He, too, asked if she were looking for someone, and she told him. He replied, “The Three-Bears? Yes, they attended here for awhile. I must say, they were very active in our fellowship. But they decided this wasn’t quite the church for them. You see, we can’t monitor everything our families bring for refreshments or potlucks. It really seemed that they were going to settle down here. Papa Bear especially enjoyed the music, and Baby Bear thought our Children’s Church services were ‘Just right!’ But Mama Bear found that we couldn’t promise here that everything our folks baked was prepared in all organic and gluten-free kitchens, and, well…several of the women were very sad about how that discussion turned out.” The usher looked away sadly, and then he said, “But I think they’re still attending down at The Meadows.”

Goldilocks looked at her watch and hurried downstream toward The Meadows. The hostess at the door greeted her and asked if this were her first time joining them. Goldilocks said that it was, and that she was trying to track down the Three-Bears family. The hostess’s smile stayed, but the light in her eyes seemed to dim a little as she said, “You know, it’s rare that a family finds much here to be disgruntled about. In fact, it’s such a minor thing, I would have thought it could have been talked through. You know, nothing should prevent people from fellowshipping together. But they only came a few times. I think Baby Bear was glad to have all the attention from our older women. Mama Bear told me how she thought the young mothers’ group was ‘Just right!’ But even though we kept explaining that we’re an open fellowship that respects everyone’s questions, Papa Bear seemed adamant about getting answers. But that’s just not what we do here.” When Goldilocks asked if the hostess knew where the Three-Bears were attending now, she told her they were now holding services in their living room.

That’s how Goldilocks came to find them at what she would have called “The Three-Bears’ House-Church.” They were so very glad to see her, and explained how honored they felt that she had come to visit their fellowship. But noticing that it was only the three of them standing there with her in their living room, Goldilocks couldn’t help but ask who else was attending their House-Church. Mama Bear said, “Well, we’ve invited dozens, of course. And occasionally some have come to visit. Usually just once, though. And we don’t mind. None of them really seemed to fit in. But come in, sit down. The floor seems safe enough for you.” Goldilocks politely laughed at the little joke Mama Bear had told, even if it was at Goldilocks’ expense. (In fact, after they had first met, she had become much more careful about where she sat, and how much she ate, and when she chose to take a nap.) But deep down, Goldilocks knew. She didn’t really trust that she could keep the Three-Bears happy with her, even as forgiving as they seemed to be about her past.

In the end, Goldilocks was thankful that she’d finally found the place where her friends were most comfortable. They knew what they believed (that nobody else believed quite like they did) and that they lived it out faithfully (by avoiding any confusion or conflict as they spent their church-time in the comfort of their own home). But for Goldilocks to join them, or anyone else, would probably disrupt their services.  So, she started having her own, in the quiet of her room, alone. And Goldilocks told herself (since her congregation of one would always agree totally with any decision she made) that whatever she believed or did would always be “Just right!”

THE END

Labyrinthine Transparency and Integrity’s Thin Veneer : What do you say to whom, and when?

I admire my protégé’s transparency, despite it being well-guarded: “I’ll give you an honest answer to any question you have.” It took me a while to recognize the secrecy that allowed, and a little longer to find both the courage and opportunity to say so: “You seem very certain that no one will know what to ask.” And then I asked. And I got answers, openly and honestly.

Others, whose positions I am supposed to respect, admire, and aspire to, have also answered my questions, but only by claiming that their integrity prevents them from answering truthfully.

Administrators of my alma mater (now one of my several employers) have repeatedly declined to pursue Jesus’ prescription for resolving conflict and reconciling relationships (Matthew 18:15-18) on the grounds that Simpson University is “a business providing educational services,” and cannot, therefore, pursue these Biblical processes (even though they are written into their various handbooks for faculty, students, etc.). Balancing scriptural authority against the requirements of California’s state employment laws is a debatable practice, but a challenge commonly faced by Christian non-profits.

Then in February, responding to complaints that they violated the requirements of California’s state employment laws, the same administration has claimed that they are exempt from those standards. As a Christian University, they claim, they apply Biblical processes that should not be held to the same standards as other businesses providing educational services. This position, too, could be debated.

What is not debatable, however, is that two mutually exclusive claims cannot be held as simultaneously true. Simpson University’s administration either does or does not hold to scriptural authority, and it either is or is not accountable to California state employment laws. But they cannot claim they are “none of the above” on the grounds that they are “all of the above.”

So, I admire the transparency of a single mother working to overcome generations of poverty, exploitation, and addiction, and a lifetime of abuse in her family of origin, then a string of foster homes, and more recently by men who found her susceptible to their demands. At the same time, I find reprehensible the duplicity of respected family men holding terminal degrees, receiving six-figure salaries, and presuming upon ninety-two years of heritage to assuage their fears of the transparency that integrity requires.

Simpson in Seattle, in San Francisco, in Redding

 What brought all this to mind? A call from a local reporter. To verify her upcoming series of stories on Simpson University, she asked, “Is there anything I’ve misquoted? Is there anything you want to change about what you’ve said?” She had quoted me accurately, but there will likely be consequences to what I have said. And yet, as difficult as it was to hear her repeat them, not only do I still believe them to be true, I have already said them to those administrators who surely would have corrected me if they could.

The transparency required of integrity means that I have to say what is true, but also that what is true needs to be said.