No Apologies, Part One – Why you should say No to those who say they’re sorry.

Feel free to submit in triplicate to the offended party.

I’m tired of hearing “I’m sorry.” Before you apologize for having said “I’m sorry,” please bear with my own apology for being so slow to admit how annoying I find it. In part, it’s because I’ve lost patience with those who abuse the privilege. So many apologize so constantly for repeating the same bad behaviors that I’ve come to recognize three particular kinds of apology—and I believe we are best served by declining, rejecting, or even rebuking each of them.

Not the most popular rack at Hallmark. Most prefer to write their own.

The Non-Apology Apology – Sports fans and other celebrity-cultists quickly become familiar with the non-apology apology. There are several phrasings, but the blame-shifting remains the same. You’ve heard, no doubt, some form of “I apologize to anyone who may have been hurt by reports of my actions.” Clearly, the fault lies not with the perpetrator of domestic violence, sexual assault, drunk driving, racist ranting, or whatever other egregious behavior is in view. No, the problem is caused either by those who reported the actions or, just as frequently, those whose sensibilities are too fragile to withstand another onslaught against their hopes for upholding basic societal standards.

This would make a nice insert with your choice of card from above.

The non-apology apology is the most popular of the apologies, mostly because each instance is broadcast to millions of potential imitators. Others, like the two below, are experienced more personally.

The Apology as Reset-Button – If you’ve been offered a series of apologies, each one more elaborate, for behaviors that become more egregious with each new instance, then you likely recognize the pattern that accompanies abusive, bullying, or otherwise manipulative relationships. You recognize the echoes of “I’m so sorry. That will never happen again.” You also know the threat or pain that prohibits you from pointing out that it has happened again. Early on, perhaps you incurred the protest, “Why do you keep bringing that up? I said I’m sorry that I do that.” Now, you see no need to hear again that “You need to learn to accept it; that’s just how I am.” You’re supposed to have reset your level of tolerance for another’s behavior to accept yet another new low. You can still object, but only when behaviors surpass the severity of those already apologized for (no matter how often the behavior is repeated). In fact, you’ve probably been made to apologize for pointing out that the other person’s prior apologies appear to have effected no change in their behavior.

Apology Bingo: Works just as well with "Law and Order" episodes
as it does with ESPN's Sportcenter.

Declining to accept an apology seems impolite, but please don’t apologize. Not even if you want to use this last type of apology and tell me why you don’t really need to apologize at all.

The Rationalizing Apology – This pattern actually comes closest to the classic definitions of “apology” as providing a defense or explanation for one’s behavior. The reason I recommend rejecting it as an apology is that it eludes any responsibility for changing that behavior, especially around the person to whom the behavior is being explained. “You know I would never have done that if I hadn’t been so…” angry, or drunk, or tired, or stressed, or surprised, or whatever other mitigating factors explain and excuse my decision to behave badly toward you. Often, this apology saddles the person who is supposed to accept the apology with the responsibility for the bad behavior. If you don’t want to endure it again, then you must change the circumstances that led to it. This differs from the Non-Apology Apology in that it admits that the behavior itself is offensive or damaging. But in some ways it is worse, shifting responsibility and all but guaranteeing a repetition of the behavior at whatever point circumstances warrant it.

Am I saying that you should not accept an apology? Yes. Am I saying not to forgive those who say, “I’m sorry,” especially if they repeat it often? Yes. But if we were to refuse one another’s apologies, then what do we do about the misunderstandings, offenses and other damage we do in the course of our relationships?

We’ll discuss that in part two.

But you should be warned: Part Two gets even more direct about the alternative to apologies.

The Power of Being Meek: How can you threaten to ruin those already in ruins?

Which do you see? Man? Or mouse?

For the first half-hour of the conversation, I felt reasonably certain that I was being lied to. The caller represented himself as having insights and purposes that were at odds with a course of ministry I had pursued. He said that he was aware and actively pursuing a course of action with which my efforts were interfering. He had specific demands of me. But when I asked what goals or outcomes he felt his work was intended to accomplish, he admitted he had no vision for any positive results in the lives of those whom we were discussing. And that’s when the conversation took a turn for the…less-than-pleasant.

I was only reasonably certain that his portrayal was inaccurate, until he offered to lie about me. Of course, it wasn’t an overt threat. “You know, someone could say….” And yes, they could. If they said it to anyone who knows me at all, it’s hard to imagine they could retain any realistic hopes of being taken seriously about that or any other subject in the future. And yet, in discussing the conversation with my wife (who was hearing my half, and most of the other half of the discussion), we realized: similar accusations had ruined others.

And still the threat didn’t concern me. I’ve given significant thought to my reasons why. Here’s what I concluded.

First, I believe that my confidence has nothing to do with being “above reproach.” I am very aware of my fallibility. I could recount many clever and creative ways in which the enemy of our souls seeks and succeeds in tripping me with temptations of both the unexpected and obvious types. I cannot claim that any accusation could be said to be impossible. I could make any number of serious errors, some of which could be devastating to my ministry, my family, and my own walk with Christ. And yet, were that to happen, or if false accusations were made and believed—this is my second conclusion—I believe strongly that they could never ruin me.

"Here I come to save the day?"

On what do I base such an audacious claim? Simply this: I am already ruined. The life I once lived so freely in the flesh is the subject of relentless demolition. It stubbornly resists being razed, but my intent is to have the site as cleared and leveled as possible by the time Christ is done with me. The point of my claim to be “your servant for Jesus’ sake” (II Corinthians 4:5) is to acknowledge that God’s resources and others’ needs require only that I locate myself in the gap between the two. Whatever I may have to offer is only what I have myself received from God. The rest, although not yet perfectly so, I intend to leave in ruins.

What are my hopes in return for these efforts to provide a vacant lot for Jesus’ construction project? Ironically, I find Jesus promising me something that is already relatively in ruins and only becomes more so each day.

Jesus says, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” A friend and colleague recently asked, can you be “meek” without being “weak?”[1] Of course you can. In fact, the very nature of being meek involves a conscious decision to refrain from using one’s natural strength, whether physical, emotional, mental, socio-economic, or even spiritual.

Beware of men in mice's clothing.

Who brings about this restraint? Is it externally enforced? Or is it a self-initiated exercise of personal power to limit or eliminate the use of one’s personal power? Ancient Greek texts use the word “meek” in reference to powerful animals brought under control by a bridle or yoke, but even there the emphasis is on soothing or calming “those that are irritated or excited.”[2] Biblically, the term is used in both testaments to reference those who fulfill a subsidiary role in a household or other relationship—those who know where they fit into the plan and purpose of the whole. Whether as a disciple under a rabbi, or in more modern contexts as a team member under a coach, the sense is of one who understands their place among others, without “being overly impressed by a sense of one’s self-importance.”[3]

I believe that I am privileged to serve a God who is seeking to accomplish His purposes. That He chooses to do so through fallible human beings still amazes me. In fact, I find it a ludicrously inadequate approach to doing business. But that’s all the more reason to tear down the façade, the framework, and the very foundation of anything, or anyone—even myself—that threatens to stand in the way of what God is seeking to do.

---

[1] This is the subject of a recent post by Paul Louis Metzger. You can find it here.

[2] Kittel, prauV

[3] BDAG, prauV

Morbid, Risque and Christian – What do you let art do to you? What do you hope your art will do to others?

Can you envision
Trinitarian Personhood?

My aim in this post is to encourage Christian art and artists. I believe that my criticism of critical Christians is a necessary means to that end. But Christian art critics, those who engage and exegete culture and the arts, both within and outside the boundaries of “Christian” art should, I hope, also find support and encouragement.

Randy Elrod

Randy Elrod[1] writes, “If you are an artist who also happens to be a Christian, expect to be judged and misunderstood.” In his experience, that misunderstanding and judgment is most likely to come from Christians who require any artistic expression to be “neatly wrapped up with a ‘happy ending,’” creating “art that is propaganda, and art that is shallow and without layers of meaning.”

Given the layers of meaning some assign to my art, even my preaching, I’m apparently doing something right. For example, I’m very fond of an image that intended to depict ecstatic abandon in worship. A friend of the model referred to it instead as “that one where you’re ‘possessed.’” It’s not just my photography, either. 

"Jesus, lift me up..."

After a sermon that had been clearly and repeatedly announced in advance, including the subject being “PG-13” in nature, the critique was initially that “we’re not used to hearing those words in church.” When I explained that I had very carefully selected accurate and inoffensive terminology, the clarification was that “we’re not used to that topic being discussed in church.” Being an expository preacher, covering whole books of the Bible section-by-section, I could not resist asking whether they saw any other topic being covered in the scheduled passage.

That conversation ended well. Others have not. And so, I still face the temptation to skip over or allegorize those passages where God chooses to deal with areas that “we” would prefer to ignore. Most usually, it is death and dying, or sexuality and marriage that provokes such a reaction. But in an independent, non-denominational community church that seeks to practice theology-in-community, and where our backgrounds and traditions vary widely, the landmines can be all but invisible until you step on them.

"It was right here a moment ago."

As a photographer, too, I find that there are times when an image just needs to be created or, when less premeditated, captured in the moment. Those images to be created often involve human persons, themselves created to bear the image and likeness of the one God eternally existing in three persons. In those instances, I feel compelled to negotiate carefully with my collaborators. I try to be clear about their sensibilities and boundaries, and ensure that their comfort levels are honored. Why? Imagine seeing an image of you being portrayed either as dead or as death itself. That experience could provoke an even stronger reaction than when the homecoming princess finally sees why her mother doesn’t agree with her fashion decisions. It’s best to be warned and prepared in advance.

"Sleeping Beauty in Black"

The results of our collaboration, though, occasionally inspire wrath from friends and family. How severely? According one model’s boyfriend, we were “gonna burn in hell cause he is a pastor and believes in taking risqué photos.” (I did withhold my response of “wait ‘til he sees the morbid ones!” but I did allow myself to visit his Facebook page. His own photographic artistry includes obscene gestures, misogynistic intimidation, drug use, and a particularly interesting nude of himself reclining on an American flag. But there I go, criticizing the critic. Back to the subject at hand.)

"See who He is; see who you are."

Most of my readers and hearers know that I prefer the question “What would Jesus have me do?” But it does have its foundation in emulating “What would Jesus do?” So, does the Artist who created the universe as an expression of His character and attributes understand these misunderstandings? Absolutely. The Apostle Paul writes, “For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened.”[2]

So, dare we risk misunderstanding? The only alternative is to deny the creativity in us as part of God’s image and likeness. Instead, I believe, we should ask “is there place for art that provokes a reaction, while maintaining a boundary this side of impropriety or indecency?” (That is the definition of risqué.) For all the passages in which God includes explicit depictions of sex and death, those topics actually combine as the central theme of the books of Esther and Ruth in particular, and figure heavily in the narratives of Samuel and Kings. Where it is most difficult to focus attention away from the physical nature of romantic relationships is in the marital ode that is The Song of Songs.

Josh McFarland
Hardin, Montana

In his book on The Song of Songs, my colleague and former classmate Josh McFarland[3] lists the following as just some of the blessings of studying Biblical sexuality. “It is part of our revelation from God; it is a necessary component of a healthy worldview; it can release the energy of joy and praise in a new and vital direction; correct and transform our thinking about romance and sexuality; help protect us from lethargic or unworthy thoughts about God’s creation; exalt and enliven couples’ feelings about their relationship; embolden our corporate attitude; confront errors and falsehoods at loose in the world; it can ennoble our understanding of God.”[4]

Do some of my images make you think about sex and/or death? Yes, or at least I hope so. But more importantly, I hope they make you think about what you think about sex and/or death. Why? Because the damage our silence is doing to subsequent generations[5] especially by our silence on sexuality, but equally so regarding death and dying, continues to spread throughout the church and the communities we are called to serve. If we do not consider these subjects (sexuality and marriage, and/or death and dying) within the Church, then we have little standing from which to criticize the conclusions being reached about them in our surrounding communities and culture.

What happens when we decide to ignore these subjects?

Roger Ebert
More than just a movie critic.

The late film critic Roger Ebert is, in my opinion, underestimated as both an exegete of culture and a religious philosopher. I am often inspired by his reflections on the messages being preached by plot, dialogue, imagery, structure, and other elements of films throughout history. Here is his observation of the effects risqué and morbid art can and should have on us: “Of course the movie is rated NC-17. I believe more horror films should be made for adults, so that they are free to deal with true malevolence in the world, instead of retailing the pornography of violence without consequences. A generation is growing up that equates violence with action, instead of with harm. Not long ago The Exorcist was re-released and some young moviegoers laughed all the way through it. A society that laughs at evil eventually laughs at good, and then loses its way.”[6]

"Sincerely Skeptical"

For Christians to restrain their own artistic expression, or to refrain from addressing certain topics, is to tear down the clearest signposts pointing to The Way we hope that more in our society will find. The arts provide us with the most direct conduit into our hearts and thus our culture. If my art gives us a reason to discuss these indispensably important issues, then I’ll gladly weather the critiques, and the criticism. I hope you choose to do so, too.

---

[1] Randy Elrod is formerly Pastor of the Arts at a Southern Baptist megachurch in Franklin, Tennessee. His post is entitled “Three Reasons Why Christians Art Creating More ‘Edgy’ Art” and can be found here.

[2] Romans 1:20-21, New American Standard Bible, 1995 revision.

[3] Josh serves a Christian and Missionary Alliance congregation in Hardin, Montana and holds a Master’s of Divinity from A.W. Tozer Theological Seminary.

[4] Josh McFarland, Pieces of Eden: Reflections on Romance and the Love of God from the Song of Songs (Bloomington, Indiana: Westbow Press, 2015), xi.

[5] Josh McDowell and Dick Day, Why Wait? What you need to know about the Teen Sexuality Crisis (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1994).

[6] Roger Ebert, “Santa Sangre,” The Great Movies III (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2010), 346.

An Image Problem or an Essence Problem: What is wrong with us Christians? – Part Three, Why I Am an Evangelical – and Why I Am Often Reluctant to Say So

Paul Louis Metzger

As part of our doctoral studies at Multnomah Biblical Seminary, we have been intensely exploring The Beatitudes, the statements of blessing Jesus pronounced at the very beginning of The Sermon on the Mount in the fifth through seventh chapters of Matthew’s gospel. To say they are considered to be counter-intuitive would be an understatement. But for some of us, certain ones seem to make more sense, to reflect our experience, or to explain our perceptions more resonantly than others. As a certified Thanatologist (Thus being “Death Pastor,” studying, teaching and counseling in death, dying, bereavement, grief and mourning.), I get the “blessed are those who mourn,” since I often work with those who have been told to suppress any expressions of grief following their loss. Being allowed to openly mourn would be a great blessing for many of us.

But Jesus starts with what seems to me like a direct contradiction. Being blessed suggests receiving spiritual equity of some kind. So, being “poor in spirit” would be involve a very brief interlude of “spiritual poverty” before a blessing replenished the account. In discussing this Beatitude, Paul Louis Metzger contrasts our tendency in the 21^st Century North American Church “‘can do anything’ attitude” that embodies a “sense of optimism and an unconquerable spirit.” I share Dr. Metzger’s perception. I regularly face the frustrations serving those whose spiritual arrogance deludes them into selectively proof-texting from scripture and drawing from multiple, conflicting theologies in order to support whatever beliefs and behaviors they seek to rationalize.

Marvin Lee Aday
(aka Meat Loaf)

It is possible, however, that I so readily recognize their pride because of my own sense of spiritual poverty. In hopes of helping you to understand my struggles in this area, let me share a few things that resonate with me.

One of them is a song, “Objects in the Rearview Mirror,” by Jim Steinman. In it, the performer Meat Loaf (originally Marvin Lee Aday) sings of those memories that reach out at us from our past. Of a tragically killed High School friend: “There are times I think I see him peeling out of the dark; I think he’s right behind me now and he’s gaining ground.” Of his “dangerous and drunk and defeated” abusive father: “And though the nightmares should be over, some of the terrors are still intact; I’ll hear that ugly, coarse and violent voice, and then he grabs me from behind and then he pulls me back.”

Mark Hall of Casting Crowns

Another, more recent song written by Mark Hall and Bernie Herms and recorded by Casting Crowns is entitled “East to West.” Contemplating how “the chains of yesterday surround me,” the lyrics haunt me every time the chorus proclaims, “I can’t bear to see the man I’ve been come rising up in me again,” which only reinforces my frequent feeling that “I’m just one mistake away from You leaving me this way.”

Then, just last week, I read a film review by the late Roger Ebert in which he discusses the genre “film noir” and writes, “The noir hero is never good, just kidding himself, living in ignorance of his dark side until events demonstrate it to him.” That is my fear. And it is two-fold.

The late Roger Ebert

One way that my fear of my “dark side” manifests itself is in the potential for sudden, unanticipated temptation. God promises a way of escape so that I can endure any temptation (I Corinthians 10:13), but I also know that I have made impulsive decisions before. I am not immune to the excuse, “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.” And although I am aware of many areas in which temptations of my past try to use the long-abandoned tracks, I occasionally find myself drawn to the bright light of what I know from sad experience to be the same oncoming train.

"Misty, water-colored memories..."
of what I fear may be "The Way I Still Am"

But here is another “dark side” where the manifestations seem much more frequent and severe. And the fact that I don’t see them in myself worries me greatly. As I’ve been contemplating Jared Champion’s blog post (here’s the link again), I’ve acknowledged that there is much in Evangelicalism that does exhibit a “message of anger, intolerance, and fear.” My greatest concern, however, is not that I might be found guilty by association with others claiming to be Evangelicals. (That is, of course, something I’m used to experiencing. But similar issues would apply to whatever label or category might apply to me.) What I fear most is that I remain oblivious to stereotypes, prejudices and preferences that color my devotion to God, my study of scripture and my service of others (which I am careful to note is to be Christ’s service in and through me toward others—II Corinthians 4:5).

And yet, I cannot help but see that I am being transformed
more and more each day by the One on Whom I choose
to fix my gaze.

But to conclude this episode in my contemplations, I do need to clarify for some that I am an Evangelical. Whatever that term may mean to others, and whomever may misappropriate the term for their own socio-economic, political, or other uses, the definitions of Evangelical apply to me. I might choose other words in some cases. And I definitely believe far more than what is stated in the shorter versions. But I do understand that they must often be minimalist in order to be inclusive of all Evangelicals. If you’re interested in specific details of what the term means, perhaps the most comprehensive is that of The Lausanne Movement, and among the shortest is that of the National Association of Evangelicals.

Here's hoping that you, too, may see the King.

An upcoming teaching series called “Stumpers” will provide an opportunity for those attending Adult Bible Study at The Glenburn Community Church to inquire about my stance on the Trinity, Jesus Christ, the Holy Bible, the Atonement, the Holy Spirit, the Afterlife, and the Unity of The Church. If you’re not within a Sunday’s drive to the heart of the Fall River Valley, please feel free to ask about any of those issues, or others, in the comment section below.

But my hope is that more will ask about how it is that an Evangelical who believes in the exclusivity of the gospel of Jesus Christ is able to reconcile the inclusivity of doing theology-in-community, much less engaging in community-service ministry. If someone asks, there’s probably a blog-post to be said about that as well.

An Image Problem or an Essence Problem: What is wrong with us Christians? – Part Two, An Evangelical’s Admission to Anger, Intolerance and Fear…Primarily toward Evangelicals

This is the simplest, easiest, and most problematic
way of looking at Christian unity and diversity. We're all
playing, but usually against each other.

Following up further on Dr. Jared Champion’s first post in his new blog (you can find it here), I want to explore his perception (which I share) that the Evangelicals he refers to as “mainstream Christianity” exhibit a “message of anger, intolerance, and fear,” in contrast to progressive Christians’ “patient grace, unwavering love, and critical engagement.” As a doctoral student in Cross-Cultural Engagement, I might object slightly to the mutual exclusivity of the dichotomy he poses. But I am too much in agreement to do so. Additionally, I recognize too much of one and too little of the other in myself.

In my confrontation of the anger, intolerance and fear too prevalent among Christians, I grow impatient and can fail to be gracious toward my fellow Evangelicals. My love does waver when I must wearily persist in pointing to Jesus’ pairing of both the great commandment (i.e., love for God and love for others is stated as a single commandment – Matthew 22:36-40 – “the second is like it,” in the sense of being of the same character and substance as the first) and the great commission (Matthew 28:18-20 – in which the result is to be that others follow that single commandment).

Here is what Christianity begins to look like when we begin
to recognize the diversity of backgrounds, traditions, dogma
and ritual among our brothers and sisters.

As much as I want to critically engage anti-intellectual demagogues among my own tribe (I am an Evangelical, after all), I can barely pretend to tolerate the proof-texting and cherry-picking and socio-economic, cultural, and political filtering of scripture by those who seek justification for the oppression and exploitation of other human persons (not to mention the rest of God’s creation). Further, I do fear that we, meaning mainstream, Evangelical Christians, often obscure the message of Jesus, whether in passages anticipating the Messiah yet to come (the Old Testament), or the Messiah who came (as told in the New Testament).

The message of Jesus—this gospel, the good news—was first proclaimed, according to Genesis 3, in the Garden of Eden, and is the consistent message of scripture up to and including the final judgments and eternal state described in the last chapters of Revelation. My anger, intolerance and fear, then, are directed primarily at those who claim to be Bible teachers who teach only “how the Bible supports our beliefs.”

To me, this is the primary reason I have such difficulty in accepting
the diversity among Christians, even as I claim to seek unity
among the congregations and denominations in the body of Christ.

I may be projecting my own perspective onto Dr. Champion’s thoughts. But I see him offering a confrontation of both progressive and Evangelical Christians regarding one of very few issues in which they would agree. My experience is that both progressive and fundamentalist Christians discourage a robust engagement with the text of the Holy Bible. For progressives, the fear seems to be that we will emulate parts of the scripture that are extraneous, or even contradictory to what we perceive to be the core message of Jesus. For fundamentalists, the fear seems to be that we will emulate parts of the core message of Jesus that, in their theology, are only applicable when fulfilled after the end of history.

Progressives seem afraid to find that the scriptures are more complex than we’d prefer. This would suggest that we are responsible for more than simply loving others in whatever way we choose to define love, refusing to acknowledge that our definition of love is often limited in service of our own selfishness, given our fallen human nature. In contrast, Fundamentalists seem afraid that we’ll find the scriptures are more comprehensive than the proof-text memorizations that support “what we all know the Bible says.” Were we to acknowledge that God’s love applies more broadly than we allow, our redaction of the text, omitting so much that disagrees with our preconceptions, would confront the service of our selfishness as well.

Multiply the complexity of this image by something like BILLIONS of
times, and you might have some parallel to how God sees The Church.

The solution for both camps: study the scriptures, acknowledge the fullness of Jesus’ message, and recognize our reluctance to either narrow our focus or broaden our love as rooted in our own self-protection, self-provision, and self-ishness—all of which stem from a lack of trust in the benevolence of God’s sovereign justice, mercy, and grace.

But returning to answer Dr. Champion’s primary concern, the public relations crisis facing Jesus’ followers (whatever banner they may camp under), I would suggest that popularity has never been Jesus’ concern. Still, though, when the public relations crisis results from misrepresenting the good news He lived and died and rose again to bring us…that is what we should work toward fixing!

An Image Problem or an Essence Problem: What is wrong with us Christians? – Part One, Introducing Dr. Jared Champion’s Blog

Dr. Jared Champion

A few years ago, I had the privilege of sharing a post-funeral dinner with a small group of truly remarkable and uniquely fascinating people. Our overlapping backgrounds intersected more acutely than could be explained by our tangential relationships to the same small handful of lives (a handful recently diminished by a count of one). As we commemorated and commiserated, I recognized other mutual influences as well. Around that life which we celebrated and mourned, some exceptionally meaningful events in my life had been centered. Perhaps that heightened the impact of those conversations, the stories told, and the bonds I felt, some renewed and others newly established. But I have cherished the memory of that evening, and the privilege of being included in it, ever since.

Most of these whom I admire so greatly are scattered inconveniently throughout the northern half of California, and the most academically-focused of them is even less accessible, serving as an assistant professor near the far diagonal corner of these United States. Few of them even post as regularly to Facebook as I’d like. When they do, though, it is a treat. As one who finds that being a theologically-conservative Evangelical requires what many consider to be socially, politically, and especially economically liberal positions, when the academic in question chooses to post, I find it both thoughtful and thought-provoking and thus especially welcome.

And now he has a blog.

As a way of introducing you to it, and engaging in the “constructive discourse” Jared Champion invites in his first post, I’ll start with a quick commentary on the twelve recommendations he makes for correcting the image problem we face in “mainstream Christianity” (by which he means Evangelicalism, not “mainline” denominations). He offers them to us as a way to “clean up their image without sacrificing their core beliefs.” I hope that in taking issue with some of his points, the bulge between my bicuspids will be evident. (Impressed by my own cleverness, I’m leaving that last phrase in. But for the sake of clarity: “Please take the following ‘corrections’ of Dr. Champion’s recommendations as being ‘tongue in cheek.’”)

Dr. Champion begins by suggesting that we in mainstream Christianity “Stop focusing on rules, start focusing on joy.” I could not disagree more. But rather than focusing on any number of rules that we presume to apply to others, there are rules we would find exceptionally helpful if we understood that they undergird anything remotely resembling the joy of knowing that we are in the process of finding, fulfilling, and finding our fulfillment as we are restored toward the image and likeness of a holy God (Genesis 1:27; Ephesians 2:10). There are, in Jesus’ words, two parts to the single great commandment (In Matthew 22:36-40, when Jesus says the second is “like” the first, it is not a comparison of similar statements, but a statement of the same character and substance as the first). To love the Lord our God with all our heart, mind, soul and strength cannot but include loving our neighbor, every neighbor, as we love ourselves. Even the most arcane regulations of scripture, dismissed as being anachronistic at best, serve to bring about the fulfillment on which joy depends—if our joy is anything like that of Jesus.

The second recommendation, “Abandon the victim-narrative,” is already practiced ubiquitously among Evangelicals. Not that Dr. Champion is mistaken about the simpering whine that emanates from those for whom the joy of the Lord should be their strength. But most Evangelicals are immersed in not only their religious privilege but white privilege, militarized privilege, and socio-economic privilege as well. The result is that anytime we encounter the narratives of victims, those oppressed, exploited, dehumanized and destroyed by our avaricious luxury, we abandon the conversation, the community, and any individual person in need. “They deserve their fate,” some claim. Other believe “it’s all about the drug abuse” or “the promiscuity” or “laziness” or “fast food” or “public schools,” etc. And so we allow the prevailing fantasy to continue: “They can stop being poor anytime they choose.”

Thankful for the opportunity to do more "theology in community."

I would enjoy pursuing the other ten recommendations with similar ironies and absurdities. And I believe it could be done entertainingly enough to warrant reading an extra thousand words or so. But I want to be sure my point is not lost in the process. So, here it is: Dr. Champion comes to many of the same conclusions I do. But how can that be? In confronting the “message of anger, intolerance, and fear” evident in mainstream Christianity, he identifies himself with the “progressive Christians” who show “patient grace, unwavering love, and critical engagement.” I identify myself (frequently with reluctance, I admit) as a theologically-conservative Evangelical and as one, I must admit, I do frequently express “anger, intolerance, and fear,” and am impatient, ungracious, and inconsistent in my love for those with whom I critically engage.

Why? Well, that deserves its own post. Tune in to part two for more, and be sure to check out Dr. Champion’s blog in the meantime! You can find it here.