Will Anyone Pay to Visit My Church?

Posted on September 2, 2014 by smaxreisert

This year’s summer vacation included a two-week trip to Europe. The family and I started in London, a familiar place where we lived for a few months about ten years ago. Then, we were off to Portugal for a week, where we met up with my husband’s family. The last few days were spent in Madrid. Both Portugal and Madrid were new, and exciting, places for us to visit.

Since we really only had two and a half days in London at the start of our trip, we had to be strategic. We couldn’t possibly see everything we wanted to see, so we prioritized and set up a plan. In the end, we managed to accomplish almost all of our top sites—the Tate Britain, the Tate Modern, the National Gallery, the Victoria and Albert Museum, and St. Paul’s Cathedral. We decided to visit St. Paul’s over Westminster Abbey since it was closer to some other sites we wanted to visit and it has a great tower to climb that leads to a commanding view of London.

It was also cheaper.

Both St. Paul’s and Westminster Abbey charge admission to visit. And, the price tag is, in this humble tourist’s opinion, quite steep. For a family of four, Westminster Abbey charges 44 GBP. St. Paul’s charges 40 GBP (about $66 USD). That’s a lot of cash.

I understand the theory behind the decision to charge admission—something that is broadcast loudly and clearly in the admission materials, and in the audio-guide that is available for “free,” once you’ve paid your admission fee. In the U.K., many important cultural and tourist destinations receive government support. The admission charge for such places as the National Gallery, the Victoria and Albert Museum, the Tate Britain and the Tate Modern is voluntary—because they are subsidized by the government. Churches like St. Paul’s, however, are not supported by the government.

Given that places like Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral are popular sites—and they are enormous, cash-sucking machines that need to be maintained and staffed, etc.—I can understand the need to charge admission. But, the high price is striking, nonetheless.

St. Paul’s offers a “free” audio-guide, as well as a guided tour, for visitors. Our family chose just to follow the audio-guide. The guide is a fascinating mix of history, theology and factual tidbits about the church. On the one hand, the church is committed to helping a diversity of people encounter the “transforming presence of God in Jesus Christ,” but on the other hand it is tied inexorably to the royal family, and other famous people (the audio-guide offers several examples). On the one hand, it places its baptism font at the entrance to the church, signaling baptism as the beginning of the journey for Christians (“promoting dignity and justice for everyone”), but on the other hand, that baptism font is an enormous piece made of rare, expensive Italian marble.

It’s like St. Paul’s wants you to know all about the “transforming love of God through Jesus Christ,” but to also feel fortunate that you are walking upon the same ground as the royal family, and other famous people. Yes, they strongly encourage visitors to take a seat in the ginormous sanctuary, and to reflect (whether or not you are a Christian—the guide is sensitively set up not to assume that the visitor knows anything about Christianity), and to wish you a renewed sense of peace and connection before you leave. But, don’t forget that even the royals turn to St. Paul’s.

I wonder if the royal family is chipping in for the cost of maintenance and upkeep? Are all of those “famous” people that the church likes to reference, are they contributing? Or, is it just the simple tourist like myself, who is somehow meant to be enchanted by the idea of sharing the same space—though not at the same time—as royalty? Is the royal family benefiting from the “transforming love of God through Jesus Christ”?

During my visit, I couldn’t help but wonder about other churches. What about those churches, perhaps even just a stone’s throw away from St. Paul’s, that are not connected to the royal family, that have held no weddings or funerals for famous people, and have no tower to climb, or cannot claim a famous architect for its own? I can’t imagine anyone paying admission to visit some no-name church. Does St. Paul’s share of its fame, distributing proceeds from admission with their more lowly friend and acquaintance churches?

And, finally, I couldn’t help but take a moment and wonder about my own church, and its buildings. Will Old South one day be just a sight on the Hallowell historical parade? Given that we haven’t hosted a wedding or funeral for anyone “famous,” will anyone even care about visiting? Would anyone pay admission?

I doubt it. But, maybe it’s better that way.

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A Short Trip to a Distant Place

Posted on August 9, 2014 by smaxreisert

I’m about to go on vacation for a couple of weeks and will take a break from blogging during that time.  Here are few thoughts from the first few days of my vacation this year.  Thanks for reading and enjoy the last weeks of summer!

My husband and I just returned from a few days with some friends who spend a week each summer on an island off the coast of Maine, not far from Acadia National Park.  The island is privately held and shared by a group of people, who divide up the summer so that only one family is on the island each week.

The island has no electricity and the only running water is rainwater that is collected in cisterns (and used only for washing dishes). Drinking water must be collected from wells—with buckets. There are several buildings on the island—an old farmhouse at almost the highest point on the island, an elderly “cottage” next to the farmhouse, and a not nearly so old cabin that sits on the water’s edge, close to the dock and across from the lighthouse on Swans Island. Perhaps you’ve guessed by now: there are no bathrooms; only outhouses (several to choose from).

It’s not all completely 19th century. There are gas-powered fridges in each of the buildings, along with a gas stove/oven. And, you can get at least some cell phone service—so long as your battery holds out.

I look forward to this trip every summer. It’s great to see old friends, whom we don’t see much, if at all, during the rest of the year. It’s great to get away and to be so close to the ocean.

But, it’s also great to be away—at least mostly away—from technology. Although I must admit that my smartphone (with back-up battery) makes the trip with me (mostly because one of our kids is at summer camp and the other was home alone this year), my computer stays home.

Life slows way down during our visits to Harbor Island. A meal is a more complicated and communal affair, and clean up is even more intensive (there’s no gas-powered dishwasher), but it’s all so worth it.

All of a sudden there’s time for games and a long, slow cocktail hour. There’s time for walks, and for sitting on rocks to watch the lobstermen doing their work. There’s time to read that book that’s been sitting on my bedside table and for writing in my journal. There’s time for helping with a little trail maintenance, or making sure there’s gas hooked up for the next visitors. There’s time to eat one’s lobster very slowly, a lobster perhaps caught that very day, delivered by the island’s caretaker.  There’s also the telling of stories.  What is it about candlelight that makes stories so much better?

This year, we tried our hand at identifying the island’s mushrooms. Armed with two identification books, we walked confidently into the woods. Although I had certainly noticed that the woods contained mushrooms, I had no idea how many different kinds there were, until I arranged our samples.  Here are just a few:

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Unfortunately, we discovered that identifying mushrooms is a lot more complicated than we had thought. We didn’t feel like we could, with any certainty, identify any of them. Alas.

My annual trip to the island reminds me of how important it is to slow down and pay attention to other things for a while. There’s a lot of this wondrous world, God’s amazing and mysterious creation, that we miss with our noses stuck in our laptops and our eyes fixed upon our smartphones. It seems not quite enough simply to try to slow down from time to time, but to make the effort to take that trip, even if it isn’t far, to a place where one is set apart from the normal routines of life.

Rocks, mushrooms, trees, thistles, butterflies and birds are remarkable things and should be considered from time to time. And, good friends too.

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Perhaps a Little Clue Into Lower Church Attendance

Posted on August 1, 2014 by smaxreisert

The beginning of this post will seem not at all about church life, but bear with me. I’ll get there.

My fifteen-year-old son goes to summer camp for seven weeks, and has done so for the last four or five years. When I tell friends and acquaintances, at the gym or around town, that my son is away at camp, and for such a long time, I very often hear the comment, “Well, I like having my kids home for the summer.”

As if I don’t?

I don’t send my son to camp to get him out of my hair. I send my son to camp because that’s what he wants.

We are a very fortunate family; we spend our summers on a lovely lake in Central Maine. When my son was very young, unbeknownst to me, John became enamored of camp life, by paying attention to the boys camp not far from our lake house. During the day, the boys from the camp can be seen sailing, canoeing and kayaking. At night, we can hear them chanting, joining together in one loud voice across the waters of Great Pond.

One day when my son was quite young, he raised his arm and pointed at the boys’ camp and asked, “When will I go there?” My first instinct was to say, “Never.” We lived on a Maine lake, why would I send him away to camp? But, John kept asking. When he turned nine, I sent him for a week at church camp and for a week at a 4-H camp. It wasn’t enough; not nearly enough.

When he was ten, I remember picking him up from a week of camp and in my conversation with him about his camp experience, I had a revelation. I was limiting his camp experience because of my needs. I wasn’t paying any attention to his needs.

I started investigating camps, and finally chose to send him to a wonderful camp in the western part of the state, Birch Rock Camp (the camp near our lake house seemed just too close). It’s now hard to imagine John’s life, or our family’s life, without Birch Rock. It has become an essential element in our lives, a place where John is not only kept busy in the summer, but where he’s also learning a lot about himself, in a supportive community of boys and men.

Sure, I’d love to have John home in the summer, but I’ve learned to put aside my own needs and to focus on his needs.

So, this has got me thinking. As I listen to my friends and acquaintances, especially in their responses to John being away for so long, I can’t help but notice how completely focused they are on their own needs, instead of the needs of their children.

I’m thinking about a variety of situations, and though my “sample” is small (this is not a well-populated part of the world), I cannot help but notice the needs of parents coming before needs of children. And, I wonder if this has something to do with what’s happening with church, and the reduced attendance and association with church community. It’s not about what the kids need. It’s about what the parents need and want.

And church just doesn’t fit. Church doesn’t fit in terms of timing and scheduling. But, perhaps even more important, church doesn’t fit in terms of what parents are hoping for and looking for—especially well-educated, intact, ambitious families. These good, conscientious parents are seeking certain experiences, for themselves as well as their children. It’s not just that the children like to be involved in sports, for instance, it’s also that parents like the glory that their children experience, as well as enjoying a sort of status and the sense of community on the sidelines.

When I mention that John goes to camp for so long, I hardly ever hear a comment about concerns about the expense, or possible homesickness. It’s almost always about what the parents want and need. And, I think that’s a little clue regarding the reduced association of these families with church, at least in this part of the world. Until the church becomes a place of glory and status—and that goes against everything we stand for—it may be that those good families will continue to stay away.

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When the Meeting Is the Meaning

Posted on July 25, 2014 by smaxreisert

The Maine Conference of the United Church of Christ is in the midst of considering a new governance and staffing model. A “New Dimensions Team,” of which I am part with other clergy and lay people from around the state, has been working together for more than a year—discussing and envisioning a new way forward as the Conference prepares to search for and call a new Conference Minister.

In July, the Team met with the Coordinating Council, the Conference’s current governing body, to share the current draft of our plan and to get feedback. One of the elements of the plan that is especially exciting to many of us on the New Dimensions Team is a plan to reduce the size of the primary “governing” body, and to focus more time and energy of the Conference on “ministry.” The current Coordinating Council—a large, mostly geographically representative body—spends a great deal of time giving and hearing reports of conference staff, state-wide committees and commissions, etc. The New Dimensions plan replaces the Coordinating Council with a smaller “Mission Council.” Plus, we have suggested various and different ways of engaging in ministry around the conference, for individuals and for groups. The hope is that we, as a conference, will be spending less time “reporting” and more time “doing.”

While the New Dimensions Team eagerly shared our ideas for the future of the Conference, we did not receive an obviously eager response from everyone on the Council. While a couple of younger pastors expressed enthusiasm, the many more older people around the table (the Maine Conference clearly and perhaps even over-emphasizes that Maine is the oldest state in the country) seemed more apprehensive.

On my way home, I thought about the meeting with the Coordinating Council, as well as similar experiences at the church that I serve, Old South Church in Hallowell, where I have worked on reducing the number of meetings for a church of its size and have been surprised by some of the resistance I’ve encountered. As I pondered, I experienced an epiphany of sorts. It occurred to me that for some people, the current arrangements are deeply meaningful—so meaningful, in fact, that they drove hours to attend that July meeting in Augusta, which just happened to be on a gorgeous summer day, after a few days of rain (in Maine, where summers are very short). One person argued that we should actually have more meetings, and not fewer.

While there are some good church people who find meetings enervating, there are other good church people who experience the exact opposite. While there are some who are eager to be “doing” more, there are others who like meetings.   For some, particularly older members of the church, I’ve come to realize that meetings are meaningful. They are the ministry.

I’ve been thinking about the hundreds of church meetings I’ve attended over my long career in the church. Through meetings, church folk get to know each other. They work together. They seek to solve problems. And, from time to time, they actually get important things accomplished. Through meetings, relationships develop and there is a sense of the holy—of different sorts of people gathering around a table and trying to strengthen the church. It’s not especially remarkable to determine who will set up communion, who will offer snacks after worship, who will figure out who’s going to plow in the winter. There’s not much excitement around the church budget or negotiating salary with the pastor, especially during lean times. But, in the midst of all of this work, some good church people find meaning—significant, sacred meaning. Somewhere in there is a connection to faith.

For those of us who wish to have fewer meetings, those of us who see more ministry in doing other things, especially the doing of things outside of the church, it’s important that we recognize that some resistance to change is not just resistance for the sake of resistance, or stubbornness. Some resistance is about not wanting to let go of something that is actually deeply meaningful.

Reporting and policy meetings may not be all that exciting to me, but through them, some people have not only come to know others better, but I suspect they’ve also come to know themselves better as well. Through that journey, they have found a closer connection to the holy. They have experienced ministry.

It’s not that we should not change, or alter our structure as church or conference, but to ensure that we maintain and expand varied routes of ministry, and refrain from a judgment that “ministry” only happens outside of church meetings. One person’s meeting is another person’s meaning. It’s not exactly scriptural, but it’s an important truth to bear in mind, and an aspect of the life of the church for which we should have respect and understanding.

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Which Country Do I Belong To?

Posted on July 18, 2014 by smaxreisert

A couple of weeks ago, a columnist for Slate (Reihan Salam) posed the question, “One Nation Divisible? Is America in Danger of Fracturing into Two Countries, One Secular, One Religious?” In his piece, Mr. Salam wondered, “Could America break apart along religious lines, with devout Christians going one way and the rest of us going another?”

Which “country” would I belong to in such a scenario?

While I often find myself leaning more toward “secular” arguments and approaches when it comes to public policy and governing, my faith is very important to me, and does guide me in the decisions that I make and in how I view myself, the world, and how I see myself as part of this world. So, where does a progressive liberal Christian belong in a potentially divided country?

At first glance, this may seem a silly question, but I’ve found myself thinking about it a lot lately. Perhaps because of the Hobby Lobby case, or through what’s happening in the immigration debate (I recently heard a Boston-based very conservative radio personality not only refer to immigrants as “vermin,” but he then went on to bash Glenn Beck—in strong, vicious language— for suggesting that we use some “Christian values” in thinking about and dealing with the current immigration crisis), I’ve been wondering a lot about what it means to be Christian in the United States, and especially what it means to be a Christian who doesn’t conform to the what’s generally cast as “Christian” in the media.

To the extent that we have a “religious” divide in the United States, I fear that we don’t have so much a divide between “secular” and “religious,” but rather a growing and more obvious divide within Christianity. I’d actually like to see such a thing find a place in the public square, as we ought to have some public discussion regarding “Christian values” and “Christian teachings.” Instead of simply filing into the church that supports my own views, perhaps we should do more to mix things up a bit, and to encourage a different kind of Christian conversation.

It doesn’t take much focus to realize that the range of beliefs for Christians is very wide. And, for many of us, we have a hard time being consistent, in keeping a solid Christian foundation for all of our opinions and perspectives. After all, the Bible itself is not exactly consistent itself.

A more public discussion, then, might be a good thing. It might help us to be clearer about why we believe what we do, instead of simply finding handy Bible verses, and churches, that magically support our own prejudices. We might also become more knowledgeable about the Book we call Holy, yet about which so many seem to know so little (according to a number of studies).

I’d like to think that I can be both devoted to my faith, while also progressive in both my faith and my politics. I suspect that more dialogue across rather than within would provide more opportunities for the discovery of common ground, instead of the continued feeding of the fractious field of assumptions.

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Are You Serving Cheese with that Whine?

Posted on July 11, 2014 by smaxreisert

At a lot of church related meetings, with both clergy and lay people, on the local level but especially when more than one church has gathered, I hear a fair amount of whining: Why don’t people go to church anymore? Why don’t parents bring their kids to church anymore? When will someone do something about sports practices on Sunday mornings? Why does the church get so little respect these days?

Are you serving cheese with that whine?

When the whining begins, I feel like I ought to tape record the ranting, and then play it back, asking, “If this is what you are offering, why would anyone want to join you?” If this is how you talk at church, from the pulpit to fellowship, why would anyone want to be a part of that?

The old Mainline has become the whine-line. And, it simply baffles me that people don’t hear themselves, or those with whom they gather, in such a way that they are inspired to stop. Somehow, they don’t hear the whining. They don’t sense the soul-crushing droning on and on.

When I find myself in the midst of one of these “whine”-fests, and can endure long enough for there to be a break in the action so I can ask the big question, “So, if the only reason people used to go to church was because there was nothing else to do on a Sunday morning, does that really speak well of us?” I find that most people in the conversation look at me like I’m speaking a foreign language.

I know it’s not easy to point the figure back at one’s self or one’s own beloved church, but we – those of us who are still part of the old Mainline – must do so. We must be brave enough to take a close look in the mirror and to see ourselves for what we are, and then to find the grace and courage to change what is not very flattering.

The church cannot be an institution of whiners that simply rests in a comfortable place of complaining about the “good old days,” especially since the “good old days” really were not all that good for us. Just because our pews were filled, doesn’t mean that we were doing God’s work. Being a part of the religion of the Empire, doesn’t mean that we were being faithful to the gospel of Christ.

Clergy, especially, should be mindful of their own whining—and should find ways of stopping themselves from engaging in it. Whining is not transformative. It’s not faithful. It’s not redemptive. It’s not healthy. Did Jesus whine? I don’t think so.

So, stop the whining. Please stop.

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Frozen and Freedom

Posted on July 4, 2014 by smaxreisert

I may be the last American to watch Frozen, but I am certainly aware of the frenzy over the animated film and its main song, “Let It Go,” belted out rock anthem-style by Idina Menzel. I’ve now heard the song joyfully sung by little girl toddlers several times in stores around Central Maine.

As I watched the movie and listened to the lyrics of its hit song, I was struck by one part of the song that offers this sentiment: “It’s time to see what I can do/To test the limits and break through/No right, no wrong, no rules for me I’m free!”

In her new found “freedom,” Elsa, whose special power to bring cold and ice has long been suppressed, leaves her quaint village and forms an ice castle for herself in the mountains, where she can be alone . . . and “free.” It’s an interesting, and troubling, path on the road to girl empowerment. Granted, she does finally, at the end of the film, learn how to deal more constructively with her “special power”—if only her parents hadn’t been so quick to tamp it down and conceal it, perhaps she would have discovered earlier how to keep from spreading only ice and cold (it’s interesting that parents view this film in such a praiseworthy fashion, given that her parents seem to be the primary problem in poor Elsa’s early life).

At Old South this summer, we are examining freedom and rules by spending a few weeks focusing on THE rules, the big Ten, the Ten Commandments. Early in the series, we looked at the beginning of the Ten Commandments from Exodus. I noted that the commandments are rooted in freedom: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.”

The commandments, from the beginning have a foundation in freedom. But, then we went on the very next part: “you shall have no other gods before me.” Someone in the congregation actually quipped, “Well, there goes our freedom.”

And, then when we got to the rather long-ish section on the Sabbath (many of the commandments are really quite brief, but the one on the Sabbath goes into quite a lot of detail). Some in the congregation were quick to wonder about the animals. What does, or did, it mean that one’s livestock should have the opportunity to observe the Sabbath, to rest on the holy day? But, then finally someone raised a hand and asked, “Are we going to talk about the slave part? It looks like not everyone’s free.”

True enough.

Freedom is a complicated thing. At Old South this early summer, we are wondering about what freedom means in the context of faith. Quite a few have articulated the parent-child relationship, that children need “structure” and “boundaries,” especially in families and communities. What would complete and total freedom look like, feel like? Would we really want to live in such a way? Others in the congregation have shared the thought that without limits, how would we know what freedom is?

As churches here in Central Maine continue to face decline, I wonder about where such conversations will take place, in wrestling with important issues of human family and community. Will we all be content to hand over the interpretation of the human condition to Disney?

I realize that the Christian Church has not been, nor is it today in many corners, fertile ground for dialogue on freedom and girl empowerment. I realize that many of the “rules” have often been used to suppress freedom and to tamp down gifts and talents, especially in the case of girls and women. But, I struggle with the notion that this new thing, with churches and religious organizations shoved into the corner, is a better way, or even more empowering, or liberating.

Perhaps it’s more empowering to damn the rules and set out to express ourselves in whatever way we want, but even Elsa from Frozen discovers that the way to curb her icy tendencies is to let go of her fear and to embrace love. And, as the movie also demonstrates, love is about putting the needs of others before one’s own needs.

Sounds an awful lot like some of the lessons that that Jesus guy taught, and an awful lot like the lessons that we preach at Old South, and try to live out.  And, I’m sure other churches are just the same. So, why is it that we feel like we subscribe to an old fashioned, out-dated set of ideals?

I wish I could say that I could “let it go,” but instead I’m frustrated by the lack of connection that characters like Elsa come to a realization that is not new, or unique, but instead embedded in a long and abiding story—one that goes back all the way to the beginning.

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The Folly of Fear

Posted on June 26, 2014 by smaxreisert

Last winter, when Old South was contemplating a new vision for organizing itself, especially its governance, I heard a certain question posed a number of times that asked whether or not other churches had tried such a system. How had it worked? How did people like it?

Last Saturday, I attended a “feedback session” for the draft document of the Maine Conference New Dimensions Team that offers a new vision of governance and staffing for the Conference. Again, I heard that question about how such a plan had worked elsewhere. What other conferences have tried the kind of model that is being proposed and how did it work?

It all sounds to me like we are buying a car. What is the safety rating? How will it hold up? How have other people liked it? How has it worked for them? Is it reliable?

It’s one thing to ask for such data when buying a car or an appliance, but why is it so important to us in the church? I’m reminded of that question my mother (and many other mothers) asked when I wanted to do something that all of my friends were doing, “If all of your friends wanted to jump off a cliff, would you want to join them?”

Why does it matter so much to church folk that we do something or try something new only because someone else has done it? Why does it matter that we use a “tested” model? Can we really find something that’s similar to a Carfax for our churches, our associations and conferences? Maybe we should ask Consumer Reports.

Our fearfulness when it comes to engaging in something new is certainly a big part of our problem in the old Mainline. At a fundamental level, it demonstrates a lack of connection to the Spirit as well as to our scriptures and the stories of our faith.

Did our ancestors in faith survey others before setting off for the new world? Did Martin Luther or Jan Hus, or Ulrich Zwingli or John Calvin, ask about how new patterns for faith and following worked among others before setting a new path?

We stifle the creative Spirit of God when we ask too many questions about how new models have worked out in other places. After all, it will always be different with a new cast of characters.

While it’s certainly useful and important to engage in deep and thorough dialogue about new possibilities and new patterns, and to connect with others who have tried new things, to try to learn from failures and triumphs, we must never let our fear of the new get in the way of the new things that God is up to in our midst. We are not called to tread just the tried and true paths of others. We are called to walk the path that our Savior stretches before us, even when we are led to places that are completely outrageous, strange, and unfamiliar.

We are, supposedly, a people of good news. And there is good news. After all, our faith is grounded in an unspeakable death that actually revealed new life.  Why is it so hard, then, for us to walk the new road, and to try that new thing?  What are we so worried about?

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In Sheep’s Clothing?

Posted on June 19, 2014 by smaxreisert

In its little corner in the extreme northeast, Maine is, at least in terms of a U.S.-centric point of view, at the “end of the road” or on a “road to nowhere” (apologies to my Canadian friends, just to the north of Maine). We feel tucked away up here, with only the very brave venturing this far into the outer-reaches of the country.

In our extreme northeastern perspective, it may come as no surprise then that some Mainers tend to view the South as starting somewhere around Hartford.

And so it is perhaps understandable that when Southern Baptists come to town, they are very quiet and even secretive about it.

This is what is happening in Central Maine. The local Southern Baptist Convention affiliate, the Kennebec Community Church, doesn’t even include “Baptist” in its name. On their website and on their Facebook page, they offer no reference to their affiliation with the Southern Baptist Convention—none whatsoever.

The Kennebec Community Church is, as they describe, a “young, active church.” They are thriving, recently moving into a renovated church building that was once a Roman Catholic Church. On the first Sunday of worship in their new space, this past Palm Sunday, I was told that they had eighty children in attendance. For this part of the world, that is a lot of children to be in one church at one time.

Given what I know about this part of Maine, with its difficult demographics and secularism, I realize that to be able to describe a church as “young” and “active” is remarkable. But, I can’t help but be concerned that they are, perhaps, thriving under less than full disclosure of who they are and what they believe.

Years ago, when I was a young pastor in Cambridge, Mass., I was part of a clergy group that included a Southern Baptist pastor—a truly rare thing in such a place. But, I found my friendship with this pastor to be interesting, enlightening and valuable. Although we were on opposite ends of the Protestant theological spectrum, we were able to have thoughtful and engaging conversation. Though I am sure that both of us thought the other to be “doing it wrong,” we were able to foster a friendship. Why or how? Because we were honest, and authentic, and because each of us employed a good dose of humility in our lives of faith.

This is what I find troubling in what I encounter in the Southern Baptists who have moved in to Central Maine to “save us” from being “lost.” They are not being fully honest about who they are. Though I can’t say that they are “lying” (I have not attended worship there, so I don’t know what is said during worship or what kind of information they have posted in their building), it feels like there’s a deception born of conscious omission—at least in how they communicate on the web. I can’t help but ask questions when I notice how many “free” things they offer—concerts, sports camps, etc. Along with a newly renovated building and staff, how do they manage financially without some connection to an outside entity?

The local Southern Baptists, this far north, may have found success in saving the “lost” by downplaying their denominational attachment, especially when “Southern” is part of that attachment. But, I wonder about the consequences of this way of doing business. Is it ethical to save someone’s soul by deceiving him/her along the way?

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The Church in Decline: The Southern Baptists Show How Unchristian Christians Can Be

Posted on June 12, 2014 by smaxreisert

The Southern Baptist Convention, the largest Protestant group in the United States, recently approved a resolution regarding transgender people. In this resolution, Southern Baptists affirmed such things as: “Gender identity should be determined by biological sex and not by one’s self-perception,” and, “We call upon all judges and public officials to resist and oppose the efforts to treat gender identity as a protected class.” And, somehow, the Southern Baptists believe that they can affirm such things along with the following: “That we love our transgender neighbors, seek their good always, welcome them into our congregations [as they repent and believe in Christ].”

Who are the truly delusional in this picture?

As the diversity of human experience and circumstance continues to show itself and to seek to be fully integrated into culture and society, we find Christians desperately trying to sweep the diversity of human experience back under the carpet.

Shame.

No wonder the Christian Church is in decline in the United States and that people have begun to lose faith in the institution.

On the one hand, we boldly assert the love of God and the love of neighbor, as preached by Jesus, grounded in the foundation of his Jewish faith and law, and on the other, we find all kinds of ways of denying that love to those who seem different.

If Southern Baptists took a brief moment to spend some time with transgender people, they would find that transgender people are really not all that different, that they are people trying to reconcile their inner sense of themselves with the body they inhabit (just as many of us non-transgender people do). And, as they have found the two to be not in sync, they seek to bring the two together.  As it turns out, it’s easier to change one’s body than it is to change one’s soul. And, they don’t do this on a whim, or lightly, or wantonly.

Southern Baptists do themselves, as well as the whole of the Christian Church, a great, and powerful, disservice, by somehow believing themselves to be in possession of the mind of God, when they make such statements as they have done at their annual meeting this year. They have put on full display the deep problems of putting written words above the Word of God, Jesus the Christ.

I understand that it’s easier to live, and to expect, life and humanity to be neat and tidy, with most people falling into easily defined categories. But that’s simply not the reality of human existence. And, the long-held notion that we can just dictate or legislate people into those neat categories is simply not the way that Christians ought to believe or act.

To believe in God, and to seek to be people of deep faith, is to know genuinely and profoundly that one is not God and that one cannot fully know the mind of God, or the complete intent of God’s creation. Christians must, therefore, be more humble, and willing to accept the limited nature of our understanding and appreciation for God’s wondrous universe.

But, in thinking about our scriptures that we hold dear—literally or not—we ought to consider carefully the beginnings of Creation: “So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.” (Genesis 1:27, NRSV) When you really think about, it sounds kind of . . . transgender, don’t you think?

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