Religious (Not Crazy)

Last week CNN reported that the Trump administration excluded one of their reporters from a press event for asking what they described as an “inappropriate” question. (The Guardian, July 25, 2018) “Inappropriate” is one of those words that seems innocuous until someone uses it to describe you. And when that happens you realize that what is “appropriate,” is very powerful and very contextual. When Jesus shows up on the scene for all of three years of ministry, he did a lot of inappropriate things. He ate with tax collectors and sinners, consorted with prostitutes, and did his very best to disturb every person he ever met in order to instigate change. Change, protest, disruption: these are part of our Christian heritage. But so is stability and order. Paul writes desperately to the early churches, instructing them in how to establish institutions that won’t tear each other apart at the first sign of disagreement. He encourages slaves to submit to their masters and in

Once I said something—a small, off-handed comment—that made a friend of mine think that perhaps I wasn’t “saved.” A few years later, a professor at Fuller Seminary wanted to check to see why I wasn’t “where the other students were” when it came to matters of faith. Failing other peoples’ faith tests has been a reoccurring event in my adult life. That ought to mean I condemn faith tests, and yet I find the practice useful and employ mine constantly.  My faith test has one question (and it’s not “have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?”): Have you ever realized the Bible or your church was wrong and chosen to believe in a good and loving God of justice anyway? Follow-ups might include, have you ever been deeply disturbed by the Bible or made an outcast in your church? Have you ever found Jesus outside of the church and chosen to follow that Christ (no matter what she looked like) instead of the one preached from the pulpit? The Bible lets me down almost