Why I left Him: A Sincerely Christian Apology

Dear Big-Steeple-Mega-Church-Preacher,

I attended your church on Sunday and I left halfway through your sermon. I am truly sorry.

For the past month, I have been attending churches throughout our city – some big, some small, some liturgical, some not. I’ve sung gospel hymns, praise and worship choruses, out of books and on screens. I’ve listened to rock and roll and offerings in Latin, Greek, and Spanish.  I’ve prayed to her, him and them. I’ve managed to do so with an open heart. I’ve found God’s amazing love in places I least expected it – in worship communities far removed from my own home base of Anglicanism. I have truly enjoyed worshiping in all sorts of places, with all sorts of people.  

I have prayed using all sorts of terms for God over the past month. I’m not big on referring to God in masculine terms.  Years of seminary and looking at my own relationships with men and women in my life want me to believe that God is much bigger than “him” or “her.”  I’d like to think God is both, or better yet, more. Your opening praise hymns got under my skin a little, but I kept an open mind. I really wanted to worship with you.

Then, it happened – the sermon which saddened me deeply. The sermon which called out Anglicans, Eastern Orthodox and Catholics everywhere for worshiping idols through though icons lit with candles and incense. I have icons and I occasionally use them to pray. I occasionally seek places that have icons as personal solitude and respite and as windows to God, not God on their own, but as visions of God’s love, work, and beauty beyond what the white walls of my home look like. When you stated that deeply devoted Christians who find pilgrimage and solace in statues like Christ the Redeemer in Brazil and Bolivia are worshiping idols, you really lost me. That’s when I walked out.  The only thing that would have lost me faster was a discussion on gay hate.

I’ve been on those pilgrimages, not to Corcovado or to San Pedro, but to altars in Italy and Lexington. I’ve sat and walked on bended and hurting knees to attempt to glimpse at Christ on staircases and altars with incense and icons. That devotion allowed me to contemplate Jesus’ deep sacrifice for us in powerful ways. 

I came to your church on the eve of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Birthday – a day when we celebrate unity, justice, and respect for all people. Martin Luther King, certainly understood sacrifice far beyond my sore devotional knees. That night, God spoke to me in another form of devotion – dream.

Sometime, during the night, I too had a dream – a dream that I was in trouble and lost. A dream where I needed help – and a former boyfriend was there to pick me up, hug me, and get me safely to a car. Like Jesus, my ex-boyfriend saved me. When I awoke this morning, I logged on to check his facebook page. It was filled with images of Phil – you know, gay-hating, duck-hunting, Phil Robertson, Phil. Had God sent me a dream in the night, that Jesus could have been a gay-hater? That is not my Jesus and there is no way God would send me that message on the eve of MLK!

Dear Big-Steeple-Mega-Church-Preacher, you and I actually agree on something. Whereas I believe icons are forms of devotion and not idols, whereas, I believe dreams are God’s inner spirit working and not satanic spirits, we both agree that much of our devotion should come through scripture. Imagine my surprise when God had these words for me today –

To you who are ready for the truth, I say this: Love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with energies of prayer for that person. If someone slaps you in the face, stand there and take it. If someone grabs your shirt giftwrap your best coat and make a present of it. If someone takes unfair advantage of your, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more tit-for-tat stuff. Live generously.

Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the inactive and do it for them!  If you only love the loveable, do you expect a pat on the back? Run-of-the-mill sinners do that. If you only help those who help you, do you expect a medal? Garden-variety sinners do that. If you only give for what you hope to get out of it, do you think that’s charity? The stingiest of pawnbrokers does that.

I tell you, love your enemies…. Live out this God-created identity the way our Father lives towards us, generously and graciously, even when we are at our worst. Our Father is kind: you be kind.” (Luke 6: 27-38, The Message).

Dear Big-Steeple-Mega-Church-Preacher, I am sorry. I am sorry I did not stay to have an open dialogue conversation. If I had preached or written something that hurt someone else, I would hope that they would confront me. I hope that they would be kind with my broken ego and bring me back to reality with love and grace. If ex-boyfriend was to call me today, I would be able to still love him with grace and I would want to dialogue with him about Phil. Yet, I didn’t see you as a person – I saw you as a “Big-Steeple-Mega-Church-Preacher,” and for that I apologize.

I am sorry because on a week where we talk about unity, respect, and love for all people I am having a really hard time respecting you. I am sorry that sometimes I find it much easier to love everyone else- the gay, the transgendered, the Hispanic, the African-American, the immigrant, the politically incorrect, the politician, the homeless, the criminal, the prostitute, the Roman Catholic and the Eastern-Orthodox before I love you. “Those people” do not slap me in the face. “Those people” often love me and I love them back. Yet, God shows us generosity, forgiveness and love to all, and you are no less deserving of that love.

Most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t make it until confession, communion or prayer – the acts that remind us no matter how broken we both are, that God loves, accepts us, and calls us as living members of Jesus’ work. I am sorry that I was unable to confess in your community that I had not loved you, my neighbor, child of God, as much as I loved myself that day. Through Christ’s example, I’m trying harder to be kind, I’m trying harder to know your name, I’m trying harder to love. It is really hard to love you sometimes, and that is why I ask for God’s help.  I’ll pray for you, will you pray for me? 

WWJZ – Why Would Jesus Zumba?

I love to dance. I believe it is scriptural – when the Israelites crossed the Red Sea and escaped from Pharaoh, Miriam led them in dance. When the psalmist speaks of praising God, they speak of singing and dancing. Jeremiah prophesizes about times of hope and newness complete with dance. At the core of our beings, dancing is related to a deep and inner joy. I imagine it connects us to the elements of God’s unfathomable creativity within us. Like corporate singing and communal prayer it unites us, beyond ourselves, to persons in our midst.

I hate to admit, that as a Christian minister, I do not always participate in corporate worship away from home.  For me, travel is often a time of deep prayer and discovery.  I journal, read scripture, contemplate God’s abundance and unendingness by spending time with ocean, sky, dessert and forest.  I stumble into churches to pray and to admire the beauty of architecture. Occasionally, I stay for a choir or organ practice that I happen upon.  Sometimes, I return for a service.

On the contrary, I rarely miss Zumba. One of the first things I do on vacation is open my Zumba app to see if there are classes in my area. My desire to Zumba everywhere is not because I am a fitness nut. At a size 16 and someone who really enjoys food. I believe in taking care of my body, but not that much. I would also never say Zumba means as much to me as sharing in worship of God with community. But it is a close second. What is it about Zumba that makes me never want to miss?  

#1. Diverse Community – With God’s great vision, I believe God is able to see and accept the differences in each of us. Like the church, Zumba is an intentionally diverse age community. In any given class, children to 90 year-olds dance together. In addition, Zumba is an extremely diverse cultural community. The music spans across the globe: hip-hop, Bollywood, Latin, Middle Eastern, 80’s rock. Often, I attend classes where people do not speak the same language. Dance, like song, like art, like ritual, cuts across cultural barriers joining us into one.

#2. Acceptance – I really don’t dance well.  I’ve seen pictures. I look like a complete fool.  Most of the time, I am off beat and out of place.  But, no matter where I go, the Zumba community seems to accept me as “one of them.” Perhaps, because the only requirement to Zumba is that you have a desire to dance. Not that you are good at dancing, not that you follow along by sitting, standing and bending at the right time – but that you have a DESIRE to want to be there. No one judges you because you have desire.

#3. Encouragement – Zumba is a tremendously positive environment. Instructors sign off on their emails with “besos” (the Spanish word for kisses). They spend time at the beginning and end of each class in humility thanking their students for coming. They remind each class how beautiful they are (I’ve seen the room from their vantage point; the DANCING is NOT what makes the class beautiful).

#5. Admittance of flaws – I like my Zumba instructors imperfect. Sure there are those out there that look like “models” but there are more out there who look like me - with pinches of fat and imperfect hair. Zumba instructors mess up. A lot. Then the laugh it off and keep on going. They admit fault and they humbly rely on the rest of the class to catch them and correct them.  

#6. Live participation – Rarely, do people attend Zumba out of obligation or out of guilt. They are there because they want to be there. The air is thick with intensity and intention. The energy is full and active participation.

#7. Authenticity – Not all the music is “moral.” Not all the dance moves are for the southern gentile, but they are real. They scream humanity. In a range of emotions – from celebratory hops to anger punches, they are real. From the sensual salsa to guttural hip hop – dancing forces you in to accepting and deal with the wide range of emotions that exist within your human soul.  

I would never say Zumba could take the place of church. There is no sacrifice outside one’s self, no talk of unconditional love, no focus on ultimate forgiveness. It isn’t church, nor is it a substitute for it.  It is however beautiful, spiritual, and possibly a parable. The Kingdom of Heaven is diverse, accepting, and authentic community where people can be themselves, just as they are? The kingdom of heaven is like… Zumba? The kingdom of heaven is like….Church? 

An Epiphany Trek to Beauty, Plus Some

This month, I have had the great pleasure of worshiping outside of Christ Church Cathedral –my spiritual and professional home for the past seven years.  On December 1^st, I left the walls of my own comfortable faith tradition to experience worship as a stranger, nomad, seeker and pilgrim. To date, I have worshiped in mega-churches and small country churches, with the non-denominationals and the super-structurals. I began this journey wondering what it was like to experience warm hospitality verses cold prickling stares entering a new church for the first time. The inner sociologist in me wondered how churches were creating space to welcome the stranger in their midst and what effect this was having on the body of Christ.

What I am discovering, is not only that churches everywhere are warm and welcoming, but the diversity of Christian tradition has far more to teach us about the nature of God than simply God is welcoming.  I never have been able to describe God, but I have always described our creator as more than we can imagine. As an Anglican, I love the words that often close Morning Prayer – “Glory to God whose power, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20).  Because I know God is the one whom is more than we can comprehend or imagine, I have often believed heaven to be the best of all that I can imagine, plus some. Heaven like a patched work quilt of the most beautiful fabrics ever produced, plus some. A sprinkle of evangelical spirit here, mixed with a dose of high church liturgy there, a heartfelt Spanish love song mixed with an engaged and philosophically thought provoking sermon, plus some. Because God is always bigger than we can vision or imagine, I imagine our most authentic worship is more creative, more diverse, and includes more cultures than we can ever envision, plus some.

To date, two of my most powerful worship experiences have been this cacophony of praise. Both experiences laid within my own tradition of the Episcopal Church, however, both included powerful rituals outside WASP custom. In one, I led a compline service with a non-denominational , evangelical. He desired to steer away from the Book of Common Prayer to offer a more spirit- led prayer. His acoustic guitar skills joined with my desire to follow liturgy and tradition and created a service of altar-building around the hymn “Come Though Fount of Every Blessing.” It was beautiful.  The second, a Rite II Eucharist from the El Libro de Oracion Comun, included Hispanic teens leading one praise song and white southern teens leading the next.

If God can grant me such powerful worship experiences within the context of my own tradition, what awe-inspiring lessons of God’s goodness might there be to learn from praising outside my own church?

In my nine-years of professional full-time ministry I have talked, dialogued, and shared meals with Christians from other traditions. I have jointly served on councils, drafted policies, marched in protests, and shared service projects. Yet, I have rarely worshiped in God’s cacophony of diversity. Worship is what Christians do – it is our most precious offering, yet we rarely worship together. In my experience, we rarely worship together because it is difficult to figure out.  If we had communion would it be symbolic or real? Would a woman or homosexual be able to preach? Who would we pray to and how would we do it? Our fears of how to do things in order to not offend one another keep us from being open to the beauty that God has given us.

In the next month, I have a wonderful opportunity to explore the diverse goodness that God has to offer through traditions of all shapes and sizes.  You are invited to join me as I pilgrim through the diverse lands of God’s orthodox and unorthodox, denominational and non, spirit-led and spirit-fed people. Yesterday, was the Celebration of Epiphany. On this day, we celebrate the Magis' journey to the Christ Child. Like them, I expect to find great beauty on my journey, plus some.