We’re the good guys…right?

I have been captivated by parables recently. I am not alone either. The content of Jesus’ parables are striking and evocative. What’s more, the structure and artistry of a good story that invites participation has really caught my attention. The parables of Jesus are the one form of communication and instruction wherein the structure and the content are guided by the same ethic — inclusion.

The reason we gravitate towards good stories is because they invite us inside. We get lost in the story. You’ve probably said that before about your favorite book. Jesus’ parables invited his hearers in because the characters are people they could identify with. At the same time, the content of the parables were about those whom God was including in the kin_dom. A parable welcomes you into a new landscape. For Jesus, that new landscape provided for new ways to see God, one’s self, and others.

No one leaves unscathed by Jesus’ parables. Particularly those in Luke 15. In that chapter, the parabolic teaching is prompted by a complaint by the Pharisees concerning who Jesus was sharing table with. Its really easy for us to assume that the Pharisees are a bunch of self-righteous, legalistic, exclusivists. I’m sure there were people like that among their ranks. Historically, however, Pharisees were simply good Torah-abiding followers of Yahweh. Some even argue that this is the very tradition Jesus emerged from. I think in many ways, the best idea about the Pharisees we can interpret the Bible with is that they were good church folk like you and I. Perhaps their self-righteous and legalistic flaws are mostly projections of that which we refuse to take responsibility for in our own selves.

If Jesus were addressing these parables to whiny conservative Baptists, he would have been at the table with homosexuals, and atheists. If Jesus were addressing these parables to whiny liberal/moderate Baptists, he would have been at the table with the Religious Right, and skinheads. To be fair, If Jesus were addressing these parables to whiny emerging Baptists, he would have been at a Wal-Mart McCafe networking with white male denominational executives on a PC.

The irony of parables is that most readers assume they vindicate their own cause, when actually they implicate us for our participation in injustice. If we interact with Jesus’ parables honestly, we see that all of us have a “them.” A group or groups of people we draw outside of our circle. People we would be loath to invite to our table. Our resentment of God’s inclusion of them leads us to temporary amnesia about how we ourselves are received by God. Parables can shake us out of that stupor by including us in the story, and inviting us to see our folly in the story’s characters.

As we wrestle with emergence, and the conflict and struggle inherent in that, parables will be indispensable. Parables will keep us honest by not letting us off the hook concerning our own prejudices and hubris. They won’t let us off the hook regarding those who are not emerging and how we relate to them. When we are tempted to assume we’re the good guys, Jesus’ parables will make us ask good questions of that assumption.

Parables expose us. That sort of self-discovery is vital to our becoming, or emerging, more like Christ.

Note: The use of the generic term “guys” in the title has to do with how this phrase is understood in the common vernacular, and not a product of laziness as regards gender inclusivity.

Conflict: Distraction or Calling?

You may be aware that many of our beloved congregations are gripped with a sickness unto death. You might be a staff person in a church like that, or a lay leader. You may be sitting through meetings where one side demands you make changes now, and the other side wonders why “these people,” refuse to be assimilated into our way of doing church. You might be navigating the waters of congregational distrust of the staff, and/or vice versa. You might wonder why church folk can so quickly forget the greatest commandment when it comes to speaking to, or about, a fellow member who sees things differently from them. You might have a church where no one has been challenged to do anything, so they all have plenty of time to tell you how to do it. You might be in a church that has lost so many members that they’ve begun clinging to a nostalgic image of the past and are unable to see a better future. You might be a staff member in a church because its the best paying gig you could land, but you’d rather go out and start a “cool” church. You may think that institutions are irredeemable and plagued with bureaucratic incompetence. You might be getting phone calls from members complaining about so and so. You may have received an anonymous letter this week. You might have just gotten home from a business meeting where people you’ve never seen on Sunday showed up and voted down a controversial project or amendment that would open the church to new possibilities and/or people. Perhaps you can’t sleep because you decided to make a stand in support of a gay couple in your church and the deacons called a special closed meeting to discuss your future.

These are not easy days.

There are some things I am becoming more and more convinced of in light of these realities.

1. We cannot see congregational conflict as an intrusive distraction from the “true” mission of the church. The “true” mission of the church is relationships, and is deeply relational. We have been entrusted with the ministry of reconciliation. For most of us in traditional Baptist churches, that mission is primarily and in some cases singularly internal. Its the same dynamic expressed in the greatest commandment if we read it with a communal lens rather than an individual one. We can only love others (that which is beyond the church) as well as we love our self (the church). When we work on our own relationships as the church, we are ultimately working on those relationships yet to come in the future with new people.

2. A new metaphor would be helpful for cultivating new life within old structures. One that comes to mind is when they take old barges out to sea and submerge them to form new aquatic habitats or reefs. This may seem harsher than it is. The point is that life can come from old structures. This requires an ability to move beyond critique to adaptation and utilization of what one has to work with, even when it is not ideal. If we want to claim our God-given image, then we must be willing to speak/breath life into lifeless things–to begin with what we’ve got. Look at what was done with cosmic dust and dirt!

3. It is vital for us younger clergy to make the distinction between what are actual & legitimate criticisms of us, and what are projections of past disappointments and present disillusionment. Its not enough to be full of great ideas and innovative concepts. Nor is it enough to be articulate and organized. The most important element is to be known. First to yourself, and second to your congregation. Our significant challenge as Gen Xers and now Millennials is reconciling our own fractal selfhood. As products of the information age, we are walking conglomerates of sponsor identities. The truth is that many of us have yet to trust in God’s naming of us as “the beloved.” That leaves us lonely in the deepest parts of who we are. That loneliness can lead us to serve for our own egocentric and even narcissistic needs. When that loneliness is replaced with knowing ourselves as God’s beloved, then criticism will never be threatening. If its legit, we’ll be whole enough to admit we could do better or differently. If its a false projection we’ll see it as such and not defensively overreact. In all of this, we will be able to make space for others within our selves because that space is no longer cluttered with our fleeting attempts to feel loved & demand acceptance. The space that God-belovedness makes within us is the space we can invite others into — be they friend or foe, critic or encourager.

4. Everyone has been made in God’s image. Especially the people we have the hardest time loving. As critical and confrontational as Jesus was with the corrupted systems of power of his day, he sought the reconciliation of those caught up in them. Perhaps it is best if we admitted that just as an emergent posture is embodied, so too is a modern traditional posture. To that extent, then, our disdain of institutionalism and foundationalism, can never disentangle itself from a contempt for those who embody it. To argue binary separation on the one hand and deny it on the other betrays a cognitive dissonance within our emerging posture. Should we focus on the relational ethic that is inherent to our emergent posture, then we will never be able to justify writing-off that which is not us. They are us.

5. We must confess and repent from our sense of entitlement as newly emerging leaders and clergy. Much of our anxiety and frustration as young leaders in the church comes by way of our feeling entitled to having it our way now. Related to that is the expectation that it should come easily. Our high-speed broadband culture has formed us well, and not all of it has been good. Very few of us will survive this emerging reformation project so long as we expect things to go our way quickly with little pain, conflict, or waiting. Birthing new life is anything but quick and painless. Since our work is so enmeshed in human relationships, histories, and emotional systems, it will be slower, messier, and remarkably transformative.  It will require much more listening, and far less demanding its own way. Authentically, it will pay more than lip-service to hearing and receiving diverse voices.

There’s no doubt that church work these days can take a heavy toll on its leaders. Especially in Baptist churches where the modern theological and methodological structures worked so well for so long. Much of what we are called to do as leaders in this context is to comfort the grieving, garner trust, build hope, and create space for new life where we can. This is hard work, challenging work, frustrating work, but rewarding work. It is our work for our time.

My prayer for us is for self-reflective honesty, perseverance, and authentic commitment to an embracing relationality. In doing so, I believe we will be true to our God-given identities amidst emerging transitions, while being redemptively open and present to conflicting identities.