-Pastor Melissa Fain- I have only done one Tuesday Review where I was asked to read a book and write about it. This is not that one. In this case: A friend saw a previous post I had written, suggested this book, and my husband bought it for me as a Christmas gift. I typically follow a very simple guide to reviewing something:
This one will be helpful, and unlike my recent reviews, it is a solid, good book. As I wrote previously, it is so refreshing to take a break from the brackish readings of the likes of Zacharias, and take a cool flowing trip through Pemberton. I plan to answer some questions in this review: Who is this book for? What makes it worthwhile to read? Where do I feel the tension has been released? In other words, where does it fall apart (just a little)? Let’s begin! Who is the book for?As a minister, there were times I felt I was reading a straight up commentary. Commentaries are typically what ministers use to get perspective on a scripture. I don’t just sit down and read commentary. I use it like I would an encyclopedia. If I wanted to know about a chapter in Luke, I’ll pick up a few of my Luke commentaries, and just read the section on that specific chapter. In that way, this book is for ministers. Now that I’ve read it, I’ll place it among my research section, and I’ll easily be able to find what I need when I eventually preach from a lament Psalm. As a person who has felt trauma multiple times, it was a warm hug. It is completely appropriate to get this book, read the first third, find your lament, read that chapter, and then read the final third. There were times I could only read a chapter, and then I had to walk it off. I haven’t had that kind of theological reflection of a writing in… well this was a first. There were times I spiritually needed this book. I believe there are others who could use it too, if they only knew it existed. As someone who has spent decades in the institutional building of a church, this book would make an amazing Bible study paired with “Act Normal: Memoir of a Stumbling Block,” by Kristy Burmeister. I need to get Act Normal in the Church. Kristy’s voice needs to be heard apart from the antiseptic messages, but within their bleached walls. Dr. Pemberton’s book is the perfect partner for that task. Her book is one long lament, and seeing it as such helps the reader take her words in. What makes this book worthwhile to read?Once you’ve actually sung true thanksgiving to God after suffering through lament, it’s so off-putting to hear thanksgiving severed from the reason to give thanks. To those still in the midst of lament caused by the Church, it’s not only off-putting, it’s down right scary. I have this sneaky suspicion that many of us want to lament, but we are afraid of how it will look. Any sort of shadow, or negativity is culturally seen as against God. This book clearly shows the untruth in that cultural theology. This is a voice who knows what he’s saying, because he has done the hard research to bring it all together. As much as I was angry with the chapter that discussed Psalm 137, the book landed the ending. Which brings me to one minor critique… Where is the tension lost?If I could summarize the book in one sentence it would be this: Trust God enough to speak the truth in your prayers. He couldn’t find the truth in Psalm 137, because he only heard the words being spoken, not the meaning beyond them. What baffles me, much of what he says in the very next chapter, if also considered for the previous chapter, would have made it all more palatable. It makes me wonder if 137 was part of what had already been written before he transitioned from someone who talked about lament, to someone who actually lived through it. (He mentions ⅔ of the book being written and gathering dust when he went through his own anguish.) I do invite you to read what I wrote on his take on Psalm 137, but I have one more greater point for this particular post. Talking to God has to start somewhere. It might even start with a lie. If we are so afraid that the only words spoken need to be truthful words, we could scare people out of praying all together. I would summarize prayer in this way: Prayer is bringing yourself, in all that you are, before God in sacrifice. It might involve lies. “I’m a good person,” sounds great on paper, but put that phrase in Hitler’s mouth, and we have a problem. It’s not about the words, but the meaning behind and beyond the words. Sometimes the meaning behind a lie is, “Listen, I’m uncomfortable being in this space, I don’t even know if I believe what I’m doing, but I’m willing to give it a try.” How are we to discount that prayer just because the physical words were a lie? ConclusionThis was a solid book that I would unhesitantly suggest to anyone going through a crisis. It sharpened my beliefs on lament, added to my spiritual journey, and left me in a moment of thanksgiving to God. What more can you ask for from a religious book?
On another note- it’s time to go back into the dung heap. My next Tuesday review is not going to be any of the things I mentioned above. Just as we need to sharpen good theology, we need to obliterate the bad. I’m reading a book on the Dugger family. God help me. -Pastor Melissa Fain- Over the past 6 weeks I’ve been reevaluating the meaning of the word “preach.” Let me lay out the groundwork first. From the moment I felt called to be a minister, I already had a more expansive definition of “preaching.” I wanted to be a Christian singer. I wanted the music notes, the inflection, and the words to preach. Part of this was my severe anxiety. I could stand in a room full of people and sing a song, and tell a story with the rise and fall of the notes. Only, that box didn’t fit me too long. I realized I wanted to say more than what the pre-written songs were saying. (I also felt most of the pre-written songs were garbage when it came to speaking God beyond fluffy sentiments.) I wanted to talk about God in spaces where God existed, but we were failing to even look. To find the lost coin in the darkness. So I began writing. I learned very quickly it was a very exclusive club that required the use of over-inflated words. Without saying so, they set the entrance fee to have a voice at their table. The fee was either having a fantastical story, a family member who was already in, or a stable middle-class-ish family.. Why do I say this? Because I was from a home where between both parents there were four divorces in my childhood. I went to three elementary schools, and lived in six different homes. There was no way to follow my educational progression because I didn’t stay in one place long enough to have any school really help me. I struggled in language arts. I struggled in math. If I wanted to be taken seriously as a writer, I better know the rules. I better write the correct lingo that Seminary Professors would understand, and people like me would not. I better be peer reviewed so I could be placed in a journal no one would read. I learned the lingo, but I don’t use it here. There is nothing worse in the world of writing than to waste your time talking to people who cannot possibly understand what you are trying to say. BUT- that also means I’m not going to be published. See, it’s exclusive. Either I sell my essence to get entrance and not have anything to really say (because, I sold the most important part of me to get the microphone). Or, I keep doing what I’m doing with no amplification at all. I don’t have a famous daddy so the second one it is. I believe the system scared me into being a manuscript preacher. (Pre-writing my sermon and performing it on a Sunday morning.) As I’ve forced myself to be off the cuff for virtual worship, I’ve suddenly realized how boxed in the manuscripts are. What I’m not saying about the word “preach.”I’m not using it like the phrase, “That’ll preach!” That phrase is used to say the action or words could be preached on a Sunday morning. It still puts preaching as something that can only happen in a pulpit on a Sunday morning. I’m also not talking about the phrase, “Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary use words.” That is a statement of social responsibility, not actual preaching. Finally, I’m not talking about the phrase, “Stop preaching at us!” That suggests there is nothing helpful in the act of preaching, and when the action looks like a sermon, it needs to stop. (Once again, looking like a sermon is something that involves words at a podium.) Truly seeing the wilderness in preaching.What I’m about to write is personally terrifying. I’ve seen glimpses of it, and it truly feels I’ve glimpsed the edge of God. It is the true vastness of the Wilderness.
Van Gogh, Howard Finster, and Aaron Douglas. They are all artists. More than that, they are all preachers in their own right. Van Gogh created The Potato Eaters after he was let go as a missionary. He was let go because he gave up his lodgings to the homeless. That’s when he found his true calling as a painter. The Potato Eaters preaches to those who fired him for living into a social Gospel. Howard Finster was a pulpit preacher who felt his congregation wasn’t listening to what he was saying. He left the safety of the church, and followed the call to start creating. He became famous for his art. Aaron Douglas was agnostic, yet the way he captures Biblical narrative from an African American perspective was way before James Cone and “God of the Oppressed.” He spoke to truths the power in the Church would have blacklisted had they realized what he was doing. These three artists were brought to my attention from three different circumstances. It reminded me of who I am, and who I am called to be. When I said I was leaving the denomination, I had someone publicly (while also being kinda discreet) suggest it was all too dangerous. The danger wasn’t for my safety. The danger was what I could do without boundaries. The words lacked understanding of the deep danger so many had found themselves outside the church, and the necessity to break those boundaries to meet them in their danger. I have always known the boxes never fit me. I think those who really know me, also know that fact. Yet, I always tried to cram myself into these boxes like they are something that should continue to exist. How could I say, “The language of God is more than words,” and not hear what I was saying to myself?! I’ve, most recently, been praying to stay a minister. You might think that is strange for a person like me to pray. I’ve been in ministry since high school. Over 20 years now. Why would I, of all people, fear I would be called away from it? I can feel the call to not be in the pulpit. My whole life, whether I realized it or not, being in the pulpit in a church has become my definition of being a minister. Meanwhile, in a complete contradiction I constantly talk about other forms of ministry. I raise up the Chaplains. I adore the missionaries. They are ministers. I also didn’t realize I had limited the language of ministry, while contradicting myself in it’s practice. God smacked me upside the head with three painters, and reminded me of my brief moment in music ministry. God told me my boxes were too small. That’s what scares me, and knowing I’ve been doing it the whole time. I’ve been preaching with art. I’ve been preaching with action. I’ve been preaching with the song of inflection. I’ve been telling God’s story to the world outside the pulpit and with more than words, for way longer than I’ve even realized! People ask for my songs in their forign land. I get angry when they ask for it, because they won’t consider it worship. Why am I singing the Lord’s song to people who don’t see it for what it is? So my prayer to God is returned to just worship God. If others see, fine. So I do. At that point, I have to read the scriptures where the entire thing sounds stupid. I have to see Naaman completely frustrated that he’s asked to clean in dirty water. I must see how foolish it all looks, because it all looks like futility. No one from inside the box wants me outside the box, because I’m in danger of breaking the box. So those inside the box are fearful of what I might do, and those outside the box think it’s cute. And all God’s trying to tell me is that my ministry is not at a podium! Fine, God! Sure! But, can you tell the people who pay your servants? All your funds are tied up in buildings, and pulpits. How long? We, as a people, can’t sit in silence for 30 seconds without needing to blurt something and I’ve been doing this for years. Is my decade enough? How about two decades? Three full decades when I’m 61? No! 64! Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I’m 64?! At the same time, knowing I can paint, sing, dance, act and create worship… wow it makes the traditional worship look so tiny and unimportant. Yeah, the wilderness is scary, but once you’ve lived in it for a decade, how could you go back? My Boss has basically handed me the tools and told me to go have fun, and part of it is knowing, that’s what I’ve been doing all along! God knows me, and has given me a job that fits my skill set. My definition of preaching is just right. It’s yours that is too small. -Pastor Melissa Fain- A few weeks back I wrote about a book I was currently reading: Hurting with God, by Dr. Glenn Pemberton. For multiple unforeseen reasons, I’m not done yet. I have four chapters left, and I’m loving the journey. Many days, I’ll read and then just walk it off. When those days happen I’ve found God in the text, and the two of us just have to end the reading in a silent prayer. For those of you I’ve piqued your interest, when I get through the final four, I’ll write out my review. Right now I want to talk about something I truly believe he missed. When you know, you know...As I was reading I felt he got the point, but more like a cancer doctor having found cancer in someone else. He knew where to look, and what it looked like, but there was always this hint of something being missing. In my mind, the answer will always be found in Psalm 137. Psalm 137 is the most uncomfortable Psalm in the entire Bible. If you don’t know why, let me let the Psalm speak for itself: (CEB) 1 Alongside Babylon’s streams, there we sat down, crying because we remembered Zion. 2 We hung our lyres up in the trees there 3 because that’s where our captors asked us to sing; our tormentors requested songs of joy: “Sing us a song about Zion!” they said. 4 But how could we possibly sing the Lord’s song on foreign soil? 5 Jerusalem! If I forget you, let my strong hand wither! 6 Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I don’t remember you, if I don’t make Jerusalem my greatest joy. 7 Lord, remember what the Edomites did on Jerusalem’s dark day: “Rip it down, rip it down! All the way to its foundations!” they yelled. 8 Daughter Babylon, you destroyer,[a] a blessing on the one who pays you back the very deed you did to us! 9 A blessing on the one who seizes your children and smashes them against the rock! Have you ever really been physically hurt? You broke a bone, you closed your finger in a car door, you accidentally amputated a body part? Did you notice how people reacted to your reaction to pain? For me, who has done all but amputate a body part, my screams were met with support and love. Why? Because, as a people we get physical ailments. Well, I’ll walk that back a little, we don’t always get physical ailments, but we know the reaction to them, and look for that as a sign someone needs help. Meanwhile, spiritual and mental needs do not get the same reaction. I’ll walk that back a little. Many parents can hear those mental and spiritual screams from their kids, and know when they are screaming, “I hate you, Mom!” they don’t really mean those words. We allow it for kids, because we justify it to ourselves. It’s because they are young. They are speaking from raging hormones and a shortsighted worldview. We use our kid’s scream to set the parameters for what we will listen to. Instead of treating the spiritual and mental scream as a sign that the person needs help, we tell them to “Grow up!” Or, we throw platitudes out like it’s somehow going to cover it over so we can move on. “Everything happens for a reason.” “It will only make you stronger.” Maybe the worst of them all, “You really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Reading Pemberton to get to Psalm 137I often think ahead on a book. In the genre of fiction this is not a good thing. I have a very active imagination, and my story is usually more compelling than what I eventually read. I might be better just putting fiction down ½ way through reading, and just play out my own endings.
In non-fiction, thinking ahead is like understanding the notes that must follow in a musical piece, and preparing for the rise and fall of the linguistic music. When I know the piece is garbage, I try to find something redeemable in the writing. When I love and agree is when I dig in and tear apart. That’s what really makes my words a difficult read. We live in a world sectioned off into absolutes. We no longer critique our colleagues. This has made our arguments weak; brittle. It has given the most poorly formed arguments a false sense of correctness. I push against the voices I agree with, to strengthen those voices and, ultimately, myself. Pemberton had three possible solutions to seeing Psalms like 137 in the Bible:
Before you rage quit. This is right, in the same way a cancer doctor talking about cancer is right. It’s missing the biggest number that was never given. To know God gives space for the primal yowl of true suffering. When we cry out in pain, it’s not about the words, but what those words mean. I sometimes think the creation of books has made us miss the many levels of language. Visual language. Inflection. Action. Sounds other than words. All of these things speak, but we only pay attention to the words themselves. When I was 19 my dad accidentally hit a dog. We pulled over. The dog was barking and biting at us. He was very hurt, and dying. Those sounds and bites were the dog not understanding what was happening to him, and telling us he was hurt. I don’t condemn the dog for speaking sorrow and pain and that manner. Why do we condemn the same thing from one another? When Pemberton ends the chapter saying this was about having words to pray for the suffering, I say no. They can never be the words of someone who isn’t living in that pain. Think of all those moments where we scream out in pain. Would you want someone imitating that to show solidarity? No. If you’ve lived it, you know. You can read Psalm 137 and understand the primal yowl. If you haven’t lived it, it is space to understand the language in a new way, and see 137 as a primal yowl. I let this Psalm speak- not because I believe the words, but because I see the suffering beyond them and let them publicly cry out in that pain. You are loved. God sees you. God hears you. -Pastor Melissa Fain- Sex. I need to get it out there before we begin. It’s not a dirty word, unless you’re in a Church. In a Church they don't even mention it, because no one, with their mild sensibilities, knows how to deal with that word.They know it must happen. After all, they want kids in the building, and almost all of them require that three letter world to come into existence. Just make sure the light’s turned off so Jesus doesn’t see. Before you clutch your pearls and run away, no one knows you’re reading this smut. You don’t have to tell a soul that you saw the word “sex,” and kept reading. I promise it all has to do with faith and God. (And for those who are turned away by those two words, it will also have to do with sex.) Covid and MasksDamn! I’m hitting all the spots I’m supposed to avoid, aren’t I? Long long ago, when we were talking about things going back to “normal” like we wanted the 80’s polka dots back, I realized things were not going back to normal. I also knew I was going to put my masks away. The question had to be asked: When would I take the masks back out? I decided if I was feeling a little under the weather without a temperature, I’d wear a mask. Well, wouldn’t you know, I felt a little under the weather last Saturday. I pulled out my mask, and put it on to go grocery shopping. Then I stopped myself. I actually considered what people would think seeing me in a mask when I haven’t worn them recently. Would they think I caught COVID and was going out with a very transmissible disease? I seriously considered putting that mask up! Just the illusion that I was doing something wrong filled me with horror. Then I realized, anyone could make up any damn thing they wanted about me and my family and I couldn’t stop them. What I could do, was keep my little runny nose to myself, and not give it to anyone else. Rolling my eyes, I put my mask on and did my grocery shopping. The Problem with Society Seeing Someone in "Sin."et’s say a 15 year old girl had sex and got pregnant. First of all, there is a boy involved too.This complicates things. It’s an action that took two people, but now there is only one who has to literally live with it every moment of every day. A friend from the long long ago once said to me, “All actions are selfish.” Oh did I clutch my own set of pearls with those words. I also spend a good part of my adult life testing those words against different people. (Which in my mind means they were good words if I carried them around with me for so long.) Whether it’s good or not, I feel there are ways to walk a selfless path. It’s just extremely difficult to do. Selfless people are difficult to find, because they don’t take credit for their work, and they are few and far between. Almost everyone, even the ones trying to be selfless, act from a want or a need, and want credit for it in the end. (I’ve talked about selfless and other-centered in the past, so check it out if your interested on my take.) When that 15 year old girl announces she’s pregnant, most people see a big pile of stinky doo-doo. The rule is: “Sex outside of wedlock is wrong,” so even being near that would give the illusion that anyone near the girl is also wrong. Therefore, she is ostracized, While not literal, the girl is told to wear Hester Prynne’s Scarlet Letter. This is really what gets me about these Evangelical churches.You are all pro-life until you have a girl who just made a poor decision, or was raped, or was lied to… Let’s be honest, she’s not going to talk about the decisions leading up to the act, and you are not going to ask, because once you discovered she was pregnant, you stopped caring about her story. She can’t take back what happened, but how the Church responds to her can change what she is going to do about it. Most of us are so selfish, we can’t live with a little crap to help a girl in need. I’m going to say this, and I mean it from the depths of my heart. It is the Evangelical Church that causes the most abortions in the United States. See, if that girl finds out she is now pregnant, no one would know she got pregnant and had an abortion. Everyone would know if she remained pregnant. I she got the abortion, she would be treated with the same love and respect as before. Very few would love her if she was an unwed, teenage mom. She might even believe she’s making the wrong choice getting an abortion, but when not getting an abortion looks the way it does… I can start to see why she would make that choice. After all, almost all of us are selfish creatures. We created the space where her only realistic action was abortion. Meanwhile, we praise the boy who chooses to make the hard choices and take care of the girl and baby. What a sacrifice on his part, amirite? The single mother who kept the baby and did it all by herself, doesn’t get the same praise. Being a Christ Follower Now vs judging things that cannot change.We do more to turn "sinners" into cautionary tales, than actually act like Christians towards them. If we don't turn them into living examples, we dissect them until they die from from it. Pick them apart piece by piece.
It's easier for society that way, while completely destroying the person in question. We do more to hide the problem rather than fix it. That's why cities put pointy granite under overpasses and build benches with arm rests in the middle- to hide homelessness. That's probably why we're uncomfortable seeing someone in a mask. It makes us question the idea of health. That's why we shun the 15 year old pregnant girl, so she'll go away and we don't have to think about it. Out of sight; out of mind. Only God's eyes see clearer than ours. We cannot change what has been done, but we can always change what we do about it. When we choose the hide the problem (and let me make this clear, the girl isn't a problem. What she's going to do by herself and how she is going to exist is our problem) we choose to put God's eyes on us. I don't want God looking at me that way. God, help me understand love. God, help me act in righteousness and humility. God, help me. -Pastor Melissa Fain- Madonna had been excommunicated by the Catholic Church. According to her, it was three times in all. It was amazing for her image. After the fact, people loved her even more. I can still remember the very first time she was excommunicated. I had forgotten that it all started with Pepsi. But I did remember the song in question: “Like a Prayer.” She skyrocketed once the Church openly declared she was outside of doctrine! They basically formed her into what she was going to become, and she was going to become a scandal to the Church and their systems. It was the first time I realized getting real attention to positively change a system required being absolutely hated by some. Not for the sake of being hated. I think there are those of us who love being hated just to be hated. Those are firestarters, and fires to just watch the flames are rarely good. No, I’m talking about a group hating you because it upsets their status quo in a way that points out hypocrisy, and usually by those who are the most comfortable. I somehow always knew I needed that kind of hate to really get something done. But I am nothing.More specifically, I’ve been “nothing’ed.” It’s what you do to people and groups that leave no sort of real impact at all. You say, “neat,” and move on, then in 8-10 years you think, “Oh, remember that thing Melissa did? I wonder how it’s going.” You search me up and either see I’ve quit or kept going. Your curiosity has been filled, and you once again put it all out of your memory and move on. I’m not saying that to be angry. To be very clear, I’m not. I’ve done it too. We can’t help but do it, and I’m one of the most forgettable people on planet Earth. Like so forgettable that when I would sit in a classroom the teacher would yell out, “Where’s Melissa?” and they would be looking right at me while saying it. So forgettable, that my first church job wrote out their history for their anniversary and I was completely written out. (It was a very small church. Only two jobs and I worked it for three years and held two positions.) So forgettable, that I was sitting in on a planning meeting for a Scout Project, a project I had been intimately involved in for the previous two years, and someone looked me in the eyes and said, “Who are you?” I am nothing. I have always been nothing. No one wants to hate me, because no one can remember me long enough to form any lasting opinions of me. I want to be hated.I know that’s hard to understand. Why would anyone want to be hated? Being hated doesn’t feel pleasant. It doesn’t bring accolades or fancy houses and cars. People don’t strive for hate. Only in my world, every day the time has run out. Either it ran out for some congregant or minister that was on the wrong side of a congregational power trip, or it ran out for a person that was on the wrong side of Clergy Abuse. Every day someone new is added to the displaced, broken and abused. It will always be better to be hated and stop the abuse, rather than being liked and know that brokenness continues. Or ignored. I’m ignored. I would love to be hated by Matt Walsh. He’s a theological idiot who has a following. But, instead I hate Walsh and in disliking what he says and does, he gets the focus. I’d love to be a thorn in Joel Osteen’s or Franklin Graham’s side. Only, no one wants to be theologically critical of American Evangelism aside from saying “Osteen bad!” and ignore a trend that continues to cause terrible things in local churches. More than anything though, I’d hate to be hated by the Christian Church, (Disciples of Christ). I love that tradition. I’m a Campbellite for life. There are people there I deeply care and love. Only… The tradition I love has chosen ignorance as their weapon against me and others.They have chosen to ignore me and hope my “sidetrack” magically ends. Did you know that the General Church has no idea that Fig Tree and I left the denomination? I took myself off a mailing list, and instead of getting a clue, I keep getting emails telling me I’m on their list and I really should re-subscribe to get information important to the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). If I just come back and begin helping them again, they’ll go back to pretending to help us. It’s that easy.
And it’s not like that tradition deserves to exist. There have been some toxic churches in the system. There have been power hungry clergy who brought down others through their power. There have been regions that quietly helped toxic churches get new ministers, and toxic ministers to get new churches. Their sins are easier to hide because of how much power the congregants hold within the denominational system. The thing I loved has been weaponized. It’s everywhere. I don’t want to be Madonna, wanting hate by the Church for the sake of publicity. I just know, if what I do actually makes a difference, it will probably be the Church who yells out in anger. I won’t be gleeful when it happens. You won’t see me enjoying any of it, but I’ll know we are not nothing anymore. -Pastor Melissa Fain- For years now, I’ve been vocally against cancel culture. It usually destroys a person that no longer exists (by seeking decades old Tweets and posts to find something inflammatory when that person wouldn’t do or say anything like that today). The event in question often lacks context to the culture and existing conditions surrounding the event itself. In a world where many are talking about restorative justice over retributive justice, we have no problem using the later to cut someone out, not restore or fix who they are. I believe this is because, our culture drools at the opportunity to watch someone implode and destruct. We can’t get literal death. We can’t force two people to fight it out in a large arena, but we can watch a figurative death through canceling. What was the Roman Arena? The Roman arena was the method for the government to focus the people’s bloodlust on something other than the government. “Justice” was the codeword to make the carnage make sense. Consider it, dying with a reason. It was justified to pit former soldiers against one another, because they would have been killed on the battlefield anyway, and they lost. It was justified to throw a bunch of Christians against a bunch of lions, because it was illegal to not worship a Roman god. Oh, the people loved it! They needed a reason to enjoy the ripping of flesh; the gushing of fluids. They wanted, while not wanting to admit they wanted it without a “justifiable” reason. Meanwhile, the Roman government was made to look like the arbiters of justice. The people being brutally killed had it coming, and it was simply Rome putting their comeuppance in one centralized location. Cancel Culture has failed The justification for Cancel Culture was simple: It’s a way to take down big voices who can’t be taken down any other way. In many ways, it was the corporation itself that was the target, not the people working for it. The people working for those corporations were used to hit the bigger target. Only, systems adjust. When the same formula is used time and time again, it becomes easier to shift away. At this point, we don’t care whether cancelling actually does anything for the broader culture. We just want to grab our popcorn and watch. It’s far more entertaining than the movies that are out right now. We want to put a little flame under them and see how they react! Are they going to pull someone down with them? Will there be blood?! What are they going to say? We don’t want the ones who accept their castration with grace and say the codewords to exit the arena. That’s no fun at all! We want the ones who keeps us on the edge of our seat as we gleefully watch a total personal meltdown! In that way, cancelling was dead on arrival. When looking at the purpose of cancelling, the ability to really hit big targets, it is decomposing in a ditch on the side of the road. None of that really matters to most. We must say we’re wanting the justice, because otherwise we just must be honest that we’re after the carnage. Don’t tell us the justice is no longer there or wasn’t there to begin with- then we must admit we are animals. And then there is the church...I’m more than a little irate that churches feel they’ve got this internet ministry down with a snazzy livecast. Good for you! You can make 20-60 minutes look and sound pleasing to the eye. /s Meanwhile, you are deep into the cancelling game. You are one of the big targets a growing number of former congregants are attempting to hit. You are so afraid of Christ’s death, you put a scapegoat in the target and “survive,” allowing the scapegoat to take the bullet. Ministry was never about HOW you do things, but WHAT you are doing. So many churches have absolutely no understanding of the culture outside their building. Meanwhile, the churches want to evangelize outside their building like the inside is the outside. The best definition I’ve ever gotten for evangelism is this: Evangelism is finding God in the community and showing that to the people.
More than anything, if you want to live, like really live, you need to take the bullet and trust God is on the other side of it. Stop playing the same corporate game and giving the popcorn eaters fodder. If that last sentence doesn’t make sense to you- well, that’s because you don’t know the culture you are trying to reach. Like I already said, like I’ve been saying for nearly a decade. For some reading on Roman Arenas and martyrs, click link:
https://www.academia.edu/30201719/Gladiators_and_Martyrs_Icons_in_the_Arena -Pastor Melissa Fain- This week, I began reading Dr Glenn Pemberton’s book, Hurting with God: Learning to Lament with the Psalms. Just so you know, I will be doing a Tuesday’s Review on it. This is not a review, but an initial feel after getting a couple of chapters in. A Breath of Fresh Air Those who have been with me, know that I’ve been delving into some bad theology on purpose. It’s for a good reason (because these theologies haven’t been taken seriously by the academic circles, they haven’t been authentically torn apart). It just left me feeling icky all over. Someone has to eventually pump the septic system, but it’s not fun and you don’t finish smelling like roses. It was just so nice to read the first chapter, and have it start by telling me where I’m going. This is in stark contrast to Ravi Zacharias who basically threw me on a tilt-o-whirl and said, “This is the truth because I said it is.” Even Zacharias’ set up is never really explored or answered. Y’all have no idea how comforting a good setup can feel until you’ve been slung around by a bad one. It is especially important considering the subject matter. Something else I had no idea I needed was citations to referenced Scripture. One of the bigger problems with the bad theology is this need to put production over accountability. When I’m reading or listening to someone, I want to look at sources. Heck, when I see memes on Facebook, I’m often researching the root, so I know who posted it and why! If I’m doing that with something as trivial as memes, I’d better not have to do it with commentary on Scripture! I’ve been listening to and reading these amazingly crafted commentaries on scripture, and no one wants to drop the chapter and verse! Pemberton drops all the Scriptures like a hot album everyone needs to listen to. More than that, when I see the Scripture, I’m not thinking, “Wait, I don’t remember that verse being understood in that way,” and stopping what I’m doing to do secondary commentary on his primary commentary. Conversely, I have read what he’s written, and can see the background puzzle pieces that came together to make the point real. Living in the Real WorldYesterday, I was reading pages 15-30 of Max the Mighty to 7th graders. They were very real pages for me, because I had a very similar event happen when I was only 8 years old. For those willing to spend the $4, it’s a scary accurate look at domestic abuse. For those who don’t, the main character saves a girl from a potentially deadly situation, and discovers the police believe the abuser.
I asked God to make my second half of my life better than my first. (True, I asked God for this at 12, so I didn’t quiet get the concept of ½ my life.) The point is, part of my healing this second time around with Church trauma, is coming to terms with the reality of it all. I might not get a happy ending. The second half of my life might be as rough as the first half. It’s not about finding God at the end of the rainbow, it’s about finding God in the storm that comes to bring the rainbow. What Pemberton has given me in a just a few chapters is God. He didn’t physically write this, but they were in his words: “Remember when you balled yourself up and wept? You trusted God enough to go there.” Do you have any idea how comforting that thought is for those who are suffering and suffered trauma? Immense. If God is real, then God is real in our reality. If God is love, then why would God punish us for trusting God enough with our truths? I’m ready for this book. I’m ready for real. -Pastor Melissa Fain- Have you ever met someone who is so perfectly named for their job? Like a carpenter named Smith, or a jeweler named Diamond? You’d think something like that only happens in cartoons in comics. Maleficent literally means to cause harm on a supernatural scale. Lafou, from Beauty and the Beast, literally translates to “the fool.” Cinderella comes from the joining of “cinders” being the last of the dying coals, and “ella” meaning beautiful. When these things work out in real life, you begin to wonder if their names influenced their life choices, or if those names really were perfect for who they would eventually be. Becoming FainWhen I realized I would be Pastor Fain, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it.I l already aware of the word, “feign.” It is pronounced the same and means to fake, pretend or invent.
Being a minister of anything with the last name of Feign would be unfortunate indeed. But my name isn’t “Feign,” it’s “Fain.” To “fain” has a completely different meaning than to “feign.” To fain is to do something with pleasure, or willingly under the circumstances. When I learned what “fain” meant, it immediately felt incredibly right. It is extremely hard for me to feign anything. I am uncomfortably real. I hate pretense, and feel like a charlatan among the pomp and circumstance. Yet, the above is what people naturally think when they hear my name, and probably think even more when they realize the ministry is online. “Oh, your Pastor FAIN?! You mean Pastor Fake! You’re just pretending to do church, I see. Stop playing pretend and go do some real work!” But, Pastor FAIN isn’t Pastor Fake. That would be Pastor Feign. I’m Pastor Fain, and despite the overwhelming lack of support for a growing number of people attempting to find God in this ever growing wilderness, I take my call with joy and (mostly) willingly. I am faining love in a world that mostly feigns it. So you see? I married into the perfect name to be an online minister. I'm Pastor Melissa Fain. I'm real, and I don't feign anything. -Pastor Melissa Fain- 4 Love is patient, love is kind, it isn’t jealous, it doesn’t brag, it isn’t arrogant, 5 it isn’t rude, it doesn’t seek its own advantage, it isn’t irritable, it doesn’t keep a record of complaints, 6 it isn’t happy with injustice, but it is happy with the truth. 7 Love puts up with all things, trusts in all things, hopes for all things, endures all things. 8 Love never fails. -1 Cor 13:4-8a CEB Do you know the number one phrase I hear when I leave a group or organization? “We should have supported you more.” No one can do it alone. No. One. Even Mr. Rogers was well aware that his show was not the work of him alone. He had a team that made it happen: “My hunch is that anyone who has ever been able to sustain good work has had at least one person- and often many- who have believed in him or her. We just don’t get to be competent human beings without a lot of different investments from others.” The Opposite of LoveThe opposite of love is not hate. Hate shows someone is thinking about you. Hate is not love, but it’s also not the opposite of love. The opposite of love is nothing. Not that there are no objects, feelings or things that sit opposite of love, but that the non-action, non-feeling, non-doing for people is the opposite of love. I don’t normally just sit in a group. I am rarely passive. I see something that needs to happen, and I act. If I can’t act, I find someone who can. The idea of just watching something broken continue to break, baffles me. The apathy alone required to watch something not work boggles my mind. But when I leave an organization or group- I’ve given so much of myself, and never saw the same support in return. When that happens I don’t think about what I deserve or want. I think how all the resources are now out of my hands, so there is nothing more I can do. It’s like tossing a ball to a friend, and the friend just saying thank you and walking away. I have no more balls to throw, so my job here is done. So, the statement, “We should have supported you more,” is a realization that they didn’t show the same amount of love I showed them. They didn’t consider how I attempted to create a relationship. They just wanted my resources to do what they wanted to do. They nothing’d me. My value was only to achieve their goals. I used to lament with the group or organization when this would happen. It’s just this phrase has been said to me so often, I just shrug my shoulders and move on. They might as well be saying, “You loved us, and we didn’t love you.” Love is a healthy relationshipJust know, no relationship is completely and totally healthy. Sometimes we lose our cool, or forget the needs of those closest to us. Part of love is understanding the true nature of our actions and being there when we mess up. In that way, love is patient and kind. Also know, we don’t require the person or people all the time. We and they have lives beyond us. Sometimes they may need people with a different skill set than us. Sometimes they may get something that we secretly want for ourselves, but we’re happy for them. In that way, love isn’t jealous. When we are in a relationship for ourselves, we want the world to see our actions. Real love acts for the person, and isn’t concerned about who sees it. Love doesn’t brag, it isn’t arrogant, it isn’t rude, it doesn’t seek its own advantage, it isn’t irritable, it doesn’t keep a record of complaints. But love can hurt. Deeply hurt. In the act of seeking the Truth, many accidentally or intentionally try to stop it. When someone loves, they seek it anyway. It’s one of the most uncomfortable parts of love, but in love it must be explored. Love will seek what is just and right. Love is what endures when everything else ends. Christmas Eve there will be an event at www.Facebook.com/FigTreeChristian.
10 pm EST there will be a "bringing in of the light." It will be a telling of the Christmas story. -Pastor Melissa Fain- Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! Zephaniah 3:1 My childhood church had something called, “Children’s Moment.” It’s a moment in worship where all the kids are brought up front, and an adult teaches them a very-important-lesson. This particular lesson happened one of the Sunday’s leading up to Christmas. The lady teaching us had a bag full of tiny presents. The lesson was simple, as all these lessons were: Jesus is the real present for Christmas. She then gave us one of the wrapped presents, and the lesson was done. I think it took about three hours before I had to know what was behind that wrapping paper. It was a piece of wood. It was nothing. When a good illustration turns badAs an adult, I know the present couldn’t be a real present. As a kid, my brain started seeing those fake presents in department stores, and under Church trees as the wrong “Jesus.” I knew they were just beautifully wrapped empty boxes. "There’s Jesus." /s I’m sure the little old lady who led that Children’s Moment would be mortified to know that’s how my brain worked, but not too mortified. I was an Uber-Christian back then. I knew Jesus wasn’t empty boxes, but it didn’t stop my brain from constantly making that connection. But honestly, y’all! I’ve seen so many empty box Christians out there! They are all focused on making the wrapping work, they forget that God doesn’t trick us with empty boxes. God’s present is NEVER empty. The inside, the purpose, the meaning is what's important; not whether the sound system is on point, or the lighting is tight. God’s present usually doesn’t always come with beautiful wrapping paper and a nice bow. God's present is always meaningful and real. Yet, we get so caught up on the wrapping, we forget the present within. It’s all beautifully wrapped emptiness. Highly produced nothingness. No Jesus here. Look at it and move on. This is what happens when one tries to go straight to Joy; attempting to skip Hope and Peace. It’s not real and it can never be real. Real Joy happens when you break through the shadow of Peace and actually see that Christmas light for the first time. That’s when you realize the Hope you found back when you had no idea what God was giving you, is actually real! Only the people who have actually taken God's hope, and walked it through peace know what I'm talking about. You can’t sing yourself to it. You can’t decorate yourself to it. You can only get there by taking the long path through Peace. Stop planning your joy. Just stop.It's like a rollercoaster. You can be at a park and choose to walk to the coaster. You can stand before the coaster, and choose to get in line. You can't control the experience once you are strapped in for the ride.
That's Godly Joy. It's unpredictable, and happens because you made that initial choice to follow God's call and began the hard work to reach that call. After that, you can't plan or work to reach it. Godly Joy doesn't happen because it just happens to be our Christmas season. It doesn't happen because we watched the correct Christmas movie combination, or listened to our favorite Christmas jams. You can't bake or wrap your way to it. It will happen when it happens. The real gift is Jesus, but Jesus isn't a beautifully wrapped box of nothing. Jesus was, is, and always will be real. |
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