 -Rev Melissa Fain- I was sitting on the mountain, about ready to begin climbing again. when it happened. True, I was sitting on the edge. I should have stayed back. Edges are dangerous, but I wanted to survey how far I'd come. I wasn't the kid anyone thought would amount to anything. I was surely not the one who could seek out, and obtain the proper training. I was a mess. A child who was socially feral. Yet, here I was. I was a trailblazer, anointed to lead groups on God's mountain. Then a group member came. "Have you rested enough?" he asked. "Oh, I'm ready to get back! I'm ready to really..." That's as far as I got, because with both hands he shoved. I fell. So hard I fell. It hurt. With a smile on his face, he yelled, "From hearing your story, you'll be back up here soon enough!" Then he was gone. I tried to do anything, even sit up. I was truly broken. I could hear the breaks. I could see the breaks. I was oozing brokenness. I cried. I yowled. It was the only action I had. A broken woman at the bottom of a majestic mountain. Then she picked me up. She had been pushed too, and she too had been broken. She stayed near the base because she wanted to be the one to offer first aid to people like me. She didn't heal me. First aid is never about healing. She set my breaks, and provided essential ointment. The most important words came from her mouth, "You are not alone." I'd like to say those words were simply a comfort. True, they were like a soft and warm blanket wrapped around me, but they were something else too. You know that plastic thread that sometimes comes loose? Those things are so annoying. They itch you until you pull out the scissors and cut them off. That blanket had one of those. Part of me wanted to be alone. Not because being alone made me special or unique. Being alone made my experience an aberration, an outlier. Her words told me this was epidemic. Sitting on the dusty ground, wrapped in a blanket, I took in my situation with new eyes. I looked up. New rivers of grief began to spill down my face, as I looked at my previously worn trail. I saw the place I tripped, but quickly got back up. I saw the place where I made it over the big boulder. I saw it all. Blood. Sweat. Tears. All that work wiped away in one tragic push. Wiping my face clear, I got up and went back, so I could look at the mountain as a whole. My plan was to find a new path, a new way up. What I saw broke my heart. On a path I played on in my youth, I could see my friends pushing someone else off the the mountain. Then I saw the big picture. Bodies were flying off the mountain. Some were being pushed, and others were shoved like me. Still others were being knifed first. The mountain I had first looked upon with such desire was transforming into a twisted scene of carnage. I searched for a Cave of Knowledge. Surely I'd learn some crucial piece to this bloody puzzle. I remembered the mountain had some amazing caves. All the knowledge was helpful towards the climbing experience. There was a zeal to learning that information. I ripped through those pages, soaking in whatever I could. Excited to learn about pretty much anything related to the mountain. Now I was on a different mission. Finding a cave, I also found someone from my party. She had made her way down to help in whatever way she could. She came with access to the history of that specific path. Their history told it all. I read a history of trail blazers. Stories of celebration and accomplishment. Then something happened. Half the group went to blaze their own trail. To those left, it felt like deception. For so long they had blazed the trail together. This new group took the trailblazer with them. In an attempt to recover what they lost, they brought on a new trailblazer. That's when the story became interesting. Without fail, every trailblazer they brought on wanted to begin climbing, or come to terms with the path the other group had blazed. Each time, when they rallied the group, the group would push them off. By the time they brought me on as a trailblazer, the other group's trail had long grown over. Nary a sign they had even existed, but their impact on those who were left remained. I looked up at the mountain again with even newer eyes. There were those who had been pushed who were cautiously climbing back up. I could see them avoiding the edge, turning around when the groups began to look wary. Hardly any group was actually moving. Sure, the trailblazers were trained to blaze trails, but no one was doing it past the base. It was too dangerous. The only ones who tried were so new. Without realizing what I was doing, I fearfully put my hand out to these new trailblazers. They couldn't hear if I cried out to them, but I feared for them none-the-less. I said goodbye to my former party member. She had chosen to leave the party that pushed me, and join another trail up the mountain. I didn't head for the mountain at all. It still looked warped and menacing. The more I looked at it it, the more damage I saw. Trailblazers pushing party members. Party members pushing party members. I saw rangers going between the trails. Instead of helping the piles of broken people at the base, they were telling other trails there was nothing to see. They were hiding what was so obvious when one was off the mountain. Then there were the broken. True, there were the ones who cautiously began to climb again. In their caution, they were missing out on the adventure and possibility, because they had to constantly look for pushers. That was only a small group. There were so many more fleeing for the wilderness. Carefully, I made my way there. I was too broken to go climbing, and I wanted to see what others were saying away from the mountain. The noise was deafening. Everyone was speaking, so essentially almost nothing could be heard. There were megaphones though. They spoke up above the mass. Their story was angry. In their pain, they wanted to rip the mountain down. At first these speeches scared me. True, I could no longer see the mountain the way I had, but I knew it's importance. Then I realized it was all bark and no bite. They knew what they wanted, but they didn't have solutions or plans of action. They were essentially stealing the only voice these broken people had, to yell in anger about nothing. My heart wept. I drew close to some. They had been blinded by the hot sun. So many around them, and yet their cries were the same, "I'm so broken. I'm so alone." I yelled back, "You are not alone! You are not alone, and we can fix this!" I needed one of those megaphones, because I was not loud enough! No one with a megaphone wanted to pass theirs over, and I couldn't be heard in the mass. Therefore, I went further out. I left the others and made my home in the desert. "You are not alone," became my mantra. I knew I couldn't be heard out in the middle of nothing. No one there to hear, but I was patient. "You are not alone!" Then someone came over, and then another. Somehow, across the desert, they heard the mantra. "I am not alone?" they'd ask. "You are not alone," I'd reply. "We are not alone," became the new mantra. Now here we are: A sacred remnant from a broken mountain. We provide the critical spiritual care after the First Aid is done. Some stay and help. Some take the healing and head back up the mountain. (I notice they tend to enjoy the views.) Some do both. I am the trailblazer that hasn't climbed in 6 1/2 years, yet I'm somehow still blazing trails. Fig Tree is everywhere! Well not really everywhere, but there are other places to find us!
On Facebook: www.Facebook.com/FigTreeChristian On Twitter: www.Twitter.com/FigTreeTweet On Reddit: www.Reddit.com/r/FigTreeChristian Check out these different sites, and how they are unique and connect to God in a secular world. Then show up at 2pm on our Facebook page, as we learn about the bible and God, and connect with worship in a sacred way.  -Rev Melissa Fain- I looked at his words. He wanted to know the purpose of what was happening. What was my end goal?
Perhaps I should take a step back. Hello, my name is Pastor Melissa, I'm the minister of FIg Tree Christian Church. I was also a moderator of a medium sized subreddit, /r/Christianity. I'm now an outsider, kicked out of the promised land because I've also been demodded and banned. Now, I'm not here to get into the details of this, and even linking them could be a form of brigading. I am here to discuss a troubling truth that came out of the experience, and what I plan to do about it. There are no rules regarding cyber-bullying on Reddit. In and of itself, there is a self-correction built into the site. Reddit is made up of thousands of subs all led by a volunteer squad of moderators. Each sub has its own rules, and many of those subs have rules that quash bullying fast. The ones that don't, usually get bullies down-voted to oblivion or the whole sub dies out. This is how users are kept in line online. When there are 12-22 year olds seeing how the internet works, it's good to know there are people out there that will show them that kind of behavior is wrong, and take action against it. Unless you are a mod. While there is moderation of users, there is no moderation of moderators. Top moderators can be as abusive as they want, and it isn't even called abuse. In small subs, the solution is usually the sub dying a miserable death. In medium to large subs, it's like giving a bully a free pass to Switzerland. In those circumstances, moderators can be as verbally and emotionally abusive as they want, and the admins on Reddit will do absolutely nothing to stop it unless those moderators take that abuse outside of the site. Well, now it's time for it to stop. We need a Moderation of Moderators (MoM). I'm standing up to the abuse, and to the people being abused. If you have been verbally and emotionally abused by a moderator, please send me your stories to FigTreeChristian@yahoo.com or PM your story to /u/RevMelissa. I want to share your story. Is the abuse ongoing still? Request to keep your username out of it, and I will respect that wish. Also, use the hashtag, #ModeratorAbuse. I will follow it on @FigTreeTweet and share the stories on twitter. Together, we can open Reddit's eyes, and help them realize they need to take action against cyber-bullying on the internet.  -Rev Melissa Fain- Last Sunday I discussed the death of Christian Music. Today, I want to put much of what I said into written form for easy digestion and sharing. The death of Borders took Christian Music and the last vestiges of evangelism with it. I'm sure this isn't something that those great minds wheezing over dusty tomes are thinking, but it's true. I also know it's strange to give a secular answer that doesn't involve Boomers or Millennials. It seems like I should be blaming some age demographic. It's, in some way, an outsider problem. In fact, we should look for more secular signs to our religious problems. Like, I worked for a church that saw a boom in youth membership in the late 90's then saw a drastic drop a decade later. They praised their leadership for the early years and was upset with the minister in the later years. That was until I pulled out the Census data that showed the area saw a correlating growth and drop in youth to that community during those two periods. Problems always have ancillary causes. I'm going to tackle this in three pieces. 1. The Biblical idea of Secular Faith 2. The Secular Loss of Modern Faith using Borders 3. What can we do about it? The Biblical Idea of Secular FaithFor the past few years I've taken my son to Cub Scout Day Camp. In our area, that happens at a Mormon Church. I remember my first year, I was genuinely curious what a Mormon Church looked like. When we showed up for the preview day, everywhere was open to the public except the Sanctuary. On the doors there were signs: You are welcome to move around the church, but please do not pass these doors. It is sacred space. They earned so much respect in my book that day. I think one of the biggest problems we have as a people of faith, is our inability to understand secular God moments and worship God moments. There is a difference, but since we almost exclusively hear the biblical stories in a worship setting, we struggle knowing what that difference is. Miriam's joyous song during the Exodus does not happen in a worship setting. It happens, in what I would assume, would be the muddy banks, after escaping the Egyptians. It was about God, and it was to God, but it wasn't a song sung in the sacred setting of the temple. -Exodus 15 The Ethiopian Eunuch wasn't even invited into the sacred house of worship. In a secular moment, Phillip connects and leads someone towards Christ. -Acts 8 I can already hear the major argument playing out in my head: God is everywhere, so worship is everywhere. Well, yes and no. On one side, Jesus had to leave the temple in order reach a new demographic. On the other side, the fall of the temple was never talked about in tone of celebration. Fig Tree has worship. We understand that God can be anywhere and at any time. We choose to set aside a specific time and place to engage in a sacred experience. Worship is inherently different than everything else, but God is still in everything else and the connection happens differently. I know that thought can read a little confusing, but let me use Borders to explain. The Secular Loss of Modern FaithI still miss Borders. I used to purchase random books from their clearance section, and read them in their small cafe. It suffered the fate many stores suffered in the 2000's. The physical bookstore just hasn't been able to compete with digital media and online sales. Borders, and the still existing Barnes and Noble, were beasts. Warner Brothers even rebooted Sleepless in Seattle to do You've Got Mail. (I kid, but whose waiting for the Snapchat version?) But, as these behemoths have fallen, they have taken out smaller, less noticeable beasts with them. One of the casualties is the Christian Bookstore. I said I missed Borders; I also miss Family Bookstore. Those who know me, know I used to sing to those Christian Karaoke tracks. There used to be a section in all Family Bookstores, of Christian tapes and CDs. (Yes, this was back when people still used cassette tapes.) It always included a section of karaoke tracks with a player to listen to your potential purchase. If you turned around in this section you would walk right into the Christian CD collection. Now, Christian Bookstores were the best thing that happened to Christian music. When it all comes down to it, we need to do something that garners a monetary value. In other words, we need money to buy food and pay for a place to live. This is true for us, and it's true for Christian Artists. That money didn't come from radio spots, but from record sales.It wasn't like traditional record stores were selling these CDs. It was the Christian Book Store. It was during this time artists were able to explore their connection to God outside of a worship setting. Yes, you read that right. This music was an exploration of God in a secular world, and some of it was actually kinda good! These artists were not considering if their music would be appropriate before or after the sermon. It wasn't written to play in the background while the ushers or deacons collected the offering. It was meant to be belted in the car, sung in the shower, and while you were cleaning your sink! They were secular expressions of God and they were awesome! Then the Christian bookstore slowly died, and so did these artist's paycheck.Then, so did the music. I think Christian Pop Music is a great example of secular experiences with the divine, and it's importance. Is the toilet you clean a sanctuary? (Don't seriously answer that.) Not really, but can one have a secular experience with God in the midst of work? Yeah! Is /r/Christianity a church? No! Does countless people find a connection to God within their daily interactions? With interactions in general online? Yeah! That doesn't make it the set aside time we give to worship of the our Holy God. It still makes it important. What Can We Do About It?Well crap! The Christian bookstore is dead. Now what do we do? While I liked the ease at which I could find the right musical track, there were tons of things wrong with it. I'd dare say it was almost too secular in some ways. As with all things, there is a tension we should maintain.. There was so much bad on one end, we couldn't see the good on the other. There was so much wrong with it, we never realized the nuggets of gold being lost in the process. I do think we need to do a better job of understanding the difference between the worship of God in a church or tabernacle and the secular expression of God. Doing so, would help us understand Evangelism better (which usually happens in secular expressions.) It will also help us understand the unique and sacred language of Church. What can you personally do about it? Write, sing, design secular expressions of God. Give yourself something to once again sing in the shower. Celebrate God moments in silly conversations, and heartbreaking loss. Instead of trying to find church in everything, define church better, and find God in everything. Fig Tree is everywhere! Well not really everywhere, but there are other places to find us!
On Facebook: www.Facebook.com/FigTreeChristian On Twitter: www.Twitter.com/FigTreeTweet On Reddit: www.Reddit.com/r/FigTreeChristian Check out these different sites, and how they are unique and connect to God in a secular world. Then show up at 2pm on our Facebook page, as we learn about the bible and God, and connect with worship in a sacred way.  -Rev Melissa Fain- I was nineteen or twenty years old. Communion had just been passed and I was praying as we waited for everyone else to get their elements. This was and is normal for me. My deepest prayers take place moments before we partake of the body and blood. If I were to be honest with myself, this is why I used to like to sitting up front as a congregant.. Communion comes to me at the beginning, and it gives me more time to pray. Anyway, that morning I prayed to be given something that I could give to someone else. (This was also how I used to pray. It was vague, and searched for calling.) It was after we took communion that my hands felt like they were super charged. A strong feeling of purpose overcame me. The next person I hugged would get this power. For the remainder of worship I sat with my hands palm up, It was an intense feeling, and one that hasn't been repeated to this day. As the closing prayer came to it's "Amen," I began to look around for the recipient of this special hug. Everyone around me looked content, and busy. No one particularly looked like they needed support, all except one. One of my friend's, his mother looked broken and lost. She was the one. As I approached her, she saw me. Then she, without any words or thoughts, hugged me. I felt the energy drain from my hands as I hugged back. I realized in that moment, that God's call is often to do something, but it's not our place to choose who to do it for. I was disarmed that day, in more than one way. I felt power, and I held it, but it wasn't mine to keep or choose how it was going to be used. We are called, as a people of God, to be continually disarmed. God's power is a form of servitude, Where the leader is called to wash the feet of the followers, and die for their sake. We can't possibly live up to that example, but we can emulate it the best we know how, by being instruments of God's peace. May God disarm all of us this new year, and may that disarming bring God's power to those who need it most. Dragon School Oxford: |
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