The American-Christian Confusion: The Tale of Terry Jones and His Magnificent Handlebar Mustache

by Ian McLoud

Okay, you absolutely have got to read this: “Pastor Terry Jones Arrested Before He Could Burn Qurans.”

That guy is crazy right? And by “that guy,” in case you didn’t read it, I mean Terry Jones, everyone’s favorite Muslim-hating, Quran-burning, Christian pastor. He decided, along with his associate pastor, to gather up about 3,000 Qurans, soak them in kerosene, load them up in a giant barbeque grill and tow said grill to a park in order to burn them. This would, in his mind, best commemorate those souls who were killed on September 11, 2001. Unfortunately for him he was arrested because, among many other things, he was transporting fuel illegally. Who even knew that was a law? I see you Polk County Sheriff deputies; keep up the good work.

Now, I’ve not talked with Terry, but I’m certain he’s upset. And I’m certain he feels that his rights as a US citizen, mainly those of freedom of speech and self-expression, are being attacked. You may remember that this is not the first time this guy has tried to burn Qurans. To my knowledge he’s only been successful once, which must be so frustrating. I mean, you work on this grand elaborate plan and every time you get so close, so very close, to executing that plan someone comes along and tells you to stop. Talk about the man keeping you down.

And this time, not only could he not burn his Qurans, he was arrested for some joke charge like transporting fuel illegally and not following open-carry laws. Talk about not respecting your rights. And, icing on the cake, his assistant pastor gets in trouble for not having the right registration for his giant grill-trailer. What is this, communist Russia?! So you can see why Terry might be upset. The constitution says he has a right to burn all the Qurans he wants to, but every time he gets close someone gets in the way! They’re just books. What’s the big deal?

I don’t like this story. I’d almost say I hate it, but that’s not quite accurate. I’m disappointed by this story, but not because Terry Jones is having his rights violated. I’m disappointed because some out there will only see that a Christian has made the news again for being flagrantly provocative. And, on the other hand, I’m disappointed that several Christians are probably upset right now that he was “persecuted,” that he wasn’t allowed to exercise his right to freedom of speech and self-expression. And that is my problem, really. Our knee-jerk appeal to our rights as US citizens.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m thankful for the Bill of Rights; I’m grateful to be living in a country where, for the most part, people are allowed to live as they wish inside the bounds of the law. But I don’t like the mindset that often permeates Christian thought in the US, were our first instinct is to define ourselves first as American citizens, rather than holding that our identity comes from Christ. We cling to our rights, but we cling to the wrong rights. And I say we because I have done this, I do this, and I will probably continue to on some level or another. All too often Christians in the US feel like we have to stand up for our rights. That we have to use our rights to force some opinion on others because we can and because it’s what God would want. But what if we’re wrong?

Paul talks about just this sort of thing in 1 Corinthians 9:1-19, especially 12-19. He has a right to marry. He has a right to expect the churches in Corinth to support him, since he worked among them to bring the Gospel. But he doesn’t make use of those rights. Rather, Paul forgoes them so that “no obstacle may be placed in the way of the Gospel.” Let’s make sure we understand what’s being said here. Terry Jones probably feels like his rights have been taken from him because he can’t burn some books. Paul is telling us his rights too have been repealed, there’s no question about that, but that he has repealed them himself. He has willingly forsworn what he was entitled to, for the sake of the kingdom.

Stop and think about that for a moment. Would you give up your right to seek a spouse? Would you go to your employer and say, “Hey I’ll work for free if it means I can preach the Gospel once a week at lunch?” What rights are we willing to just give away so as to not put an obstacle in front of the Gospel. Because that’s our call; to seek first and foremost God’s kingdom, long before our political rights enter the equation.

And this is why I don’t like this story about Terry Jones. I don’t like the idea that underlies it. I’m sure most Christians would agree that what Terry Jones was trying to do is wrong. But I’m not so sure that most Christians would agree that we needn’t always use all the rights that the constitution grants us.

But that’s exactly what Paul is getting at and that’s exactly what being a Christian is about: giving up our rights so that the ultimate goal of spreading the Gospel can be achieved. You know, the whole turning the other cheek and all that. What the issue really comes down to is: how do we define ourselves? Are we, to quote Lee Camp, American Christians or Christian Americans? The answer to that question, and the life that it entails, may just undo a lot of the Terry Jonesing in the world. 

Ian is the Youth and Family Minister at the Lakehoma Church of Christ in Mustang, Oklahoma. You can follow him on Twitter @KindaScottish.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
 
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• The Meaning of Loyalty (or, Why My Dad Became a Braves Fan)
• On Oklahoma
• I Love Sister Wives

The Meaning of Loyalty (or, Why My Dad Became a Braves Fan)

by Ian McLoud

I grew up in Saginaw, Texas, a town whose only claim to something better than obscurity is its massive grain elevators - some of the biggest ever built, because this is Texas after all, and even small towns here need the biggest something to prove the Texas bravado. Anyway. I grew up in Texas.

Two sports existed in our household: football and baseball.  Nothing else counted.  Basketball is played by a bunch of “wannabe-gangster-thug-rappers,” or so my dad said. Hockey is just plain boring, unless Coach Bombay is there telling us all about the triple-deke, the flying V and quacking.

My dad, a man I admire more and more as I get older, was a fan of the Dallas Cowboys and the Texas Rangers. We never went to Cowboys games, but I remember the Ballpark at Arlington, in all its beautiful, green, majestic glory. I, however, wasn’t a Cowboys fan, or a Rangers fan. 

I was a Green Bay Packers fan and an Atlanta Braves fan. The Braves make sense; I spent summers in Georgia with my grandparents and when Grandpa went to bed, Grandma and I would stay up late and watch the Braves. Grandma would scream and scream at Chipper, Glavine, Maddux and Smoltz. Mostly Chipper, and often so loud I was afraid Grandpa would wake up and tell us to go to bed. I liked Green Bay because I was weird and also, one time they won a Super Bowl while I happened to be watching.

But my dad was a die-hard fan of Texas teams. Sundays in the fall meant the Cowboys were on. Summers meant talking about Rangers baseball.

So it struck me as really odd when, after a move to Georgia, my dad began rooting for the Falcons and the Braves. I understood the Braves because they’re awesome, but at the time, the Falcons were even worse than the Cowboys. I asked dad what was up with this sudden change of heart; he said something along the lines of, “We live in Georgia now,” and I probably made some crack about him needing to learn the meaning of loyalty.

As I get older though, I view that response differently. My dad, a former minister, was doing something that I now realize had an importance all its own: he was trying to relate to his new neighbors, new friends and a new church community. He was, to quote Paul, “becoming all things to all people.”  That may sound weird; all he did was change his allegiance to sports teams.

Big deal, who cares? But looking back, I can see how the people he met cared. He could converse with them about a subject that they both knew something about. No one in Georgia cared about the Rangers, or the Packers, or the majestic grain elevators of Saginaw, Texas. But they did care about the Falcons and most definitely the Braves.

My dad had this whole idea of understanding a new culture and building relationships that bridged the gap. He could relate to people in this new environment on a level that I simply couldn’t because I was stubbornly sticking to my Brett Favre (pre-Jets) loving ways. He could connect and build relationships whereas I was still an outsider. And from him, I learned the importance of culture and relationship building before it became the trend du jour. (Hey! My dad’s a Christian Hipster!)

He was acting out the all things to all people that Paul was talking about. And while I don’t think Paul was envisioning sports fandom exactly, still, it works. Especially in a society where our sports affiliation is seen as a key to our identity.

So yeah, my dad wasn’t loyal to the Cowboys or the Rangers. He’s not even really loyal to the Falcons or the Braves. But he’s loyal to God and to people. And sometimes, that means giving up things we desire in the pursuit of connecting with others. 

Ian is the Youth and Family Minister at the Lakehoma Church of Christ in Mustang, Oklahoma. You can follow him on Twitter @KindaScottish.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.
 
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On Oklahoma

Editors note: I lived in Oklahoma for four years during college and I learned to regard tornadoes as something akin to mythical beasts. They existed, but they were always just far enough away to not be dangerous yet close enough to still be powerful. I had friends who would chase storms for fun and friends who would stay locked inside the bathroom until they heard the all clear. During my senior year, I watched from the balcony of my apartment as a tornado touched down just a few miles north.

Everybody has a tornado story in Oklahoma. But there was always one story that all the natives knew and spoke of in hushed, serious voices: The one that hit Moore in 1999. I remember one of my friends telling me that eight years later Moore was still recovering and that it still had years to go.

And now this. Yesterday, yet another major tornado touched down in Moore and followed much the same path as the one in 1999. 51 were killed including at least 20 children. Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.

Today, as an act of communal lament, we're going to run a piece written by friend Ian who lives in Mustang a few miles west of Moore. After the piece, I'll include several links to places where you can donate/volunteer/give blood. This is what families do. They hurt together. They cry together. They help together. They build together.

Lord, hear our prayer.

by Ian McLoud

At times like this we want to try and make sense of what's happening. Well meaning people will say things like, “God will work through this disaster,” but to those who are living with through the horror of this, it just sounds like empty platitudes. Less well meaning people will find someone to blame whether that someone be God or the people of Oklahoma, or who knows. Blame follows pain. 

While it may be true that God will work through this disaster, that God is to blame or any number of caveats revealed after the fact, all of these responses are the wrong one. They’re wrong because they take away from the pain that is still happening, right now.

At times like this people need to grieve. They need to scream. They need to cry. Let them be angry with God. Let them scream at Him. Allow people to mourn. Allow people, to quote Dr. John Dorian, to “feel their feelings, Turk!” No one can explain why yesterday’s tornado happened. And what good would it do to try? 

During times of disaster, niceties are as useless to our sense of well-being as the carbon dioxide expelled from our mouth in the process. Nothing makes sense in a disaster. Nothing makes sense in a tragedy. 

In the wake of F4 tornadoes, the Boston marathon bombing, the Aurora shooting and countless other tragedies that happen on a daily basis, what can be said that will bring things back to normal? What words can be said to a family that has just lost their house that will make that loss okay or bring their house back from rubble? What words can be said to a grieving parent that will lessen the sting of knowing they will have to bury a child? Were Job’s friends truly of any comfort to him? Does the Psalmist find comfort in knowing that at some point, but not right now, God will take care of his enemies? Job wanted to make sense of his suffering right then and there. The Psalmist wanted immediate action taken against his enemies. Who can offer that to those affected by the tornado yesterday?

It’s human nature to want to do something. So offer an ear to listen. Offer a prayer, a hug, the comfort of your presence. Offer a laugh when it’s appropriate and a shoulder for crying when it’s not. We mean well when we say that God will make something good out of this mess. And maybe he will, but maybe isn’t right now. Right now it hurts. Right now we want to cry. Right now it’s not okay. And that’s okay.

If you would like to donate to disaster relief efforts in Oklahoma, you can text REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation to the American Red Cross. You can also donate online or call 1-800-RED CROSS to donate by phone. If you know of any further or more specific relief efforts, please leave the information in the comments.

Ian is the Youth and Family Minister at the Lakehoma Church of Christ in Mustang, Oklahoma. You can follow him on Twitter @KindaScottish.

Follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology. 

I Love Sister Wives

by Ian McLoud

My name is Ian McLoud. I am a 25 year old, single youth and family minister and I love TLC’s Sister Wives.

Feels good to that off my chest. And no, I will not defend my love for such a show. I’m fascinated by Mormons, especially the fundamentalist sects, and that is the only reason I watch. At least that’s what I tell myself. Secretly, I think I just like betting on when and how often Robyn will cry in any given episode.

I was catching up on Season 3 the other day and came across a rare gem, an episode I hadn’t seen before! This week on Sister Wives Kody and his wives are upset over the lack of a good ole “faith and morals” based social outlet. So, they do what any good Mormon polygamist family does and go visit a Presbyterian church.

You read that right. Kody, with his wives in tow, waltzes into a Presbyterian church and begins to ask poor Pastor Ray if his army of children can attend youth group activities because they need a good social outlet. Before Pastor Ray can really say anything wife #3, Christine, pipes up and says she can’t allow this.

I feel I must point out that Pastor Ray, to his credit, was willing to let the Brown Family Brigade join the youth group, but, in some moment of clarity, Christine realizes that they’re good FLDS Mormons and not Presbyterians. This would be wrong. It could lead their children down the wrong path. So they “table the discussion,” as Kody says.

What happens next is an argument between Kody and his wives. Wives 1 and 2, Meri and Janelle, are for the youth group because it’s just social. Wives 3 and 4, Christine and Robyn, are against. Kody, surprising no one, sides with Christine and Robyn.

Even though it was his idea, Kody now sees the error of his ways because this could really lead his children to a different faith. Church is never just a social outlet, no matter what wives 1 and 2 may think. Kody decides this type of thinking is simply wrong and puts his foot down, ending the discussion.

So what does this have to do with us?

Reread that incredibly profound statement that Kody makes about church being more than just a social outlet. Maybe it’s just because I’m a youth minister, but I often get the sense that some only see church as a place to socialize and make friends. I know for some of my students that is definitely the case. That’s probably why Kody’s words that church is more than a social outlet made such an impact.

Church is community. Church is where we come into contact with God by worshiping and fellowshiping with fellow believers. Community does powerful things. Community lets you know you’re safe, you’re not alone and you’re welcome. People worshiping as a community of God is a beautiful thing.

The Browns are right to be afraid that sending their kids to church is dangerous because community, when done right, is life changing. Let’s try and find that kind of community, where God is at the head and the main focus. I promise the social aspect will fall into place.

You can follow Ian on Twitter @KindaScottish.

God and the (Zombie) Apocalypse

Another guest post, this time from my former college roommate Ian McLoud on The Walking Dead.  There are a few season two spoilers in this post, so be warned if you plan on catching up and care about that sort of thing.

Peace,

Ben

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by Ian McLoud

It’s a common Christian stereotype that we love to bemoan the failure of Hollywood to truly understand “the Christian life”.  We're typically represented as either self-righteous hypocrites or crazy, Bible-thumping rednecks (or a cringe-worthy combination of the two).  As Christians, we would love to say that we're not like that; that these portrayals are caricatures and do not exemplify what real Christians are like. Some of us would like to look back with fondness on the late 90’s and early 2000's and find the glory days of Christian television shows like 7^th Heaven, Touched by an Angel, and Promised Land.  Of course we’d also like to forget that these cookie-cutter love fests are simply positive caricatures and seldom seem like anything that we might experience in real life.  And these are just exceptions to the rule; television at large ignores God unless a major catastrophe happens and then, once all is well, it's back to fundamentalist hyperbole if not outright disappearance.

So it comes as a quite refreshing surprise when a TV show does get something right regarding the Christian experience, even if it's just one aspect and even if that one aspect is not particularly flattering. Beware spoilers.

I just started watching season 2 of The Walking Dead.  After the first six episodes, I’ve been struck by the addition of a few characters belief in God.  However, this belief has only manifested itself in situations where something has gone wrong.  Now by “go wrong” I mean a daughter has gone missing or a son has been shot and may possibly die.  Somehow, the whole dead walking thing and the potential end of the human race don't warrant a talk with the Big Guy, but that’s neither here nor there.  

In watching this character development I was struck by how accurate a picture this has actually captured of the Christian life. For the most part we only go to God when things are tough and when those things impact us in a way that is different from the norm.  At this point in the show the dead walking is a point of fact, but still children should not be lost nor should they be dying and in the face of these tragedies God needs to come in and help.  These characters are surrounded on all sides by situations that would send most anyone to their knees, yet it's only when the attacks get personal and extra messy that they realize prayer might be beneficial.  Say what you want about the television industry, but they get a few things right every now and then. We'd just prefer they stick to a wholesome Camden family dinner instead of shining a light on our faults and asking us to try fixing them.