The Church is Unfaithful Because I Am Unfaithful

by Jacob Campbell

The people of God have a long history of unfaithfulness. In the Prophets, Israel is painted multiple times as an unfaithful wife in relation to the jealous husband God. Graphic sexual imagery exists throughout the Hebrew Bible, once even involving a comparison to horse genitalia, in depicting the disloyalty of Israel’s adultery. Yeah, that’s our Bible, people. That imagery is intended to describe just how far Israel had strayed.

What happened? What caused Israel to stray so far? They began to rely on others in place of God, to woo the powers and nations around them to provide their safety and their comfort. And at the same time, they became obsessed with piety and judgment, to the neglect of true worship and concern for the oppressed. Yet God remained faithful despite the actions of his spouse.

Now, the church, the bride of Christ, has been equally unfaithful, arguably more unfaithful. And here I am a part of it; as someone once said, the church is a whore, but she’s my mother. If the Church is the bride of Christ, I am one of her children. I’ve been raised and nurtured by a church that uses piety to distance itself from the ones God desires to draw near. And I can say that the church has not lived up to its commitment to Christ. 

But why? What caused this betrayal of the teachings of Jesus? Why did we trade the Sermon on the Mount for the Law of Judgment? On a much more intimate note, why are we okay with it?

It’s painfully simple, really. Because the church is filled with people like me: broken, sinful, guilt ridden and full of doubt. The church is unfaithful to Christ’s mission because I have been unfaithful. I am one of the legion that sin and that causes the church to sin. And by and large, instead of wrestling with these issues of sin and doubt, we hide behind piety. Sure we are sinful, but we convince ourselves that an outward show of standing up against what God condemns makes up for whatever sin is in my own life. This breeds the specter of hypocrisy that turns so many post-moderns off to church and fuels their cynicism.

Rachel Held Evans expressed this sentiment so well in a recent post on CNN.com, saying, “we (millennials) want to be known for what we stand for, not what we are against.” Essentially, pounding your fist and railing about what you are against will always successfully reveal you to be a hypocrite. Because everyone sins. Let’s not allow our own insecurities drive our unfaithfulness. Easier said than done, right? Maybe, maybe not.

Grace is the key here. God stands for grace, first and foremost. It’s the constant theme, from Genesis to Revelation. And though I am complicit in being an unfaithful child of God, despite that, God still loves me. How can I not extend that same love to others? 

Loving others is not simply preaching repentance as the portal to the Kingdom. Just telling someone about Jesus is not a full expression of love. Love is a relationship built up over time, enduring hurt and pain, but joy as well. It is loving another despite any choice they choose to make. And if they choose not to follow after God, still we must love them. 

The balm that will heal the church is not a firmer stance against the world; it is, instead, making radical changes in how we approach the ‘other’. Because this is the kicker: to God, we all were once ‘the other’. My sin is great, my heart is heavy. I am the Other. But the hope I have is that it is no longer I who bear the burden. The grace God grants removes the burden, allows me to live forgiven and to try and make this world a better place for all others.

It is not easy. I still have insecurities and I still sin. I pound my fist and yell and scream and get angry. I weep and fume and cuss and rage. But these days, it’s almost always at God. My faith is a constant wrestling match with God and God is there to take it. I try to not let my insecurities and doubts about God fuel any sort of condemnation of others. Sometimes I fail, but thankfully, those I condemn are, like God, forgiving as well. At least I hope so, because a community cannot thrive on exclusion and condemnation. God stands for the other. So must I, because I am the other too.

This is where the Church stands, at the threshold of radical change. The Church can either choose to create communities where all ‘others’ feel welcome and loved, or we can dig in and uphold traditions that really have no relation to what God stands for. Like the woman brought before Jesus after having been caught in adultery, the Church stands broken and kneeling before Christ. Will we heed his response? Will we go and sin no more? That is what I work towards, a community where no one brings any more stones and where the love and grace of Jesus lifts us up to hope. 

Jacob is a father, husband, and teacher from Chattanooga, TN. He runs, does yard work, plays video games, and tries to be a good person with marginal success in all of it. You can follow him on Twitter @Jake43083.

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology. If you'd like to support what we do, you can donate via the button on the right of the screen.

Image Credits: 
Image #1 via Wikimedia
Image #2 via Starscream
Image #3 via Chris Smith
  

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When God Was a Beatle (or, What the Church Can Learn From Bonnaroo)

by Jacob Campbell

It’s a Friday night and ninety thousand people are lifting their hands and singing in unison with a god. In front of me is a young man, smoking pot as he sings; beside him, his girlfriend ingests a certain substance to enhance her experience. To my left, there is a gentleman forgoing underpants, and to my right, a man in his 60’s seems to be reliving a profound moment from his youth. Behind me, there are teenage girls with their inhibitions eclipsed by this surreal experience. And here I am, a Bible teacher from the south watching Paul McCartney leading this eclectic crowd through “Hey Jude.” 

Since that night, I have been ruminating on the significance of the event. This man, and to a larger extent, the Bonnaroo Festival itself, accomplishes something very few faith communities do: creating communal experience and a judgment-free community.

Make no mistake, musically speaking, Paul McCartney is a god. There is arguably no other singer/songwriter that has been more influential in the 20th century. In the 1960’s, people went insane over the Beatles and I’m here to tell you, in the 2010’s, nothing has changed. McCartney commanded the crowd like no other performer I’ve seen at the festival in my five years, save maybe Springsteen. Maybe. Sir Paul edges the Boss by sheer pedigree in my humble opinion. 

But from the opening chords, this crowd sang almost every word with McCartney. Instead of singing to him, with him stepping away from the mic so the crowd can be heard, they sang classics, word for word, with McCartney. What if Christians viewed worship not as something done to God, but something done in communion with God? What if we began to consider God’s role in communal worship as an active participant, rather than a passive recipient? To me, that presents an entirely new angle from which to view worship. 

It’s like playing a team sport: you try your hardest for your teammate so that both of you find fulfillment together. It was obvious that McCartney enjoyed singing along with the crowd. Do we think it is that different for God? Do we really think God likes being the stoic recipient of another laborious version of “How Great is our God”? Or is it more likely that God was right there dancing with David behind the Ark? David did that naked, I might add; he’d have been right at home at Bonnaroo, just give him a glow stick. I believe God wishes to be energetic about faith with us.  


The more fundamental aspect is this: this Bonnaroo community is bound by a common love from the start, a mutual adoration for McCartney and his music. They are all already on the same team. His music brings everyone together, and I mean everyone; I don’t even really like the Beatles and I was caught up. Imagine if the church began to view everyone - not just members, but all people - as on the same team. Are not the words of Paul echoing here, “For all have sinned …and all are justified…”

Sadly, the church seems to be accomplishing the opposite. Division reigns between denominations, social and political issues divide generations within churches, and more and more people, outsiders and insiders alike, are put off by what they see when they look at much of Christianity. Intolerance and judgment are the idols of contemporary American evangelicalism. But in the crowd at Bonnaroo, conservative Christians were singing arm-in-arm with same-sex individuals. For a few brief hours, something greater was able to transcend cultural differences and create true community. 

A friend and I were talking after the festival about how it generally takes a few weeks to get our “judgment filter” back, the part of our brains that says people who do drugs are inherently bad, or else some other prejudice we view the world by, likely revolving around homosexuality. We both concluded that it was probably in our best interest to leave the judgment filter off year-round. 

You can’t blame lost people for acting lost. Jesus validated people for their inherent humanity-they were a part of God’s creation, worth redeeming and welcoming into God’s community. God, through Jesus, was not about putting up walls. He was about inviting people into a journey alongside him. God’s story, filled with his love for his creation, is the binding force for all humanity. Bonnaroo has taught me something that the church never did: God loves all people, not just the ones that are “in the church.” In those four days of music each year, barriers are torn down and people of all different walks of life come together and treat each other with kindness.

I do believe that the culture in churches is changing. It’s slow, frustrating, and messy. I know too many people who are turned off by church. Sadly they equate faith and religion, mainly because churches themselves have equated the two. Too often their view of church has been one of dogmatic rule-following rather than a loving, open faith community. 

We are made to worship; whether it’s in a church or at a festival, we get caught up in adoring things and people. God is calling us to worship and commune with him. He is creating a kingdom that is a place of love and kindness and no judgment. I think the community he is fashioning is going to look a lot more like Bonnaroo than most American churches. Because when we acknowledge the things God wants as the things we want, we let go of our prejudices and we hold onto Love. And love is all you need.

Jacob is a father, husband, and teacher from Chattanooga, TN.  He runs, does yard work, plays video games, and tries to be a good person with marginal success in all of it. You can follow him on Twitter @Jake43083.

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

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When Winter Comes

by Jacob Campbell

I love Game of Thrones - the show, not the books, and yes, I know this makes me some sort of Westerosian heretic. I am presently on my third attempt to tackle the books, so please, a little grace. But the show...holy cow, it is good. I love Ned Stark, the ostensible hero of the first season. He is noble, just, and loves his family, but what makes him so interesting is that those are the very things that trap him as well. His virtue keeps him caged, in a world where everyone else acts in complete freedom, regardless of law or tradition. And I also love the ancient motto of his house, a reminder to prepare for hard times are ahead: “Winter is coming...”. 

The show teaches me, again and again, that notions of good and evil really are limited, that they break down in a complex world. It teaches that winter really is coming. Winter itself is neither good nor evil, it’s merely the reality of naturally complex world and a perfect metaphor for the struggles of life. And, it also proves to me that I probably shouldn’t watch a show with this much sex.  

But yeah, in Game of Thrones, there really aren’t many truly good guys or, for that matter, truly bad guys. Life is more complex than that. A character may commit a petty atrocity in one scene and in another, we see him acting nobly and heroically. And what’s more, both seem entirely consistent with his nature. Like King David, who a professor of mine refers to as a petty tyrant, some characters do cruel things and yet remain the shows ‘good guys’.  

Consider Tyrion Lannister: he’s a scheming, whoring, drunken, acerbic dwarf who, at the same time, is brilliant, nurturing, and even shows himself to be the hero on more than a few occasions. Can he be categorized as simply good or simply bad?

And here is the one I’ve been wrestling with: can God? 

The events two months ago in Boston left many shaken. And while the national attention was focused on the bombings and ensuing manhunt, other more personal tragedies unfolded in my life. A member of my church was broken as his wife left him, and took their children with her. A friend’s twins, born prematurely, were unable to survive; they died in the NICU. With the world so often in turmoil, so viciously dishing out pain and horror, it always seems like winter. 

And inevitably the “why, God?” questions emerge. They don’t just emerge; they pile up. How could a God who is good continue to allow such pain at every turn? How could he not stop it?  But I’m not convinced anymore of the premise of behind such questions. I don’t think it’s a simple world we live in; it’s far more complex. As Game of Thrones shows us, in a complex world, our simplistic notions of good and bad no longer work.  

We cannot confine God to our categories, even the ones we name “good” and “bad”. It’s easy to think of God as good in the long, green summer; it’s easy to call God good as long as nothing too terrible happens. But when winter comes, it’s much harder to grapple with a good God. The lines start to blur. 

This isn't just a philosophical exercise for me; there have been far too many winters in my life already. My father was an alcoholic. He abused my brother and mother both physically and verbally. That same brother was later killed in a gas station robbery, leaving my father deeply depressed. That began a long slow decline of more alcoholism and eventually, death by cancer. My wife and I have struggled with joblessness and financial difficulties. Sometimes it feels as if God has turned against me. 

Now, I don’t mean to claim I have the hedge on suffering, but I can truly say I have experienced my fair share. And what I have discovered is that chasing the “If God is good...” rabbit into a bottomless hole accomplishes nothing.      

There is a great line in the movie God on Trial, which has Jewish prisoners in Auschwitz prosecute God for allowing the Holocaust, where one of the rabbis gives an impassioned speech that includes the line, “God is not good; he was never good. He was simply on our side.” 

What do we do with God when it seems like he’s turned on us? Is this not the cry of Job, “Yet God has found fault with me, he considers me his enemy.”  What do we make of God when it seems like winter has come, and that winter never ends?

We need to understand that God is above what we understand as good or bad. How does a good God let bad things happen? Because he is God. He is neither good nor bad. Sure, Scripture proclaims God as good in places. And certainly, the goodness of God was manifested in Jesus. 

But something as wild and uncontainable as God cannot be serviced by simplistic terms like ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Heck, ‘magnificent’ and ‘malevolent’ don’t do him justice. When winter comes, it’s all our finite brains can do to attempt to understand God in the present by trying to frame him in good or bad terms. 

Job pleaded to know the mind of God and was answered with more mystery. In the presence of God, Job was humbled as a mere human. And in the end, that is all we are. As we wrestle with an infinite reality, we need to remember how finite we actually are.    

It can be difficult to see God in the hard times. But hard times always come, and when they do, we must let go of our limited categories, give up confining God to the boxes of ‘good’ and ‘bad’. God transcends such things. We don’t need hollow phrases like, “It’s just his will,” or “God has a plan”. Sometimes it is best, even in the midst of a winter of suffering, to just be still, and know that God is God.

Jacob Campbell is a husband, father and teacher living in Chattanooga, Tennessee. According to Facebook he's a fan of the movie Road Warrior. Do with that information what you will. You can follow him on Twitter @Jake43083.

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

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