On the Rocks

“I like my Christianity on the rocks,” said the family matriarch. “Like my bourbon, I want it chilled and slightly watered down.”

It got the desired laughs from those gathered at the dining room table. They were like-minded family members. On her right was the son who complained that the prayers in church sounded like they came from CNN or some radical liberal group. On the left was the daughter who complained the sermons were too focused on current events, and her husband at the far end hadn’t been back to church since the minister said every family should tithe.

As easy as it would be to throw stones at such a gathering, I’m keenly aware how I, too, pick and choose the religion I claim to follow. I believe we’re to serve the poor, but I do little more than nod my head when I hear such things. I give every year to the church and other organizations, but I’m not sure I give 10% of my income. I’ve heard I’m supposed to love my enemies, and yet I can hardly talk to people who interpret the Gospel differently than I. Like the matriarch, I’m just as guilty of liking my gospel watered down.

The problem is, it’s not “my gospel.” It’s not some new wardrobe accessory that comes in different sizes where I find the one that suits me best. It belongs to God and every attempt to mold it to my desires or the whims of society is to pour it over ice to make it taste better.

I need to learn to drink mine straight up.

Espresso Shots:

1.     In what ways do you selectively follow the gospel?

2.     What parts of your faith are hardest to follow, and what parts are the easiest?

3.     What would the implications of your taking the gospel straight up? 

Polite Society

They were usually the first to put up a political sign. This year was different. Although their political views had not changed, their willingness to publicize them had. Fortunately, I was able to learn an important lesson from our neighbors: What we don’t admit says as much as what we do.

Early on, I was taught there are three things not to talk about in polite society: politics, religion and money. They are sensitive topics and can often lead to disagreements, arguments, and hurt feelings, but each is an integral part of our lives. They reveal much about who we are, what we believe, and how we live out those two things in our day to day lives. 

While I’m all for polite society, I wonder if not talking about such things is just a way to keep from admitting things of which we are not proud. Maybe we don’t make much money, or maybe we make a ton. Not talking about money can allow us the freedom to hide our embarrassment or greed. Maybe we prefer not to talk about religion because we’re embarrassed how little we worship or how inconsistent our lives are with the faith we profess. And maybe by not talking about politics we can avoid admitting views that may or may not reflect well on us.

Jesus spoke about keeping secrets. Whether we’re proud or ashamed of our secrets, God knows them all. It doesn’t change a thing if we cling to our bank statements, duck in the back pew, or pull the voting booth curtain tight. It doesn’t change what God already knows. 

Better to look at why I’m trying to hide those things. It’s certainly not because of polite society.

A Spiritual Nomad

“How can we sing the songs of the LORD while in a foreign land?

Psalm 137:4

Elmer Picket was a creature of habit. He awakened every morning at 6, did his chores between his first cup of coffee and breakfast. He wore the same boots he’d worn for years and always hung his coat on hook to the right of the kitchen door. Routine gave him a sense of comfort, which is why he was so disturbed when he came in one morning and realized his coat hook was gone. 

“What am I supposed to do with my coat,” he asked his wife who explained she was redecorating the entrance way. 

“You’ll just have to hang your coat on another hook,” she replied.

What do you do when something you’ve relied on, been comforted by, and expected, is taken away? That’s the question so many of us have been asking as we’ve tried to adapt to life during the pandemic. Some of the changes have been small, others significant, but all of them have left us off-center and out of sorts. The hook has been moved and we don’t know what to do with our coat.

For me, the biggest adjustment has been finding a spiritual home. I love and rely on church to ground me and connect me with God and others. Going to church on Sunday - hearing the organ, singing the hymns, hearing the lessons and sermon, and seeing others - feeds my soul. It’s a routine I enjoy, but it’s been taken away and I’ve struggled without it more than I thought I would. Our church, like many others, has worked hard to offer alternatives, but virtual church just doesn’t do it for me. 

Clinging to my coat, I’ve searched for another hook. I’ve taken walks, listened to music, subscribed to inspirational podcasts, sat in solitude with candles, but none of them have taken the place of going to church. 

I know, the church is not a building. There are many hooks for my spiritual coat, but I miss my damn church!