Mere Christianity

So my friend, Christina, came over this evening to hang out for a bit. We watched "The Brothers Grimm," talked about our weeks, and just had a good time. It's been wonderful having someone nearby to talk to; we've both definitely been each other's solace these past several weeks. Christina is looking into taking some classes at a nearby seminary and, naturally, much of our discussion this evening centered on Christianity, the Church, and doctrine.

Since Christina's Episcopalian, one of the subjects we eventually drifted into was her disappointment with the division in the Episcopal church and doctrinal differences there. Obviously, one of the hot button issues in the church right now is homosexual rights and whether or not homosexuals can serve as ministers. Christina's stance was that she was less upset that the minister was openly gay than she was about the fact that he was practicing and, in doing so, cheating on his wife. Interesting line of thought, no? Sexual sin is sin whether it's hetero or homo. Her argument, based on the New Testament, is that if a person's house is not in order, he (or, in my opinion, she) should not be leading the church.

This concept, in turn, led to us discussing the nature of pastors and of the church in general, specifically the flaws within both. I remember that, once upon a time, I used to take every word that dropped out of a pastor's mouth as law. I would sit in the front row, frantically scribble down notes, and vow to memorize every sub-point of every sermon. I was so certain that, no matter how irrelevant a given sermon might seem, that I was capable of gleaning some shining truth out of it that would change my life and make me a better person and Christian.

Then, through a series of events that I will not relate here, I experienced that singular, painful, experience that initiates us all into adulthood: disillusionment. Through an emotionally traumatizing situation, I was forced to recognize the fact - the previously impossible and seemingly blasphemous idea - that pastors are imperfect. This, in turn, soon lead to the realization that church people - like all people - are also imperfect and -indeed- the church itself is far from flawless. This seemingly simple piece of information shattered my tiny, idealistic, world. It opened up a purgatory of grey space a reality in which I could no longer fully trust the words that dropped from a pastor's mouth, believe that my fellow Christians always had my best interests at heart, and that - perhaps - the Bible and Christianity itself as I had learned to perceive them could no longer be left unexamined.

Bottom line: church people are no different than un-churched people. They share the same hopes, dreams, and ambitions. They also share the same flesh, the same weaknesses. A pastor will sin just as readily and easily as a drug addict. A priest can be a pedophile just as easily as a convict. The only difference between Christians and non-Christians is that Christians - when truly seeking God and acting out the tenets of their faith - will understand and admit their failings, seeking redemption for their failure and incapability to be righteous (thus the whole "it is by grace you have been saved, through faith; not by works, so that no one may boast").

This realization, when actualized, is both freeing and terrifying. It means that the concrete answers I once thought I had are not so concrete anymore. It means people who I thought would never betray me, simply because they were Christians, can and will one day. It means that pastors will say things that are wrong, Christians will do things that are wrong, and I too will do things that are equally unacceptable. Because we are imperfect.

It also means that I can allow people - both Christians and non-Christians - to be just that: people. This knowledge enables me to, since I am aware of my own failings, leave room for the faults and flaws of others. It enables me to love the homosexuals and heterosexuals, just as they are. It keeps me from judging them, from hypocritically using the Word as a weapon in a quest to smite them into submission, from coercing them into conforming with my limited vision of the gospel and of God. It means I no longer can assume that I have all the answers and it prevents me from trying to change people who don't fit my concept of how people should be. It forces me to recognize my own bitter mistakes, to swallow my pride and acknowledge my own utter idiocy, and utter the two most difficult words in the English language: "I'm sorry."

Most importantly, it compels me to love people - just as they are - because there are people who have and there is a God who has - in spite of my imperfections, my neuroticisms, and my endless selfishness - chosen to love me. It allows me to accomplish the most difficult feat in all the world: to forgive and be forgiven. All because I am not perfect. We are not perfect. The world is not perfect.

But God is.

This is the truth we, first as individuals, then as fellow strugglers, must build our lives upon. We cannot focus on legalism or religiosity. Ritual, regulation, and rigidity have no place here. Wearing the right clothes, saying the right things, and attending church every Sunday like good little saints is not the answer. Prancing around and wailing in self-righteous self-denial and martyrdom is hardly what the solution is. Nor is condemning others for their mistakes, touting our own "holiness" (as if it was ours to begin with), or isolating ourselves in a "holy huddle" from the world is not the answer. Trying to be good enough won't do it. Abandoning hope all together because we feel we can never earn enough redemption - and, indeed, we cannot - won't fix it. Pretending that we have no doubts, fears, or anxieties won't solve the problem. Simultaneously, refusing to hope and deciding to never trust again is equally insufficient.

Being good is not the answer. Sacrifice is not the answer. Indulgence is not the answer. People are not the answer. Pastors are not the answer. The Church is not the answer. And, yes, even the Bible - by itself - is not the answer.

Jesus is the answer.

The call, the question, and the solution. The perfection, the trust, and the revolution. The scandalous, the sacred, and our restitution. Our life, our love, and our absolution.

Jesus.