The Contradictions of Christian Condemnation & Some Thoughts About Love

Christians have a lousy rep these days for being overly judgmental. This is bad for a lot of reasons.  The first reason is, of course, that judgment hurts. It hurts the minds and hearts of those burdened under the weight of the sneers and grumbles, and it also hurts the person judging, as they themselves fall into the darkness surrounding ignorance, and get stuck in that sightless space, blindly doing far more harm than good to the life inside of them and around them.

The second reason this is bad for our faith as Christians is that in feeling puffed up enough to say something negative about the way another person is living, is in direct contradiction to the very foundation of belief which causes some to unjustly feel they have a right to judge.  In short,  it’s the complete opposite of everything Jesus taught and stood for, while he was alive and with us (Ref: Matt7:1-3 , John 8:7, Luke 6:37, and on and on it goes. Basically, just open The Book and you’ll find this truth, there).

As Christians, if we are faithful to our belief, we’re called to do something different. We’re supposed to be the people in the world who accept anyone and everyone, regardless of the countless ways they’re shunned by the rest. And, in fact, if we’re doing our jobs, if we’re living into our belief, the more someone is condemned and pushed away by larger society, the more deeply we should be led to embrace them, and help them find sanctuary inside our doors. When someone faces a sneer, we’re called to smile. When someone is pushed away, we’re called to take them in our arms and show them the real meaning of unconditional love.  That is the heart of the gospels, and the true passion of the life of Christ.

To use Christianity as a justification for judgment is to destroy whatever Christianity dwells inside of us.

But alright—let’s be honest. It’s unfortunately a natural thing to judge. It’s a human thing to judge. This is one of the reasons the teachings of Jesus were so startling to begin with. To hold back from judging someone is entirely awkward to our experience as people. It’s a pushing away of a very natural  urge (as dark as it may be) inside of us.

So it takes a lot of practice. If we’re being honest with ourselves, and hope to truly face that dark stuff inside of us, we have to first acknowledge that it’s there. We have to admit the fact that holding back from judgement against others—whether we’re Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, agnostic, atheist, etc— unfortunately takes a lot of work and attention,  if we hope to one day get it right. Judgement sneaks up on us, in some of the quietest places in our minds and souls.

As a pastor, I’ve been a part  of a lot of conversations with fellow Christians about some horrible thing that had happened to someone else at the hands of another who’d committed a brutal crime against them. Often, the response goes something like this:

“Well, it’s not my place to judge. God will do the judging, and I just hope God will give them the  punishment they deserve.”

Seems simple enough, right? But—youch. Even beneath that very simple statement, the darkness of judgment still bites at each word.

It sneaks up on you.

Mentioning the harsh punishment someone “deserves,” is basically just a deferred judgment, rather than the absence of judgment, itself.  And if we’re trying to reflect from inside of us what we hope to see shine down on our own experience of this life (Ref: Matt 7:12)—our own experience of  God —we can’t hope that God will “punish” those who’ve done wrong, unless we’re hoping God will “punish” us for each of the wrongs we’ve committed in our own lives, right?

And it becomes even sneakier, here.  In mentioning all of this, am I right now being judgmental toward judgmental people? Ugh! Really sends the mind for a loop, doesn’t it?

When we try to stand high enough to look out at the world and see what’s “right” and what’s “wrong,” we’re standing atop a very slippery slope. One which usually sends us tumbling down to fall flat on our asses.

So maybe we can find balance here: Maybe what we’re called to do, is not to try and climb up to a higher place than we belong, but to let ourselves settle into that down-to-earth place that is our home, with everybody else. Knowing that we’re all in this together. Knowing that we all do things which are sometimes okay, and sometimes not. Knowing that we’re all screwed up, just in different ways. Knowing that not one of us lives a perfect life, free from flaw (and what is a “perfect life,” anyway, aside from the Holy Living God?). Knowing that what’s “right” and what’s “wrong” is always, always, always, in the eye of the beholder, changing from mind to mind, experience to experience. Knowing that when we look into the eyes of another, we’re only looking into a different part of ourselves, all being one in God; and that when we condemn others, we’re only condemning ourselves. … And in knowing all of this, letting ourselves love each other—love ourselves—no matter which different imperfect part of us we look into as we walk around.

Living into the heart of Christianity is to live with a heart of acceptance, love, compassion, and care for all parts of the one Life of God, which lives and breathes and moves through each one of us as tiny fragments of the Holy Whole.

So to make a long blog longer with a short, simple thought:  Unconditional love is the way of Christ. Hate over particulars is something else.  If we are Christians, we will love all people, at all times, in all circumstances, and in all places, just as we know we are loved by God.

And as complicated as some of the questions in our minds might sometimes seem, if love is our response, I think we’ve found the answer.






Yes, God Still Speaks: A New Testament–aka ‘Some Stuff That Happened’

God still speaks. All of the time. To each of us, in amazingly unexpected and beautiful ways.

Last week, we asked the question, “Does God still speak?” and thought about the ways we still experience God in ways just as miraculous as those mentioned in “The Book” (aka The Bible), only we don’t document these moments anymore in scripture, as the biblical canon was unfortunately and untimely closed off to new stories, a long time ago, in an ancient galaxy far, far away.  ;)

God lives and moves in our own personal lives each day, and we talked about the benefits that come with the spiritual practice of writing this stuff down. If no one else will put it into a sacred text, where these moments belong, it’s up to us to record and document when these things happen in our own lives, so we can remember, and maybe flip back to those times in moments of questioning or struggle, and recall in comfort that God lives with us every hour, and is more deeply involved in our experiences than we can ever imagine.

So I thought I’d do this myself, here, just to give you guys an example. I hope you gain some benefit from reading this, and can apply it to your own moments of spiritual connection.

I’d mentioned in our last blog that God had worked and moved a whole lot in my life over the past month and a half, but didn’t mention how.  Here’s what happened (some of it, anyway).  Bare bones. And we can look into these things more, after I type those moments into this box.

Some brief back story: I’d been experiencing some frustration, recently, over where my life was going. Nothing new. Happens to us all at different times. I was called into the ministry when I was very young and have lived into that call since; but I was plagued by doubts, not too long ago, as to whether or not this was still the right path. I knew I’d been called, and answered that call the best I could; but I just wasn’t sure if where I was heading was still where God wanted me to go.

Overwhelmed with the question, I got down on my knees, in my study. Face-planted to the floor, arms spread long in front of my prostrated body.  Laying it all out on the line. And I talked to God. Deeply. Personally. Sometimes I didn’t even think a word, knowing God knew what was in my mind, already.  But through all, the conversation I had with God started with me asking God (Life) to show me where to go from here.  I asked God to talk to me, and to talk LOUD, so I could hear past all of the clutter in my mind.

Blinking away the darkness of my eyelids, I finally stood from that rug, my early-thirties bones cracking from bending so low. The blood hadn’t even flushed from my face back down to my legs, before my phone rang on the desk. My mind still in that limbo state between prayer and the day-to-day, I staggered over to answer the call.

It was one of my parishioners. One I hadn’t heard from in long, long time. One I’d thought I’d lost from the congregation awhile ago.  One whose recent absence on Sunday mornings had contributed to my sense that maybe I needed to journey on a different way. In that moment, just after I’d asked God to talk loud, his/her voice rang through my ear, telling me how excited he/she was about the ministry I was doing at the church, and about how confident he/she was that beautiful things would come from my working as a minister in the parish. In that conversation, all of the insecurities and doubts which had so heavily plagued my mind—each of the things I’d mentioned to God, only minutes before—were addressed. Spoken to. Eased. In audible words I could hear, and not confuse.

This was the first moment God spoke to me, in response to what I’d just said while my face buried in the floor.  And it was loud, alright. Instantaneous, even. Beautiful, and breathtaking.  I thought this was the end of the conversation, but I was wrong.

Only three days later:

I received another call.  Very similar. Another congregant who I’d never before spoken with on the phone, called me in the middle of the day. Once again reaffirming and repeating what had been said in the last conversation. Once again—as if they’d been eavesdropping on my silent prayer—addressing each of my fears and doubts, like a subtle reminder from God, in case the effect of the first moment had worn off and faded away.

Seven days later, that following Sunday:

Our general church attendance had been another factor causing me worry about the effectiveness of staying this course in God’s ministry.  Dropping numbers, across the board—in every church—had caused me to wonder if there was a different way I could be in ministry. A different way to answer God’s call that might be more effective.

The Sunday after I got down on my knees, our sanctuary *flooded* with people. Now, this is unusual, folks. Our “Little Green Church on the Hill” is a small one—our congregation intimate.  But we had more inside our church walls that day than we had bulletins to hand out. Overwhelmed by the sight of all of these faces,  I stood up to lead the congregation in prayer; and when I looked down at the pulpit, “randomly” splayed beside the prayer I’d written, were the words,  “Don’t worry, He understands all of your frustrations.” I saw those words laid out right there, for me to see, at the pulpit where I’ve worked all of this time, and tears filled my eyes before I snapped myself back into focus to lead the group in prayer.

At this point, I could barely believe God was still talking to me—and at such mind-blowing volume. I’d thought Life had made Its point pretty clearly, but this still wasn’t the end. God was still speaking to me, even louder than I’d asked.

And I can’t for sure say why, but I think God understood better than I could myself, that even through all of this, my confusion was still with me. Because we’re stubborn people, right?

Even after all of this, about half a week later (I suppose, again, about three days—interesting),  I laid it all out on the table in front of me in the family room, and I stood up, prepared to tell my husband I’d made a final decision. After this appointment, I was going to move on from parish work, into something else. It hurts to even type the words, now… but those were the words that filled me up in that moment, in front of the coffee table; and I’ll admit them.  Ky walked into the kitchen, and I followed him. I breathed deep, and started the sentence. “I’ve made my decision,” I said to him, my voice almost pompous–belligerent—with my confidence in the choice.  “I’m moving on from—-”

Before I could speak another word, the entire room fell pitch black. I kid you not. Every light in the house went away. Every sound disappeared. In that millisecond of shock, I waited for the lights to flicker back on so I could finish the thought. Nothing. Pitch black. I couldn’t even see Ky’s face in front of mine, less than a foot away.  This was a moment of biblical proportions, in my book. I could barely believe it… but just because I couldn’t believe it, didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth, all the same.  In that moment, God stopped me. God interrupted our conversation, like someone jumping in to save a close friend from accidentally playing the fool.

The lights didn’t come back on. Not for the rest of the night. We had no candles in the house (all of ours being burned down to the wick), and the only place we could find light was from inside of the church. There was a big box of candles in the fellowship hall, so with our flashlights, we walked through the dark into the church walls to find the light we needed, then returned home, to the parsonage. All night, our sight and footsteps illuminated only with the light used for Holy Service.

And friends, there was more. So much more. God kept talking with me, still in higher volume than I’d ever asked, through the rest of that month. Each time, the words coming louder, and louder, and louder again.  I haven’t even yet come to the best parts; but this blog box is filling up fast.

I could write a book on what happened. Maybe one that, back in the day, would’ve made it into the canon. But I wanted to share at least those few moments with you, so you can gather a feel for what I’m saying when I mention that God still speaks.

We just don’t write this stuff down anymore, and we unfortunately can’t add them to our scriptures.

These were moments of miracle. Of course, we perceive and communicate things differently, now. If I’d been a biblical author of antiquity, when I first received that phone call after standing up from that prayer,  I might have written:

I fell to my knees, beseeching the Lord, and behold, God’s voice rang from the heavens, saying, “I am the LORD your God. The father of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. I have heard your prayers and will answer them with mighty deeds. You have been charged to proclaim the name of the Lord from this day forth, and I command that you live each of the days I have given you, speaking of the truth and love which I have shown you.” (Miracles 1:1-4)

But ya see, we just don’t talk like that anymore. Instead, I say, “I  got down on my knees and talked to God. Then my iPhone rang on my desk, and I heard exactly the words I’d told God I needed to hear, in order to keep going.”

God works in the world today, still, in biblical proportions. Miracle after miracle, God lives and breathes in our lives in moments that stun us to silence and move our hearts in unimaginable ways.

God still speaks. The question is, do we still listen?

















The Ten Commandments of Christian Confession (#10)

There was a bad accident on the road, just ahead. Ambulances and police on the scene, all cars shuffled one-by-one to a single lane to avoid the work and wreckage. As goes the usual etiquette, each of us allowed a single car into the right as traffic inched forward.  On this particular morning, my husband and I sat as passengers, a close friend behind the wheel.  Both of us jerked so hard our seat belts constricted as his palm slammed into the horn and every profanity listed in the Urban Dictionary tumbled from his swelling throat.

“HEY! ONE AT A TIME! What the H**’s WRONG WITH YOU??” He barked at the driver of the second car as she cut her way, out of turn, into the space he opened for the other.  “HA!” His expression fell flat. “Of course.…” Disgusted, our friend flung his hand toward the sticker stuck to the woman’s bumper.

Warning:In case of Rapture, this car will be unmanned!

“We’d be better off!” He shouted, then looked only slightly apologetically in my direction. “See, Laura? This is why I don’t go to church.  Full of hypocritical #%^&*’s,” my friend grumbled. “…No offense.”

None taken, but lesson learned.

As Christians, we identify ourselves and work to share our faith in a lot of strange ways—some a little less effective than others. Passion is essential to letting our beliefs live and breathe, but too often that passion is expressed in suffocating ways which only bring an outcome opposite from what we hope to achieve as we confess our convictions with others. So many times, what we consider evangelism actually acts to turn people off from the spiritual beliefs we hold so dear.

Over the coming weeks, this blog will cover the top ten things to avoid while sharing our soul (today’s listed, below):

The Ten Commandments of Christian Confession


Thou Shouldst Not Place Faith-based Bumper Stickers on Thy Car ;)

The highway is a bad place to evangelize. None of us are perfect drivers, and road rage runs rampant not only in others, but ourselves. Even if you’re a saint behind the wheel, never lifting a finger, refusing to surpass the speed limit, and religiously slowing on the yellow, there will always be reason for other drivers to become angry over what you’re doing (or not doing). Even going slow can be viewed as offensive to some; and anytime another driver becomes angry with you, or you become angry with them, your sticker (as well-intended as it may be) will work more often to substantiate people’s feelings of dejection toward the Christian faith and Christians as a whole.


Let your faith live; let it breathe; share yourself with care and consideration, always; and remember that evangelism is a conversation, not a one-way act of conversion.  As we let our love for God show, we should be sure to let our love for others be just as apparent by being both respectful and understanding of where we each stand as we talk and open our hearts to one another.



The Funny Thing About Fundamentalists… (The Christian&theAtheist)

Ronelle Adams said:

“If your fundamentalists are faith healers, snake handlers, child abusers, sexist, racist, and anti-gay bigots, then there’s something wrong with your fundamentals.”

Nice job, Ronelle. I can understand entirely where you’re coming from. That is a bit creepy, the way fundamentalists portray themselves so often as ragingly dangerous, closed-minded, single-sighted/sided figures in the world. And I really think we should change the name we give those who exist on the extremes of the far right of the Christian religion; because one thing Ronelle said was a little off. The funny thing about fundamentalists is they are about as far from teaching/living the fundamentals of Christ as you can possibly be, while still standing in the shelter of the umbrella term, “Christian.” Bigotry, sexism, racism, and child abuse–not even in the slightest sense or contortion—reflect the foundational teachings Jesus shared while alive in the world. Jesus, in fact, taught the exact opposite to those who walked with him all of those years ago, and stood strong with the same passion for social justice as Christianity’s harshest modern critics.

Throughout the gospels (just open a page to any of the four) and Jesus’ teachings are about lifting up inclusivity, embracing the outcast, prizing the importance and sanctity of the lives of children (begging us all to be so beautifully and simply situated in the world), and working endlessly–to death, in fact—for cross cultural/cross-ethnic/cross-gender social respect and equality. Jesus was the ultimate critic of religion, himself, and would have readily taken sides with Ronelle Adams in his statement, along with Bill Maher, George Carlin, Trent Reznor, and all of those other voices we hear so loudly criticize the habits and ways of religion. Again, just open any of the gospels, and Jesus yells just as fervently about these very same things.

So why is it that Christianity, the religion against religion, gets all of the flack?

How do we rightly live up to the fundamentals of Christ, while people wrongly labeled as “fundamentalists” run rampant through the world, spreading hate, greed, corruption, and exclusion throughout a population of people yearning to break away from the barriers of the past and breathe free?

To me, the world is searching—yearning—for what Christianity used to be, while running—fleeing—from what Christianity has become.

As individual Christians and as spiritual seekers together, what do we do about this? Something to examine and think about as we move along each day in the world.






The Importance of Gathering for God

Let’s face it, we live in an age of isolation.

These days, even when we’re surrounded by people, our heads bend into our palms as we so often prefer typing to distant others, over speaking to the faces in front of our own. Retail outlets are closing down, due to the  ease of buying and receiving at home, verses the strain of sitting in traffic and standing in line behind others in the middle of town.    We don’t even need to sit around a table anymore to play a game of cards or scrabble—the apps are right there in the left column of our facebook homepage! Self checkout lanes.  Online video rentals.  And if you get hungry, King Soopers delivers!

And, friends, we’re even communicating in isolation right now—myself, alone, typing and you, alone, reading.

These trends don’t stop with the ordinary, but mix just as thoroughly with our experience of the extraordinary—with our experience of God—as people lean more and more toward personal spirituality, and away from church membership.

Just recently, I wrote about the benefits of this personal spirituality, and the fact of God being everywhere, leaving anywhere as not only a suitable, but holy place of worship. And my heart still holds true to that fact; but, today, I’d like to touch into the reasons why being personally spiritual during the week, and together in spirit on Sunday, are equally as good for our lives, and our relationship with Life, as a whole. In fact, I do believe that these two things, together, are not only equally good, but equally necessary for the health of our spirit in relationship with the greater soul of God.

This Sunday, we all gathered together outside for our service. The wind blew our readings around, we sang sort of clumsily to songs of praise on a boombox, some were asked to come up and receive recognition for their work, embarrassed to be dragged into the spotlight.  There were definitely some awkward moments for us all as we fumbled around out there, and it didn’t go all that smoothly; but it went well, because we went to that place together. And that fact, alone, is what makes Sunday worship what it is. That’s what makes the time holy.

As a semi-reclusive, slightly dorky writer and reader, I definitely understand the inner-strain of being around people in large groups, and the relief felt when once again alone; but being a pastor and a friend to God, I also understand the overwhelming importance of all of us coming together in one place to stand side-by-side in a moment set apart. Even when those moments don’t flow as smoothly as we hoped. Even when we feel stiff and strange rising to shake hands during greeting time. Even when we feel we surely played a fool in each one of the conversations we shared over food and coffee, afterward.  And I can understand this, not just because it’s my job, but because of the very real and beautiful need that exists inside each one of us to connect with the greater Life around us, and give ourselves up to God, together, to celebrate the holiness which gives breath to our daily lives while we live every other moment off on our own.

It’s a time of commemoration, celebration, recognition. A time of lifting our voices loud with the voices of others to sing in joy for the life we’re blessed to live, and the for the Life that brought us here. I don’t mean to trivialize , but we come together for moments of worship for the same reasons we feel driven to invite people over for a birthday. We might love that person turning 9, or 17, or 49,  and we might be in extraordinarily deep relationship with that person every other day, on our own; but when it comes time to commemorate, recognize, and celebrate that life, we add into this personal relationship by gathering together with others to share in the joy of our experience of that person. And we do the same for God each Sunday.

Gathering sometimes awkwardly with the people around us for this reason not only lifts up our love for God in larger, clearer, longer recognition than we can normally give, but it also keeps us connected with the life around us, and sustains inside of us the knowledge that though we live in isolation in so many other ways, we are never alone—not in our personal lives, and not in that inkling we feel in our soul telling us there’s something more to this life, past our experience of the typical.  When we unite in body, we unite in mind, strengthening the personal urges we feel privately in our soul into something larger, something shared, something moving while alone, and powerful in plurality.

Anyway… I hope that makes some sense. I’m glad we got to talk about in here; but I think I’m going to lift my eyes up from this box, and head outside. There are people waiting for me, past my door.

God bless you, take care, and celebrate the life inside of you with the One who gave it, with all of your heart, all of your strength, all of your soul, and all of your mind, in all ways you can; because that holy Source Of All Things that gifts us with this vital breath we pull into our lungs and let out through our lips is something to commemorate. Something to recognize. Something to celebrate. Something worthy of the worship of our souls.





Finding God With Your Toothbrush

A lot of people think spiritual experience is stuck in religious experience.  Does this feel true to your soul?  In fact, religious experience and spiritual experience are two separate pieces of our life with God. They often come together in worship (hopefully, anyway… otherwise we’re lacking some passion in pulpit and pew), but we can gain a sense of God—of the greater Life surrounding us and within us—anywhere we go, in anything we do, because God is everywhere we go and in everything we can possibly see, or touch, or hear, or feel.

In short, when we perceive, we are experiencing God. The only question is, have we opened our minds—opened our souls–to realizing and feeling that truth through the minutes of our lives? No matter where we stand, no matter what we do, if we open ourselves to an experience of Life in this way, we are in the midst of a spiritual experience.

Religion exists only for the sake of helping us do just that. It’s there to lend a hand in opening our minds to this type of moment with God, when our busy schedules just clutter up our days too much with stuff that distracts us and pulls us away from this kind of realization.  The ritual of religion is a friendly tap on the shoulder as we run around with our minds in a whirl, reminding us to stop and take a second to breathe, and to look; but we are not dependent upon the rituals set up by others to expand ourselves in this way.

People are the creators of ritual. God is the creator of life. This being true, we can create ritual on our own, in our individual lives (and, in reality, I believe we’re called to do this as true and dedicated seekers), so that in our own time and places, when the altar isn’t packed with passionate pastors and parishioners preaching and praising, we can allow our hearts to open and be filled with the glory of God and the beauty of the life God’s created all around us.

And, if you’re wondering, this ritual we create in our lives is pretty easy to make.  Plain and simple, it’s an act of noticing.

We can notice God anywhere we stand, because God is there, in front of us and within us, always. You can notice God right there, in front of you, as you feel goosebumps spread over your skin at the sound of your favorite song, in the car. You can find God while you work in the yard, spreading mulch for your trees or bending down to prune your garden.  You can find God while you’re brushing your teeth, washing your face, shaving your legs, combing your hair! All it takes, is a ritual of opening your mind to notice.

So don’t be deceived. As important as it is to gather for worship together, as a community, our experience of God is never limited to a single place and time.

Wherever you go, whatever you do, be with God. Notice God. Because God is there, and all it takes is setting aside a moment to focus and see.




Tending the Fire

Our experience of God is one of relationship.  This spiritual connection defines our relationship with Life, and as a result, who and how we are with each little piece of it: the people we meet, the grass and dirt we walk over, the other creatures we make eye contact with as we pass by.

Considering this relationship we share with God, we see to it just as we do with each little piece (romantic relationships, friendships, environmental upkeep, care for those in need)—moment by moment, action by action, word by word.

In short, it takes maintenance. Without repeated contact and care, there is no relationship, only the memory of one. Our relationship with God (with Life) asks our constant connection and focus. It requires the care of our heart, and when we care deep down about something, it’s always in our thoughts. It’s the shadow of all of our movements.  It goes with us to all places, even when we’re away from closest contact.

This week after Pentecost, we’ll be discussing the ways we tend to our relationship with God (with Life), and how that tending is so much like the heat we continuously work to sustain/maintain in a fire.  The ways we can’t just walk away from what’s been built… or it will either die, or spread irresponsibly out of hand. The ways we must always maintain the shape of it, rotating the burning sides in and out, to keep the flame and heat in balance and in a continual burn. The ways we need to add new substance to the heat, so what started it all doesn’t eventually just smolder into cold ash.

We tend to our relationship with God by rendering loving reverence to the Life in all things—in all of those tiny bits that make up the Whole; and this weekend, we’ll explore some of the ways we do this together, as we keep the fire of Pentecost alive in the church, and continue on in our friendship and love with the Spirit of Life in all.


The Christian and the Atheist: On Discrimination

There’s always powerful dialogue to share between spiritual seekers and the spiritually dejected. Have no fear! We’re all just people talking to people, and the more we share with each other, the more opportunity we create between opposite views for mutual understanding. Here’s an interesting thread I found, shared on the topic of sexual discrimination.

Just to give you a little background, it’s become a popular Facebook fad, through the use of Pinterest, to post a lot of anti-God messages in bold font, from Atheist organizations.  A pic was recently posted (in light of recent Supreme Court activity), depicting “God” (of course shown with a white hand pointing a stern finger out from a white robe) sending a lightening bolt down to the earth. The text read along the lines that there are better things to believe in than an “invisible God,” because “God” discriminates against open marriage and true love. Below, is the full exchange of thoughts shared between the Christian and the Atheist on this pic and the subject of “biblically-based” sexual discrimination. (All exchange has been approved for sharing on the basis of anonymity.)

[In response to the lightening bolt pic]:

Christian: I’d say the ridiculousness of that thoughtless judgment has more to do with visible people, than with “God,” wouldn’t you?

Atheist: In the name of?

Christian: That doesn’t make a direct tie to God, just a sad and mistaken association. I could go around doing crappy things your name every day, and that doesn’t make you a jerk. It makes me a fool.  ;)

Atheist: But I do say crappy things… Proudly… And I’m putting them in a book soon… That’ll be proof that I said them.

Christian: Biblical literalists are funny. I agree. That’s a group of regrettably vocal fundamentalists, who tend to yell louder over the larger crowd. Strangely enough, biblical literalists most often don’t know the actual origin or context of the scriptural texts they’re reading, and are largely unaware of the hundreds of violations against Jewish law they commit every day, while they pick only one of the hundreds of Jewish codes for ‘healthy living’ to squint over (codes which applied very specifically to very specific social and environmental circumstances). There are laws listed in the biblical texts about things like the size of the hole you’re supposed to dig to bury your neighbor’s livestock if it dies on your property. Issues that existed for nomadic peoples living in the desert, thousands of years before industrialization. People pick and choose what they want to highlight most often as a result of their already-held personal philosophies about life (which, depending on how close to objective they’ve tried to become, are either guided by reasonable thought and general goodness, or thoughts clouded by and drawn toward unjust social philosophies of hate). That’s kind of the way it goes in religion. No matter which one you’re talking about.

[6 likes, end of conversation]

As an afterthought, these conversations aren’t presented as a way of proving the “Christian” right and the “Atheist” wrong. This is simply an example of the ways we share, the thoughts behind different viewpoints, and the ways those thoughts can be exchanged in healthier, more life-giving ways. Conversation is destroyed when we anchor spiritual/religious dialogue in a “me” vs. “them,” mentality. Let yourself be informed, let yourself be sure enough of your thoughts and beliefs to exchange them with others without the fear of losing them in the process, and without a need to push them as some kind of conversion tactic. Engage your beliefs with those who don’t have them, not for the sake of preaching, but for the sake of connecting, hoping that in this connection, a more balanced, and non-fundamentalist view can be known and understood quietly and rationally, between all of the fanatical clatter.

Take care, have fun, enjoy the life and minds of others, and let yourself be.


The Christian and the Atheist: On Belief

A lot of Christians are hesitant to speak with atheists or agnostics in real conversation, without feeling a frantic need to covert the other, or to justify their own religious beliefs—without feeling attacked and an urgency to defend themselves.  Don’t let these barriers and anxieties hold you back from the invaluable experience of exchanging honest words.  Climb the wall. Build a door, and let it stand open wide.

It’s important for us to be in dialogue with each other—-to share ourselves and connect with the lives around us—regardless of our differences.   Differences in view make it all the more necessary for us to be willing to mention and point out the things we each see in front of our eyes. This sharing of sight from different angles only broadens our perspective and widens our experience of the world.

This post and those to follow, reveal pieces of this kind of sharing between different (anonymous) Atheists and Christians,  with a hope to keep believers and nonbelievers naturally connected, and to help the church stay vitally in touch with the lives, the thoughts, and the issues crowded outside our sanctuary doors.

Some of the Christian perspectives shared here are my own, in response to different conversations; though additional Christian responses will be included  as this thread continues.  Please feel free to share your thoughts and ideas, too! Each one of these posts are absolutely open to more words!



Trust me, I wish I was raised with religion and truly believed, and had a church and a pastor and lived within that orb… I just can’t… I can’t buy it… I can’t believe it…

I learned to question things. Even if it’s something as small as a child’s lie. I refuse the open and spontaneous explanation.



I don’t talk about this stuff too much, because I don’t ever want to come off like I’m trying to persuade the person I’m talking with into seeing life the same way I do. Most of my friends and family being atheists and agnostics, I definitely respect the reason and thought behind those perspectives.

Anyway …with this those disclaimers out of the way(!) ;) I’ll just respond in saying that what each individual person believes is very complicated—regardless of the umbrella-term they place over their thoughts—and usually not the same (as much as Christians might often suppose this is true). What you don’t believe in as an atheist (agnostic?), I might not believe in, either.  Same goes for any other Christian who sits down to worship on Sunday.  No anthropomorphic, white-bearded, man-deity sending people callously off to “hell” for loving each other. No flawless book scrolled in magical,  golden ink that contains only historical fact and universally applicable/justifiable thoughts and actions. Slavery exists and is justified in biblical text. Women are marginalized and objectified. Murder, rape, and banishment recur frequently.  Reasonable people understand this text at one moment as isolated in its historical and cultural context, and in another, for its value as a sacred, spiritual guide for the present, realizing that side-by-side on those pages are both beautiful truth, and traces of the past perspectives of the ancients.  A ninety-year old woman—lifelong church-goer, very much devoted to her love of God and the teachings of Jesus—once shared at a bible study that she (like many who identify as Christian) didn’t believe Jesus (the man’s name was actually Yeshua) was born from a virgin, knowing it was a common ancient cultural practice to signify the people who’ve made a great impact on the lives around them, by attributing virginity to stories of their birth—in this, expressing the purity they found in the life of that figure. She pointed out from academic sources that similar birth-stories are told about Alexander the Great, Lao Tzu, The Buddha, etc). Not a stone was thrown. Not a torch set to flame. Not a cruel word shouted. Her thoughts were accepted, considered, appreciated, and absolutely still very much classifiable as Christian.

Anyway … it’s just different for everybody. Really the most dangerous myth is the belief that all belief is the same.  I could list a lot of things many Christians don’t believe,  past all of that stuff up there;  but I don’t want to bore your head into rotting and growing gray like that guy who drank from the wrong cup in Last Crusade! ;D

But just know that when you say you don’t buy it… I understand; and a lot of very deeply devoted and spiritual Christians don’t subscribe to a lot of those same things, either.  What I do believe is that we’re surrounded by life. And that life is a lot bigger than each one of us. The totality of all of that life together—that Whole of the energy of all moving matter—I believe that’s what people call “God.”  After this, how people interpret God…what they imagine of God… what they experience of God… well that changes from religion to religion, person to person.

Having doubts…having different thoughts…having different interpretations… that’s all a part of living as a person in relationship with the Life all around us and inside of us. To be a spiritual person is to question.  And in my opinion, it’s best not to try to limit the Unlimited with definitions using the speck of consciousness contained inside our subatomic skulls. Confining the idea of God to the barriers of our understanding only lessens the awe of the beautiful mystery of Life.

So… anyway, those are some of my long-winded thoughts. lol Sorry to make you scroll down so much! I definitely have a lot of interest in the subject and am always down to get into some good discussions, just as long as you know I’m not doing it as some kind of desperate attempt at trying to convert you…

Your thoughts:



Keep Riding

Your dad’s hands on the bike handles and the rear of the seat, while you awkwardly wobble.

Your small fingers squeezing tight to the grooves of the rubber grip, your feet peddling harder.

You remember that feeling? So unsure.  But even then, so young, you know it’s got to be done.

So you keep going. You keep your eyes forward. You pick up speed to move you faster and faster ahead.

And soon, you no longer feel that wobble.  You’re really moving! You can feel it! Something is finally carrying you along reliably— smoothly—letting you glide forward into all of those places ahead you strained so desperately to reach, just before.

You look back to the handle bars to make sure you still see those hands holding you tight, and find only your own.  Your face jerks to the left. Nothing but rushing trees and bushes.  Your dad’s not there. In fact, there’s no person there at all! It’s only you! Panic overtakes, until you realize something else is holding you up. Something powerful. Something you can’t see. Something that’s a part of all of the movement you’re now a part of, too. Something that if you trust, and realize is there, and let yourself feel and accept with each turn and each movement of your legs, it will hold you up steady as you go, no doubt.  So you move with whatever that silent, invisible force is. You embrace that fact of the universe, you feel both around you and inside of you. And you go with it. Letting it carry you as far as you’ll go.

How do you feel God in your life? How do you trust God to move you forward to the places far and close ahead?

Where do you find your faith?


A thought to meditate on this week:

On Faith and Doubt:
“An act of faith is an act of a finite being who is grasped by and turned to the infinite. It is a finite act with all the limitations of a finite act, and it is an act in which the infinite participates beyond the limitations of a finite act. Faith is certain in so far as it is an experience of the holy. But faith is uncertain in so far as the infinite to which it is related is received by the finite being. This element of uncertainty cannot be removed, it must be accepted. And the element in faith which accepts this is courage.” –Paul Tillich (Dynamics of Faith)




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