The Flea Market Jesus

I spent my honeymoon in Cancun. It's a nice place, but we're not sure we would choose Cancun again knowing what we do now. The resort we stayed in was pretty, and it was new. (At least it was new eight years ago when we were there.) One of the most memorable experiences for me, however, was an exercise in Western consumerism in its highest form. If you've ever been to a country like Mexico where tourism feeds so many hungry mouths then you will immediately understand what I am about to write about here. My wife and I were walking down the street among a plethora of merchants. They were selling silver, flags, dresses, sunglasses, baskets, hats, knives, ceramic elephants, shot glasses, picture frames, and other crap that most people traveling to Cancun already have and don't need to buy. Walking through the market among the merchants is entertaining in and of itself. They call out to you, tantalize you with their wares, and promise you the best price. And this is why you are there - to buy crap you don't need at the best possible price.

My wife spots a watch she thinks looks pretty. I ask the guy how much it costs.

"One eighty-five."

"How about fifteen?"

"No. I can make you a deal at One twenty-five."

"Twenty bucks."

"Ninety. That's the best I can do."

"That's all? No thanks. Have a nice day."

I turned and walked away. I made it four steps before he tapped me on the shoulder.

"Fifty."

"Thirty-five."

"Okay."

I opened my wallet,handed him two twenties, and asked for my change. He gave me a five and the watch. My wife put the watch on; I stuffed the five into my pocket wondering if I could have gotten it for less. I'm sure he wondered if he could have gotten forty out of me.

Some people like this bartering game. I don't. It makes me feel cheap. Not frugal. Cheap.

I had this same feeling last week. Here at Appalachian State University they have a thing for incoming freshmen called "Religious Convocation." The name is a little deceiving. It's not a convocation in the traditional sense of the word. It's more like a "Ministry Fair," which is to say "Ministry Flea Market." Each religious organization was allowed two minutes at a podium at the front of a large room to present what they offered the students. Campus Crusade for Christ. Campus Christian Fellowship. Hillel. Catholic Student Association. Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. Innervarsity. Pagan Student Association. Hindu Student Association. Wesley Foundation. Baptist Student Union. And there were churches too. All selling their wares. All trying to convince students why they needed to connect with them. Spouting off what they had to offer. It struck me that I was witnessing a perfect manifestation of consumerist religion.

"We have free food."

"We meet in the night club."

"We have cheap food."

"We have Bible studies."

"We do retreats.'

"We have lots of socials."

"We have fun."

Did I mention, "We have food."

It felt like I was in a sanctified-under-the-guise-of-spirituality skin market - religious organizations selling themselves. It felt dirty. Students came to consume religious goods. They came to buy at the least possible price. Business was good. And once again I felt like I was buying a watch in Cancun. I felt cheap.

What happened to the call of Christ? What happened to giving to the mission of the Kingdom? What happened to high stakes? What happened to giving all you have? What happened to taking up the cross? What happened to the Jesus who transforms lives?

We checked that Jesus at the door for a much cheaper version - the flea market version.

Scaring the Hell Out of 'Em

One...Two...
Freddy's coming for you.
Three...Four...
Better lock the door.
Five...Six...
Get your crucifix.
Seven...Eight...
Stay up late.
Nine...Ten...
Never sleep again.
Eleven...Twelve...
See you in Hell.

Fear is a powerful thing. When I was a baby, it made me cling to my mother. When I was a young child, it kept me from running into the street. As a teenager, it kept me from looking in the bathroom mirror in the dark. It has made me say no to drugs, sex, and skydiving. There are fears of real things like bombs, killer bees, and root canals. There are fears of not-so-real things like Freddy Kruger, bad luck, and evil leprechauns. I used to have shirts that I refused to wear because I feared the disaster that accompanied my donning of the shirt last week. I used to run from yellow dune buggies because of a recurring nightmare with a fiendish yellow dune buggy. I used to believe in Jesus because I feared Hell.

And there we have it - the great motivator of the Church: fear. I have come to see that fear is one of the largest and most widely used weapons in the Church's arsenal. Granted, the Church does not represent the only weapon-ization of fear. Batman does it. Terrorists do it. The pharmaceutical industry does it. And certainly, the Church does it. Fear of excommunication keeps people from questioning the status quo. Fear of missing a blessing keeps people tithing. Fear of burning in Hell motivates conversion. In their song, "Selling the Drama," Live sings:

and to love: a god

and to fear: a flame

and to burn a crowd that has a name

Live perceptively picks up on how the Church has gone about the work of evangelism: coercion. People choose to love God because they fear the alternative - a flame.

The traditional order of worship for a wedding involves some sort of question regarding the intent of the couple. The question is asked at the very beginning of the ceremony. It is designed to be sure that neither the bride nor the groom are being coerced. It is designed to eliminate things like shotgun weddings because love cannot exist without a will. Love is not the end of coercion. Yes, a shotgun wedding could conceivably last and even thrive in love, but for that to happen, the person being coerced must choose to love. The person coercing must give freedom. Coercion must cease for love to begin.

Why do we think a relationship with God is different? Why do we think fear is the appropriate starting place for love? Why do we think a fear of Hell necessitates a love for God?

Yes, the Bible calls for a healthy fear of God: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom..." and "But I'll tell you whom to fear. Fear God, who has the power to kill people and then throw them into hell." But this is a fear of God - a healthy fear, a reverent fear. The kind of fear we have sold (as Live would say) is a fear of Hell, loneliness, torment. We have idolized a dogma of Hell and placed it on the throne of God: "Fear Hell, not God."

I used to believe in Jesus because I was scared of Hell. Now I not only believe in Jesus, but I love Jesus. I even try to live like Him. I believe in Jesus, love Jesus, try to live like Jesus, because I think he had/has it right. I believe his way - the Kingdom of God - will bring about the restoration of the world...the way God created it to be. I don't know if Heaven and Hell are literal places or spiritual planes of existence or whatever you want to call it. And to me, it doesn't matter. I think following Jesus is the answer even if there is no heaven...or Hell.

Tyranny of Buildings

When I walked into a pastor-friend's office yesterday, I noticed his "credentials" on the wall. There was the ordination certificate. It looked very much like mine. But his diploma certifiying his Master of Divinity was quite different than mine. It had a picture above the name of the school. A picture of a building right there on the piece of paper. Not just any building either. It was a picture of a church building. It had that typical 1950's Baptist look to it: red brick, big concrete stairs, huge columns, and large white doors. I looked at my pastor-friend and said, "That's interesting. I wonder why they put a church building on there." He said that it was the chapel on the campus of the school. He added that it was the centerpoint of the campus. I gave some sort of grunt that indicated I understood. I had, after all, never visited his alma mater's campus, and the church building looked pretty generic to me...at least in the 1950's Baptist tradition of architecture. I personally didn't think it was anything worth putting at the top of a diploma, but then again, I can't really say anything about what choices schools make on these types of things. My alma mater has a camel for a mascot!

It was my pastor-friend's next remark that really got me thinking though: "There are a lot of schools that put their most important building on their diplomas." I hadn't thought of it before, but I guess it's true. I looked at his diploma one more time, looked over at him, and said, "We sure are a building-centered faith, aren't we?"

When people find out I lead a church, the first question they ask is, "Where is it?"

When a church enters a building project, they are "building a church."

When people wake up on Sunday mornings, they announce to the kids, "Get up. We're going to church."

Reminders for meetings come in the mail and announce, "We're meeting at the church."

And people like me (called church-planters) who start churches haven't really arrived until we have some sort of building.

Church bulletins often feature pictures of the building. Church directories often present an image of the building on the cover. And monuments are placed on the walls of church buildings celebrating who gave the money to erect portions of the building. It is no wonder that the life of my friend's school centered around the chapel. Much of the faith of Christ-followers is centered around church buildings. His school boasts that by centering their campus' life around the chapel, they are centering their school on worship. Funny. I thought Christian worship was centered on Jesus.

The tyranny of the church building in the Christian faith is, I think, related to the institutionalizing of our faith. We have moved from a decentralized narrative faith to a centralized faith of "place." The uncontainable, wild story of God has been tamed and controlled by erecting buildings. It has moved from organism to organization. We have traded the Kingdom of God for a building. I don't know if the buildings are at the root of the problem or if the buildings are the symptoms of an even larger problem. All I know is the two - institution and building - are closely related. As for how incestuous they are (i.e. kissing cousins, brother and sister, or worse) I don't know. But something is definitely wrong.