Searching for Jesus in America

This week has been a little surreal for us. We kicked off our biggest concert series to date, which had me taking a very uncomfortable stroll though memory lane as I tried to find pictures for a slide presentation. When I got to the 2017-2018 catalogue, there were a few eye rolls and audible groans of frustration and annoyance. It’s crazy to think, while in the thick of it, we honestly thought the Christian music world would be a second home to our eldest children. (I’ve also never been more thankful that Sydney saw through the smoke and mirrors of an industry driven by money… in the name of Jesus, of course.)

I will also say that reconnected with a Christian artist we met with during that time. One of the good ones, I say with true humor. (And, for the record, there were several of them. I don’t cast a broad brush stroke over the whole industry.) But, I’ve never been more thankful that we escaped that hot mess. (I used to say, “We dodged a bullet.” But, given where we are as a society, that expression is in poor taste… at the very least.)

This week also included a new experience for me: I attended one of those school board meetings that you see on exploitive TV. I’m not doing to discuss the topic of the dumpster fire, but I will say that the hard-line, “conservative evangelicals” were in full force. The following day someone sent me a screenshot of social media posts made by these self-proclaimed Christians. The statements and accusations were similar to the sentiments shared the night before. However, what caught me off guard was the icon this person used as her identifying marker. Using the same graphic imaging with the social justice movement, it stated:

Christian Lives Matter

So what do Christian celebrity culture and right-wing political ideology have in common? Simply put, they have absolutely nothing to do with Jesus. I can sit here all day and share story after story… things from Nashville, things from our extended family disfunction and church trauma. (Do you guys remember when I told you how one of our old pastors sent me an early morning text telling me to stop calling our Liberty University and Jerry Falwell, Jr. a few years ago? Well, we now know who was on the right side of that hot mess… and it wasn’t him.)

The one thing that gets lost in translation here is my disposition and intention. I’m TRULY not bitter anymore. My husband and I actually laugh about the Jerry, Jr. incident now. But, it can also be incredibly overwhelming… because there’s a price to be paid in all of this.

Our witness to the world.

To take a slogan like Black Lives Matter and making it about you… actually underscores their point even more. This life isn’t about us. It’s about Jesus. And when I walked into that school board meeting this week, that’s one of the first things I thought about. If Jesus entered that room, would he sit on the side with the men and women wearing shirts about God and the military? Would be he condone, or condemn, their insistence that the flag of pedophilia was the “logical” next step in a “woke” classroom. (Ironically, never acknowledging the horrendous number of pastors in our state who are being charged with actual sex crimes against children.)

I’m CONSTANTLY questioning the “faith tradition” I was brought up in. That my kids were brought up in. And maybe that’s the point. It was a tradition…based in, and on, an institution. Thankfully Jesus is so much bigger than that and my faith as a Christian has never been in question. But, how I choose to live out that faith is more important now than ever. A HUGE shift has taken place in our family.

For years, I’ve held on to the false belief that me must remain in the institution of church… but I’m starting to see that remaining in the institution has been the biggest obstacle when it comes to truly following Jesus… and being the REAL church. We can’t hold onto the institution and FULLY embrace what is real.

Years ago I had one of those conversations that will FOREVER be burned into my mind. It was with the area director of a para-church ministry that worked with local college students. And while the entire conversation was fascinating, one thing stood out. One phrase in particular:

At the end of the day, if “the church” was TRULY acting as the Church, there would be no need for para-church organizations.

He said it so nonchalantly, absent any tone of condemnation, or even bitterness. It was just a casual matter-of-fact commentary on the reality of Americanized Christianity. If the church in America (but, it’s not limited the the US), was focused solely on the the business of Jesus, aka making disciples and meeting the needs of the most marginalized, then all the para-church ministries outside the church wouldn’t be needed.

It’s an interesting hypothesis. And, personally, I’m not interest in debating whether he was correct or not. (For the record, I think he is.) But, I am interested in taking that conversation to a deeper level as it applies to our story and where we find ourselves right now as a family and as an organization.

The truth is simple: In our three years as a NON-FAITH-BASED organization, we’ve had more people ask us about our faith than in the previous 20 years together. On the surface, it makes sense. When you’re faith-based, the assumption is there.

But, if we’ve learned anything it’s this: Be careful of assumptions when it comes to proclaiming a faith in Christianity. It means different things to different people. And, honestly, I’m so tired of navigating conversation and unpacking peoples assumptions. Recently, we did a presentation at a church in a community that experienced a youth suicide last fall. Truth be told… we don’t typically work with churches. Our family suffers from serious PTSD from evangelicalism. I’m not sure we’ll ever go back to Maine, even to visit, for that reason. (Or if we do, we just won’t tell anyone! Kidding… sort of.)

But we also know, from unfortunate experience, that kids in the church need just as much help when it comes to the mental health conversation than those who aren’t. And there’s a convincing argument to be made that they need it more. There’s a lot I can say about that particular experience. And maybe one day I will. But for now I will say this:

We were called in after out first presentation (first of three) because someone was concerned that we didn’t talk about Jesus. Something we were upfront and honest about at the beginning. (And I want to say that the people responsible for bringing us in knew this, understood why, and were 100% supportive of our decision.) But this other person did a deep dive into our website and podcast looking for ammunition against us evidence of our faith and went so far as to call us humanists and compared our work to that of the Church of Satan.

Seriously. I can’t make this up.

And it was at that point that I stopped the conversation and told them that while our work is important… protecting my kids from more church-related trauma is my top-priority and if their church wasn’t a safe place for them we would walk away right then and there. Thankfully, the pastor spoke up and not only encouraged us in our work but made it very clear that he understood our work, our goals (personal and professional) and that he was an ally in the mental health conversation.

A welcomed breath of fresh air for someone that was about to pass out (figuratively) from holding my breath for so long.

That past few months has had me on the ropes. Rethinking church (yet again), how we move forward in community, and HARD changes that need to be made. Holding onto Jesus and letting go of everything else.

Everything. Else.

The past three months have been… unexpected. And I guess that’s the reason I’m dusting off the laptop again. Not so much because I think anyone actually cares about my opinions enough to read this blog, let alone follow it. I just want a central place to document the journey and, most likely, dissect it in the months and years to come.

At the risk of beating a dead horse, I won’t rehash past trauma when it comes to the Church. Chances are, if you’re reading this you either A) know our story, B) have experienced your own Church trauma, or C) the title of this blog has piqued your attention enough to land you on this particular entry. Either way, the story’s the same: As frustrated as our family is with the Americanized version of pseudo-Christianity, we still hold on to the teachings of Jesus and believe the Lord is still very much at work.

He just might not be using the Church as His primary vessel for that work.

But, right now, the big thing we’re wrestling through are the WAYS OF MAN…. and how the Church REALLY likes to use (hijack, exploit, profit from) them for their own benefit. (And PLEASE note that I said “for their own benefit” and not for the benefit of the Kingdom, or for the Lord.)

And at the risk of falling into the trap of sounding bitter, or resentful, like so many others… I want to push back against ALL systems, not just the ones being utilized by the Church. We live in a culture that primarily caters to affluence, thrives on nepotism, exploits the oppressed… all for the “benefit of the kingdom” or the bottom line. We see it ALL THE TIME.

Sydney and I can only laugh at this point.

As an example, we stopped counting how many times people have told us that our lives would be so much easier if we just focused on one thing when it comes to the non-profit. It would be easier to raise money, get more people involved, and promote our work. And if we were in the business of selling something, that would be great.

But we’re not.

A couple of years ago someone told us the best thing we could do was create a separation between who we are as people and what we’re building as an organization because we should want the non-proft to exist outside of us. It seemed like great advice at the time. But, it really wasn’t. If we’re REALLY honest. we don’t want the non-profit to exist after us.

We don’t want the non-proft to exist at all.

What we really want is for our communities to become so healthy that the non-profit has no need to exist. If we’re working from a mindset that our organization will be around in 20 years then we’re missing the point.

And there’s a parallel here for the Church.

Sometimes I think we’re SO FAR REMOVED from the tenants of the Christian faith that we’ve forgotten WHAT is being built and WHY it’s built. But, more importantly, we’ve forgotten that we’re NOT actually the ones building it.

I would strongly recommend doing a Google search for how much money the Church has spent in the past 10 years when it comes to the construction of buildings… for themselves. (This is also a great time to insert the statistic about how Americans spend more money of purchasing Halloween costumes for their pets than they do in reaching the lost.)

So, in the spirit of fairness and self-reflection, I thought it would be “great” to shine a spotlight on us and where we’ve been wrestling through these “discrepancies” in our own lives. Over the next few weeks (maybe months because there’s a lot) I’m going to address some things personally and professionally.

News Flash: There’s work to do. And we’re not interested in keeping up appearances or playing games when there’s so much at stake and so much work to do. Recently someone in our community accused me of being unprofessional and while there’s a lot I could say about this, here’s the most important: Under the paradigm from which she operates, I probably am.

But I don’t operate under that paradigm and I never will. And, truth be told, her remarks were more about who I am as a person. I am who I am… as a mom, a wife, a non-profit leader. I don’t take hats on and off. (Full disclosure, I offered a sincere apology. It was never my intention to offend her. There’s a REAL tension between not being responsible for how people receive things they don’t like and extending grace and compassion when the offense occurs.) But not living up to someone else’s expectations doesn’t make me unprofessional.

I honestly hold all of that in tension because if I had a dollar for every time someone called me unprofessional, problematic, subversive, non-conforming, unrelenting… or my personal favorite from the male dominated authoritarian (and spiritually abusive) church leadership circles… unwilling to submit… I would be rich. (My husband is quick to point out that being rich will never be our reality because I will just give the money away anyway.)

And he’s not wrong.

I’ve been wrestling through this question a lot lately. I know the “right” answer. Something along the lines of “It’s not a building, but a group of people who follow Jesus.” But, that answer is lacking in specificity, at best, mainly because it leaves you questioning what it means to follow Jesus… an answer I thought was obvious until a few years ago.

Definitely not the case.

Yet, even in dissecting the meaning of discipleship and everything that comes with a true belief in Jesus, one that moves past intellect and leads us to a transformed life, we’re left with a mixed bag of opinions, theologies, dogmas, and a whole lot of questions.

After spending almost a year on the road, visiting a new church every Sunday, our family has experienced many expressions of community. And I’ll confess that I was more than a little annoyed when Covid stranded us in Chattanooga, historically the “Most Churched City” in the country (per capita). For someone with a heart for church planting, this was frustrating to say the least.

But that frustration has led to some serious soul searching over the past few years.

Because not only is Chattanooga an epicenter for churches, it’s also a leader in the non-profit sector. (Yet another reason why I believe the Lord has a sense of humor: The LAST place church planting New Englanders who run a non-profit would plan to put down roots would be in a community like Chattanooga. This city has enough churches and non-profits already, not to mention the important fact that Chattanooga is a place where EVERYTHING is about who you know… and we knew absolutely no one.)

Yet, here’s the paradox: How is it possible to have a church on almost every corner, but have an exploding rate of homelessness? A high violent crime rate? A foster care system in desperate need of foster parents?

Over the past couple of months I’ve had two conversations that have made me want to take up this blog again. The first one happened back in the fall when a local church asked if they could help us with a volunteer project we were organizing. They wanted their congregants to wear shirts representing their church. Our response was simple: We NEVER wear our shirts at volunteer events. Mostly because we don’t want to bring attention to ourselves. And, at the risk of stepping on the soap box, I honestly don’t understand the mentality, outside of being a safety precaution… but even then, you can wear neon green shirts that don’t act as a billboard for your church. Publicizing a church at a volunteer event seems to fly in the face of Matthew 6:3. (Granted, we’re not necessarily doing things in secret, but, at the very least, let’s be discreet.)

The second conversation revolved around a WHAT a specific church was going to be known for in their community. Specifically, what types of services to the community did they want to be known for. And this is when the light bulb went off. I started going back through conversations I’ve had over the past 20 years and there is MOST DEFINITELY a common thread when it comes to programming and ministries. Every church we’ve ever been a part of seems, at least in part, to be motivated by a desire to be known for something they do, or some service they provide.

And maybe this is part of the problem.

Maybe instead of focusing time and energy on what the local institution (a local church) would be known for, we could focus on equipping and empowering congregants to step into those spaces in their communities … on their own. Or, better yet, ask other congregants to join them.

But, without the shirts.

The truth is simple. Most communities don’t need another community kitchen or food pantry. They need volunteers to show up with no other agenda but to love people. To see them and to serve them. Without promoting themselves, or the place they gather on Sunday morning.

I always go back to a conversation I had with an elder at a church in Portland and how the leadership intentionally decided to give tens of thousands of dollars to our local children’s hospital in hopes that some of the wealthy doctors would start coming (AND TITHING) to our church… instead of giving it to a local ministry that was actively serving the refugee community and having a difficult time making payroll.

Seriously. I can’t make this up.

When we’re motivated… even in part… to make decisions based on how they elevate OUR names, or line our pockets, we’ve already missed the point.

BUT… here’s the REAL reason I want to write again:

The work we’re going in our community, partnered with other organizations, non-profits, and businesses is the closest things I’ve ever experienced to the community I hear churches talk about. And, yes, some of them are followers of Jesus. But, some of them aren’t. Some of them also left the church a long time ago. And, of those individuals who have left, I can’t tell you how many of them have referenced the work we’re doing, asking if we’re “faith-based.”

We’re not.

But as a family we’re living out our faith with no agenda but to simply help others.

And with no tacky neon shirts. EVER.

For the past two months, I’ve been pushing into the tension I’m feeling with church, trying to find the words to articulate what seems off… whether that’s with me, or with the collective church (most likely both). And yesterday, as I sat in the laundromat with my husband, thanks to a broken washer, it hit me like a freight train. Truth be told, it’s been sitting right in front of me for years, decades really. But, it required me to string together a reoccurring theme, or maybe it’s more of an ever-present variable, which IRONICALLY wasn’t me.

Let me explain.

If you’ve read anything about our journey, you know our family has wrestled with the contemporary, westernized version of church for over a decade. It’s always seemed weirdly “non-biblical” to me and whenever I would ask questions about it to leadership, at best I’d be dismissed. When I persisted in my questioning, I became labeled “problematic”, or my personal favorite: Radical. But, as I sat in the laundromat yesterday, looking back at the common variables in all of those church experiences, it was really hard to NOT see myself as the one thing that remained constant. However, after spending a year on the road talking to other people, hearing their similar experiences, I also knew I wasn’t alone. The things we saw and experienced weren’t isolated events; they were systemic problems within an institution so far removed from some tenets of true Christian faith that it became hard to tell if, collectively, we had become a church committed to the work of Jesus, or a business looking to elevate ourselves… in the name of Jesus.

And then it hit me: THAT was the common variable.

And this is where it get’s nuanced, complicated, nit-picky… the adjective we choose might shine a light on any pre-conceived ideas or judgments we’re clinging to. In some (most) of our pervious church experiences, this elevation of self was obviously self-serving. Whether it was the church that intentionally decided to NOT give away its Christmas tithe to the Christian youth center struggling to make its monthly payroll, instead opting for the well funded children’s hospital in town because they though catching a few doctors in their proverbial net would be advantageous for the bottom line, or the multi-million dollar capital campaigns to construct some of the biggest buildings in our local towns, that ironically would be empty most days of the week, all while homeless shelters continue to bust at the seems and tent villages start populating urban areas.

In both cases, rationalization ran deep. I mean, you can make almost anything look good, and, I dare say, sound biblical. But, are we in the business, pun intended, of doing good… when it could mean forsaking what is better, or best? What is gospel-centered, Holy Spirit inspired and fully-immersed in the love of Jesus. And this is why that light-bulb moment sitting in the laundromat yesterday was so important. These examples are so obviously off the mark that they make other EQUALLY off-centered ideas seem good, I dare-say biblical… when they might not be.

I had a professor in seminary who used a great visual representation to explain the pit-falls of settling for the good option and forsaking the best. He asked us to imagine a straight line from Point A to Point B. This represents a life in complete obedience to our faith in Jesus. (At this point, you might be remembering all the memes of zig-zagged lines that more accurately illustrate our lives of disobedience through the years!) While perfection, this side of eternity, isn’t attainable, the sentiment behind the analogy is important: Any deviation off that line, no matter how acute, over time, will lead you far away from the final destination. (Jump to ALL those sermons talking about how it’s never too late to course correct! This is true. BUT, what we’re talking about here is more than an individual making a mistake, or falling into sin. We’re talking about collectively moving in a direction that elevates man, more importantly our individual agendas as a small body of believers, over the kingdom agenda of elevating Christ by collectively, in unity, working together to be His hands and feet to the most marginalized in our communities.

What if our mindset has been wrong this whole time?

It didn’t hit me until recently when I heard a pastor say, “At the end of the day, if we no longer exist as a church body (understand this to mean: as a registered tax-exempt organization… a specific local church body that differentiates itself from another local body thanks to branding), our loss should be felt in the community.” At the time, I 100% agreed with the sentiment… and, in a way, I still do. But, there’s something deeper here we NEED to dig into because, at the end of the day, the ideology is no different than the examples given above if what we want them to miss is our “small banner” church and not the BIG C church… if it’s not Jesus.

Over the years, our frustration with the institution of church has been its insular practices and programming. There’s a temptation to adopt an “us vs them” mentality as we focus more on bringing people INTO our buildings and not going OUT into the world, if you will. And, just to be clear, I don’t think most of that is ill-intended. On the contrary. But, I also don’t think it’s what Jesus intended the Church to be. When I read the gospels and the Book of Acts, I see a desire to grow so fast and furious that no building COULD contain it, so why bother trying. But, there’s also a second part to this.

While I know there are exceptions to every rule and generalizations are neither fair, nor totally accurate, there are some common characteristics, or themes, we’ve seen far too often that also need to be addressed because together they paint a more accurate picture of our predicament. Generally speaking, we have become a Church that is known more for what its against than what its for. We’ve become more outspoken about our pseudo-political inclinations than our Holy Spirit, Jesus-centered proclamations. We’ve confused sacrificial living with comfortable (and convenient) giving. We’ve raised the banners of small c churches looking to make their mark in society, while trampling the banner of Jesus… that really isn’t a banner at all because humility doesn’t subscribe to recognition.

So, this is where we land. Looking at the landscape. Starting with this foundation.

Confession: I love the Church, but I’m not always a fan of how Christians walk it out. (And, I include myself in that assessment.) The other night, I told my family that I’m taking a break from Sunday morning gatherings for a while and it took them some time to find their words. For the record, I actually LOVE our community of people. This is the most content I’ve felt among a body of believers in a really long time, if ever. We meet at a concert venue/bar and worship is stripped down. We don’t have programs, or classes, and the only regularly scheduled activity is a weekly morning meet up at a local coffee shop. We’re encouraged to be in our community, which is what our family is all about.

So, what’s the problem? (Problem isn’t the right word choice here, but regardless, it feels like the obvious question that most people would ask.)

In simple terms, something feels off. And, to be fair, I doesn’t have anything to do with our specific church. It’s more about American church culture and what we’ve made our Sunday morning services about. Our family has been around the block a few times, and literally around the country, experiencing worship gatherings across the theological spectrum. From the congregation that practices high orthodoxy and orthopraxy, to the groups that would be annoyed by the perceived arrogance associated with both of those words, the iterations of church gatherings are too many to count, but if we’re honest, I think each member of our family would probably agree that all of them just seemed a little… off.

I will attempt to break down some of the bigger issues. (Entire books have been written about this subject, so my synopsis will be lacking, but it will underscore a few points.) At the end of the day, I feel like there are three, maybe four, basic church operating models. From our experience, most people want to group churches into two categories: Mega-church and non-mega (small) church. This is understandable, but I also think it’s too simplistic. More importantly, understanding some of the nuances of these two groups helps paint a better picture of some of the problems.

#1: Mega-churches – Upfront, I’m not here to bash mega-churches. (It’s true… I don’t understand them, but I know a whole lot of followers of Jesus who serve and lead these churches. Remember, this is about putting my finger on what I perceive to be “off”.) Mega-churches can also be broken into sub-groups, like one site and multi-sight. Some of the “red flags” can be seen in both of these examples. Many of these churches are insular, meaning YOU come to THEM. They have programs and classes for everything under the sun. Honestly, there’s no need to be in the community, because they have created their OWN community. (I could write a whole post just on this one topic!) There are multiple services a day and sometimes on multiple days. Everything is well rehearsed and well oiled, to the point that every service is exactly the same. (And some would argue, to the exclusion of the Holy Spirit.)The multi-site is actually more confounding to me. It’s like church planting in a way, branching out into other neighborhoods and communities, but refusing to allow autonomy. Additionally, there’s also something disconcerting to me with the multi-site models where the lead pastor will entrust a campus pastor to shepherd a flock, but not to give the sermon.

#2: Small church – This is my preference, but it’s not without it’s own set of blindspots. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve met church leaders who put more of an emphasis on NOT being a mega-church than on WHY small church is important to them. Being the antithesis of a mega church doesn’t make you better. Whether you are a small church that meets in a building, or a home church, your size and location don’t legitimize you in the eyes of the Lord. In our experience, home churches can be just as insular, or more so, than mega churches. And arrogant. We’ve also been a part of small churches that essentially utilize all the programing of a mega-church, but on a smaller scale. They offer the same classes and programs, just with smaller attendance. They spend most of their money on buildings and salaries, just smaller amounts.

So, what’s the answer?

I have no idea, but I have a few guesses. One of the similarities we’ve seen in both the mega church and small church models include the emphasis on “bringing” people to church. And I think this is part of the problem… thanks, in part, to the Seeker Church movement. In my opinion, the church gathering is for believers… not to the exclusion of “seekers” but, not catered to them. I believe it’s a time for fellow Christians to come together, worshiping the Lord, celebrating the work He is doing IN us and THROUGH us. But, aside from the worship services that resemble rock concerts (which leaves many questioning WHAT you’re worshiping), a lot of the churches we’ve visited looked more like college lecture rooms with students daydreaming, doodling, or fighting the urge to fall asleep.

There’s a weird disconnect.

So, for the next three months, I’ve decided to do something a little out of character for me: Not attend Sunday morning services. I’ve had a few people ask why I think this is necessary and the answer is simple: It isn’t. But, it’s something I keep coming back to. And I think it’s more about what the Lord is doing in me than anything else. Some of us have made Sunday morning into a ritual, or even a mindless routine. For some, an idol. But there’s also something else. I see the Lord mightily at work in the people and places around our town. While our backgrounds are varied, our feelings about the church are oddly similar: We love it, but our city isn’t necessarily impacted by it. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot going on. Incredibly wonderful things. A lot of the people we work with are regular congregants at other local churches and some aren’t, but they all say the same thing: The Lord is doing something, inexplicably connecting us. And I want to press into that.

I need to press into that. 

I’m not sure I have all the words to correctly articulate my thought process here. But, maybe my hypothesis would be something like this: If you invest in the lives of the people around you… the Church will organically form. My hope, after the three months, and maybe beyond, is to be connected to a community of believers that are living FOR Jesus. Where their Christianity isn’t cultural… it’s consuming. Where our community is better because we are a part of it. And where we don’t view our Sunday morning sermons as weekly pep talks to get us through the next six days, but that our time together is a true celebration of everything the Lord has done in and through us during the week. It feels a little lofty and optimistic…

… but it also feels like Jesus. 

So, I’m taking a few months to turn over the soil in my own heart and, in the meantime, I’ll be here, every week, to share more about what’s going on in our community and wrestle out all my thoughts.

Over the past few years, we’ve been asked hundreds of questions about our family. Do we REALLY like each others as much as it seems? (The answer is generally YES, but not always… especially if you’re asking before my morning coffee and/or when it’s past my bedtime and the kids are still practicing music.) Do we ever argue? (Um… YES, frequently. But, we can usually work through our differences and, while incredibly imperfect, we’re stronger for it.)

However, this is the question we’re asked the most: Have you ever thought about writing a book? (At this point, we all laugh whenever anyone asks. We know our story is filled with serendipitous stories. Honestly, too many to believe… if we didn’t actually experience them for ourselves.)

But this probably won’t be the book everyone expects. The words of these pages will, undoubtedly, share our family’s story: starting Be The Change Youth Initiative, traveling the US in a RV, landing in a city and creating a new life from scratch… in the middle of a world-wide pandemic, and, of course, our story of church hurt and our journey with mental health. But, how I’m choosing to tell our story, woven into the fabric of our growing community, reflected in the lives of the strangers we’ve met, who have become like family, closer in many ways than our extended, biological family.

Our story is FAR from over. Our life is still inexplicably unpredictable and chaotic at times, so content is never in short supply. But, after spending almost three years of our lives immersed in the conversations of mental health, church hurt, and the search for genuine community, our family has found itself in the most intriguing of situations: Creating community, outside the institutional church, through simple acts of using our gifts and talents to create positive change in our neighborhoods.

From the outside looking in, our life seems complicated, over-whelming, and inimitable. (And, let me just say, on most days, this is accurate. Our life is all of those things.) But, there is beauty in the mess. And grace. And, from those things, something beautiful in emerging:

Community

When I first started documenting our journey, I called the blog Searching for Jesus in America. For obvious reasons, an appropriate title for chronicling our travels around the country. But, after Covid-19 grounded us in Chattanooga, which, ironically, is the the most “churched” city (per capita) in the country, the name began taking on a new meaning. In so many ways, we’re in the epicenter of what some people refer to as American-ized Christianity. The term means different things to different people, subjectively shaped from bad experiences, but also from an apparent adoption of cultural mores, categorically in opposition to the gospel.

The temptation would be to simply change the name of this space to Searching of Jesus in Chattanooga. But the truth is… I’m not really searching for Jesus. We never were. We WERE searching for where the Lord was at work. We were searching for people who were so busy being the hands and feet of Jesus they didn’t have time to post about it, or profit from it. (Honestly, this is why you see HUGE gaps of time in this blog.)

But, at the same time, to NOT chronicle what we’re witnessing in this crazy experiment of life outside the confines of ecclesiology, would be a dereliction of our responsibilities to speak out against the institutions of man as we continue to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ. And, please don’t miss what I’m saying here: We have created institutions (churches) that neither reflect the heart, nor the mission, of Jesus. The bride of Christ, is the church… as a people… committed to living in community, abounding in grace, committed to caring for people. Period.

So how do we end abortions in our country?

Having traveled across the United States, talking to those who are fierce advocates, both for and against a woman’s right to legally accessing an abortion, we’ve recognized a few areas in the conversation that would benefit from dissection. Not for the purpose of refuting one side over the other, but merely to help us shine a light on how we can effectively communicate our thoughts, even when it comes to the most incendiary topics. In most cases, we’ve found it boils down to three things: 1) talking past one another, specifically having absolutely no interest in listening to what the other person has to say; 2) using and applying a belief system not held by the other party; and/or 3) as a follow up of the second point, applying a doctrinal belief to someone’s life who has absolutely no desire for you to do so.

I want to take each of these points, dissecting them from both sides of the debate, and suggest a way to engage in HEALTHY conversations that will move us towards a Christlike posture reflecting the love of our Savior, and not the hatred and condemnation of the Pharisees.

The first point is actually the easiest to address and it takes us straight to scripture. The world will know we belong to Jesus by the expression of our love for one another. (John 13:34-35) I have raised this point during many of my conversations with those holding an anti-abortion position and, without fail, 100 percent of the time, their response is always the same: I’m loving the baby. And while I appreciate the heart behind this response, there’s a glaring flaw in the rationale: Loving the baby doesn’t preclude us from loving the woman carrying the baby. As Christians, we don’t get to choose who we’re called to love and equally important, the laws of man should never dictate the limits of our love.

To hold a “pro-life” stance means you not only advocate for the life of the unborn, you chase after the heart of the woman carrying the child. You advocate for the life of the prisoner on death row because you believe in the power of redemption, and you never settle for children being detained in cages, separated from their parents… no matter which administration created the laws, implemented the laws or upholds the laws. Because when we label ourselves “pro-life,” we don’t get to pick and choose which lives are worthy of advocacy. As Christians, we hold that God is the judge. (Yet, so often we like to step into those shoes. Some of us walk in them quite frequently… to the point we’ve worn holes into them.)

And PLEASE hear me out. I’m not advocating for those who oppose abortion to stop opposing it. What I’m asking is for you to take a hard look at HOW you’re opposing it. What I’m asking is for ALL of us to look at what a TRUE “pro-life” stance entails. And then filter that through the absolute radical existence of Jesus and the gospel… and his call on our lives to love others. This is an important conversation the church needs to have. Desperately. One of the more interesting points of contention on our trip thus far has been the level of defensiveness (and divisiveness) surrounding this topic… on both sides of the issue. But, if we can get to a place where we’re willing to listen to opposing views, be open to the possibility (*cough, cough* PROBABILITY) that we all have something to learn, and remind ourselves that Jesus calls us to care for EVERY life, no matter the circumstances… if nothing else…. the tone of our conversation will change. As will the witness we are providing to a watching world.

Points two and three go hand in hand… and this has, by far, been the MOST contentious point of discussion across all topics we’ve dissected. From a Christian perspective, the “pro-life” stance is based on the belief of life beginning at conception. As a Christian, I hold this belief. But I also recognize that many people don’t, including many in the church. (Again, check your response to my last sentence.) But, here’s something I find incredibly interesting: None of those people, despite being “pro-choice” believed in elective abortions being performed in the third trimester. And most had a hard time with elective abortions in the second trimester. And, on the flip side, not every anti-abortion proponent referred to abortions as infanticide. (And, as a point of clarification, abortion is not infanticide. While I understand the heart behind this argument, I would contend that using the verbiage is intentionally inflammatory and does very little, if anything, to spur on any helpful dialogue.)

As I close, I want to revisit the first sentence in this post: So how do we end abortions in our country? It wasn’t really a fair question because the truth is simple. We won’t. Even if the Supreme Court reverses Roe V. Wade, and every judge appointed to the bench is a staunch, “pro-life” conservative, abortions will never end. But that doesn’t mean the circumstances surrounding a woman’s (or a couple’s) choice can’t change.

And I believe this is where the Church can have the most profound impact when it comes to drastically reducing the number of abortions taking place here… and around the world. My next post, will be the final one in this series. I will share my own personal views and will propose a solution to help us move in the direction of Christ’s love.

I’ve been sharing my story for years, as the Lord prompts me. Almost always when I hear a woman confess her abortion under a heavy cloak of shame. (And it’s incredibly important to know the difference between guilt and shame.) Almost always, it’s after they hear the story of how Jamie and I chose to keep Sydney. And the words of these women are almost always the same, “Your story has a good ending, but mine doesn’t.”

And this is a problem we have created… in the church.

Whether intentional, or not, we’ve created a culture in some of our churches where the “success” stories within the congregation become idolized. One of my friends calls it “ill-famous.” She refers to it as having an illness, or an exploitive sin, that a church can leverage to their advantage. (And she would know, because her family’s story has been requested for use by her church on multiple occasions… including a building campaign.) Unbelievable as it might sound, it goes something like this: If you’ve been healed from a disease, overcome a significant obstacle, or freed from the grips of horrific sin… your story is a commodity that can be used (exploited) by the church. And, obviously, the repercussions of this can be devastating to the church body, as a whole. As one person on the road described it: If you have reoccurring sin you just can’t seem to conquer, or some “almost-unforgiveable-sin-that-OF-COURSE-Jesus-will-forgive-but-the-church-will-NEVER-forget,” you become a second class citizen of sorts. It’s like Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter. You are forever known by the sin you committed.

When asked why I don’t share my story more, the truth is pretty simple. I’m not interested in dealing with a lot of judgmental Christians with HUGE planks in their eyes… on an issue Jesus had already dealt with. Like the Apostle Paul wrote to the Galatians, I’m free for freedom’s sake. Period. Plus, self-righteousness disguised as holy righteousness isn’t something I have the patience for. (And for the record, neither does Jesus.)

But then I started listening to more women share their stories. And men. Would it surprise you to know that 54% of the women who had abortions in 2014 were identified as Protestant or Catholic? Let that statistic sink in. Over 50% of the women who had abortions in 2014 were professed Christians. Stop right now and take inventory of your thoughts at this exact moment. Are you reflexively questioning the salvation of these women? Were you overcome with anger and judgment because of the decisions they made? Or did your heart grieve for them, NOT from a place of superiority, but from a place of compassion?

When we first got on the road, Sydney and I had the chance to speak with a long time pregnancy care advocate based in Ohio. She had spent an extensive amount of time with young women who chose to terminate their pregnancies. (She also spent time talking to the Church about tangible ways they could help women facing unplanned pregnancies, but I will focus more on that in the next post.) At one point in the conversation, she told us that many of the women looking to terminate their pregnancies were professed Christians; and when asked about their decision to go through with the abortions, almost all of them had the same response:

“Jesus will forgive me, but the Church won’t.”

I STILL remember that moment. Sydney and I were sitting on the sofa in the RV and both of our mouths dropped open at the same time. So many thoughts were going through our minds and we were eager to ask so many follow up questions, but, first, had to recover from our stunned silence. This statement is profound, and in my experience (and the experiences of so many other men and women I have met), painfully accurate. Christ will forgive us for our sins, no matter how heinous they are, and never hold them to our face as a reminder of who we were. The Church, on the other hand, hasn’t had the best track record with extending grace when it comes to having children out of “wedlock” or to those who have had abortions. (See my Scarlet Letter reference above.) Honestly, the choice is rather simple: you can choose to take the pregnancy to full term and deal with all the whispers from within the church, or you can terminate the pregnancy and suffer in silence.

But, either way… you suffer.

When you think of the mission and message of Jesus, this is an incredibly damning indictment against the Church… and should give us great pause. (And this issue isn’t limited to the subject of abortion.) If I’m being honest, I imagine several people read the line “many of the women looking to terminate their pregnancies were professed Christians” and scoffed at the notion of anyone calling themselves a Christian while even CONSIDERING an abortion, let alone HAVING one. And here lies the problem.

Well… one of them anyway.

Years ago, Jamie and I shared our story with a local pastor. I remember the look of confusion that came across his face. He then asked, with genuine sincerity, “But, weren’t you guys Christians?” It was completely unfathomable to him that we would even consider abortion as an option if we professed Jesus as our Savior. (Ironically, he didn’t question our salvation when it came to having sex outside of marriage.) I’ve also had a young man look me in the eye and tell me there’s no such thing as a “pro-choice” Christian. (And before anyone COMPLETELY loses their minds, pro-choice DOES NOT mean pro-abortion. It would be SO MUCH easier to argue a “pro-life” stance if it did. This is something I’ve come to learn on this trip. And something I will talk more about in the next post.) Or that you can’t be a Democrat and a Christian because those two “positions” are diametrically opposed… most likely because of the pro-choice stance that many in the party adhere to. But, would it surprise you to know that 29% of Democrats consider themselves “pro-life”? Or that 21% of Republicans label themselves as “pro-choice”? (Click here for the stats.)

How many of you have an elevated heart rate right now? Creating the bullet points for all your arguments against what I just posted. I assure you… it’s okay. Remember, We’ve been doing this for 10 months and we know all the points and counter points. But, this isn’t about winning an argument. It’s about chasing after hearts. It’s about Jesus. For those who are chomping at the bit to say Jesus was against murder, I would respectfully remind you about his stance on hatred in our hearts being tantamount to murder at our hands. His words. Not mine. AND PLEASE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS: We’re NOT trying to change anyone’s stance on anything. All we’re suggesting is that NO MATTER your political affiliation, or your stance on the issue of abortion, how we communicate the love of Christ to those facing the choice of abortion is the most important thing we will ever do when it comes to the issue.

As Sydney likes to say, “We’re trying to save two lives here, not just one.”