"The Church is a whore...

... but she's my mother." - St. Augustine

I heard these words today while watching a video documentary called "Lord, Save us From Your Followers" by Dan Merchant and it challenged me to take some time and reflect. This blog has not been written in for over 2 years and as a result, I doubt anyone will actually be reading thing. But this is for me right now. And in the off chance that someone actually sees this, feel free to comment.

When I heard this quote I was blown away by the gravity of the accusation, but the ownership of the identification. The Church (not just my church, but your church and the church universal) is described in the Bible as being the Bride of Christ. This is a beautiful painting of what we are meant to be. Think about it for a second:

A bride, traditionally speaking, is the paragon of purity and faithfulness. Now, I've never been a bride, but I've been a groom beholding my bride's resplendence after years of waiting. I can tell you that on June 7th, 2008 (that's right, 6/7/08), the last thing that would have crossed my mind would have been Baily walking into that church on the arms of other doting men. That would have been game over and I probably wouldn't be here writing this today!

Yet, as the church, we are an adulteress, unfaithful bride. We flirt with comfort, hold hands with hatred, make out with money, and hop in the sack with trends and cultural opinion. We're more Hollywood than holy. Our focus is not on our awaiting groom, but what is pleasing in the moment with no concern for our commitment to a bride-groom who gave Himself up for us.

Calling anyone a whore is a serious accusation. We throw around words like that with flippancy. This isn't the description of someone who is in and out of relationships or even someone who is promiscuous. Calling someone a whore is implying that not only is there promiscuity, but it promiscuity to achieve personal (and often monetary) gain. Starting to make sense?

How many churches preach a gospel of greed and see multiplication in the tens of thousands as a result? How many churches sacrifice the message because it doesn't fit our preferred method? How often to we bow at the alter of self when making decisions? How often do we protect an institution and it's numbers, rather than cutting off "the hand that causes you to sin"?

"The church is a whore, but she's my mother..."

We've all heard someone in infantile retort call someone's mother a whore... and it's never a pleasant experience. There is something that wells up in anyone who has a mother or mother-figure that they love that will emphatically (and some times violently) oppose that type of remark.

The church, in all her misgivings and misguidedness, is still something that I love dearly. Even in my cynicism, even in my disenchantment, I, deep down in the core of my being, love the church that God created. The church - the body or collective of followers of Jesus Christ - is a beautiful thing. This is why I absolutely love the book of Acts. You see lives that have been impacted by Jesus that are transformed and giving purpose doing something about the needs of the people around them. There is even a chapter in there that talks about a ministry of waiting on tables! Seriously, they served food, they hung out together, they did life together - and it attracted the multitudes to this organic movement of God that exploded when His people got together to pray.

There is something very maternal about the church. The church has been instrumental in making me the man I am today. She has nurtured me, cared for me, cleaned my blood knees, and helped me walk when I could not walk on my own.

I think Augustine pegged strange a dichotemy in the church: She isn't right. She has issues. She needs help. As much as we try to solve the problem by detatching ourselves from her, the solution is a cleansing from the inside out, not the outside in. She is our mom and sometimes a mom's kids have to confront her and be the ones to help her walk when she's not strong enough.

The solution is not disassociation, it's ownership. Ownership of the good and the bad. Ownership of the problems and the solutions. It's the humility to be the one to confess not only our own sins, but the sins of the mother whom we identify with through the empowering of Christ.

Just as He has turned us from enemies to friends, He wants to transform the whore into the bride.

When Jesus Goes to Church

When Jesus steps through the doors of church on a Sunday morning, you know that something is different. There is a sense of unfathomable unpredictability in the air that is confounding and astonishing. As much as we like to have our nice, neat plans, our formulated orders of service, when Jesus goes to church, all bets are off.

Does this mean chaos? Oh, no! You see, when Jesus goes to church the things that should not make sense start to. The Word spoken melds with The Word sung and prayed in a glorious three-part harmony.

When Jesus goes to church gossip is hushed, factions are disband, and love prevails. The doorman knows that when Jesus comes to church, there are some people who might not be able to handle it and may leave because, without a word, they are confronted by their desperate need for forgiveness and that the banner of peace needs to be raised, more than the murderous whispers of "Did you hear what Pastor did?" or "Can you believe that they let HER sing this morning?"

Musicians know it when Jesus is there because they find that their fingers move across nickel-wound strings with suave familiarity or down ivory and onyx keys as if strolling down the lane to a unknown, yet familiar, beautiful place. Voices cry out with passion when Jesus is in church because they know that beyond "just a pretty sound," the thing that sounds better to Him is honest worship: worship in spirit and in truth.

Preachers have one of two responses when Jesus goes to church: they are either offended at the prospect of their words not being heard or they are overjoyed that The Word, Himself, is there and the preacher takes his seat to allow Jesus to speak. The former preacher will sweat through his pride and allow his own personal agenda shine through. The latter will preach with empowerment, with no fear, with holy boldness, speaking life-changing truth, because when Jesus goes to church, the words spoken by this preacher will stir the hardened hearts of the self-made righteous man reminding him that the grace of the church's honored guest is the key to righteousness, not their stuffy religiosity.

In a prayer time when Jesus goes to church, there are no well-crafted prayers, imbued with "thees" and "thous," but honest dependance on the One whom they are directed to. In this moment, prayer becomes not a ritual of religious action, but communication with a dear friend who knows what it's like to walk through this life. When Jesus goes to church, the suits and ties leave no impressions, but the simple prayers of childlike faith shake to very foundations of hell.

When Jesus steps through the doors of church, the sign out front does not read any quick-witted, cutesy Christianese, but says: "With honor and without judgment, we welcome sinners. Welcome homosexuals. Welcome crack-whores. Welcome welcome drunks. Welcome dirty money millionaires. Welcome poor, abused, broken, and damaged. From today onward, you can leave behind your stigmas be called sons and daughters of the King. Come to Me and go, sin no more."

It's undeniable when Jesus goes to church because no one else could walk into a room and do what He does. In His midst, the emotionally crippled learn to feel again, the spiritually blind have their eyes opened and can see His majesty, and the deaf... oh, the deaf can hear the faint whisper of Love Incarnate breathing their name, beckoning to hear His words. When Jesus goes to church, He, on occasion, will do that for the physically lame, blind, and deaf too.

When Jesus goes to church, people know it. Why? Because you never quite leave the same after encountering a guy like Him. Whether you see Him or not, you know He was there. How can you tell? Burly, emotionless, mens-men will be broken in tears with arms raised in worship. Righteous, seasoned Christians will be calling out for forgiveness because God has searched them and knows their innermost being and it just doesn't match what's on the outside - in His presence, they feel the ruin of being found out. Knees bow and mouths confess when Jesus goes to church...

Wouldn't it be great if Jesus came to church every Sunday?

Tiny Tornadoes, Midday Drumming, and Unexpected House Calls:

I’m not gunna lie, I am completely oblivious to my surroundings. I feel like I am terribly disconnected from the outside world with no sweet clue what is going on and where! No joke, we could be having a severe hurricane here and I probably wouldn’t be the wiser.

Something needs to be done about that.

Today evidenced a little bit of my obliviousness in that there are apparently severe thunderstorm and tornado warnings for Alabama. Hmm.. Funny. I had NO idea! Of course, though, I can’t find this out from the shelter of my home, I have to actually go OUT in this weather. I’m not too sure how to remedy this one with ease.

Me, being the idiot that I am, decides that despite the tornado warnings, I am going to walk to the post office. It’s not that far away, really. As I am walking there, I hear some very loud.... and very good drumming. Mmmmm.... live drums.... tastes like rock.

As I walked by, I got this thought in my head.... “Maybe you should stop and introduce yourself, Damien.” “Oh, that’d be too weird,” I thought. But as I picked up the mail I figured, “Eh, what’s the worst that could happen?”

So, I begin my walk back with leaves spiraling across the road in from of me. I approach the door and knock. No answer. Still drums, but no answer. I knock again. This time I hear a voice yelling “Would you cut that out for a second!” Promptly following, the door cracks open to an older, middle aged woman. I fumblingly introduce myself and tell her that I just wanted to stop and see who was drumming. The door closed and moments later, her son came out with bleached, just-woke-up, longer hair and pierced lip.

Rollin was his name and new to the area he too was. As we talked, I told him that I was a pastor and liked to play some punk and ska on guitar along with other genres of music. He asked if I’d want to get together and jam out some time. Of course I would. He gave one request, that I wouldn’t force Jesus on him.

It’s funny to think about that request. How many times in our fervor to evangelize do we try to superimpose Jesus onto people, like by some formulaic discovery, we can imbue people with the Holy Spirit and “making” them Christians. Will I have the responsibility of sharing Christ with Rollin? Absolutely. But he is the one who has to see that it’s something that he wants.

So, in my stupidity of walking outside when I could have been struck by lightning or sucked up into a tornado, I found someone who needed to encounter Jesus.

Hurray of being oblivious.

An Aimless Post:

It is 11 pm on the evening following a very huge step in pastordom: leading your first service... ever. In all honest, I have no sweet clue why I am awake. My body is screaming at me to go lay down, but my brain is not putting that to action.

I do some of my best and worst thinking during these times.... Jack Handy once said that right before a mad scientist goes made, he is only partially mad... and these are the times when he is going to throw the best parties. I have no intention of throwing any parties... but I still will think. Don't ask me why... it might be too much thought to figure it all out.

Days like today are filled with mixes of emotions, both highs and lows. I kid you not, I feel like every time I finish preaching, I will go through a period of adrenaline and moments later, I am completely drained. At this point, I am at the "I've pretty much given everything that I could mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually..." stage.

I think this is why withdrew from the crowd after He did ministry. (Disclaimer: I am totally saying that I'm Jesus here!) I think He was onto something good. With that in mind... I'm glad that Monday is my Sunday.

I plan to rest.... maybe I'll take His lead and withdraw to a quite place....

Like the beach.

An Honestly Embittered Post:

The gloves are off. The facade torn down. This is honesty. Raw honesty. This is proof that I am human. Cut me and I bleed. Hold me underwater and I drown.

It is the second year in a row that I had thought that I had dodged all of the well-wishers, wishy-washers, and gushers on yet another Valentine's Day massacre, when the terrible realization dawned on me that today, in fact, was not Valentine's Day.

Today even had the perfect set up for the day to the dreaded day: I awoke to thunder and lightning along with tornado warnings. It seemed like something had torn the sky and it poured out it's contents on the earth below. For some strange reason, it was comforting. Maybe it was the hope that rain brings... or maybe it was my amplified negativity toward the day intepretting this as an amusing joke: the sky was cry for something that I cannot find the tears for.

Call me the Grinch of V-day, if you will, I have some very valid reasons why I refuse to even recognize that it exists.

I will reitterate this idea every year... be V-day a holiday of friendship or romanticism, here is a novel idea: why not treat everyone with dignity, respected, and cherish them every day? Guys, it makes me sick how all year long, you can take for granted what you has in your life and automatically redeem yourself (or buy-off) you girl.

And so the same goes the other way around too.

Girls, you are not exempt from this either. You fuel the fires by allowing yourselves duped into it OR worse playing into it like it's a game. The attention must be nice, so must the feeling of beating guys away with sticks.

(Which leads me now to indite myself. Damien, shame on you for being so critical of others and how they chose to celebrate. In your search for vindication, you have become no better.)

When I look at what true love is supposed to be like, nothing about this day reminds me of it. I see commercialism and material expectations. Sure, if must be nice to be showered with affection, but in the long run, the enamel stretches thin and the true nature is revealed: shallowness, selfish motives, etc. I could go on forever with the bitter list.

I'm really not a hateful person, I just never have liked the day and I probably never will. I'm just tired of it already. Too much pressure. Too many reminders. I will seemingly always have bad days around this time of year. This has never been a holiday of love or friendship to me. This has always been a reminder of loss.

It's funny, just today, I was reading in Ezekiel where God offers this crazy image to Ezekiel of Israel being a beautiful young woman who He did everything for. In the long run, she ended up running off on Him... insatiably searching for more and better. Yet even in His fierce anger, God still remembered the promises that He had made her, refraining from making her drink the wrath which she herself has funished.

I know how that wrath feels and it's not pretty. I know what it is to experience infidelity... I am not an easily angered person, but I have no stomach or tolerance for it. In the measure of patience that God has given me, I have no patience deception.

So what is true love? True love is that we don't get what we have coming to us. True love is patient endurance beyond what I in myself am capable of. True love has nothing to do with this day and just like that, I want nothing to do with it either.

"I'm not sure if you know this..."

"But, I am a pastor, by profession," I said with my pinky finger holding down the grave key in the upper lefthand corner of the keyboard. "I work with teenagers in a church," I continued through a tawny microphone which was attached to my ear, along with a set of headphones all while pressing different combinations of W,A,S,D,3, Right, Left, and Center mouse buttons.

As voice returned, rough, but confirming.

"Yes, I did happen to know that," returned the voice of a man I only know as Darkfire. "I did know that and I must tell you, that I think that is VERY F@$%ing cool. Kids need someone who cares about them."

Another voice chimed in, a female one. It was the familiar voice of LifeLyne this time: "Yes, Tomax is very f@$%ing cool..."

We continued to talk about the story I am about to share. When God has done something good... especially when He has done something good in and through other people, how can we not talk about it... even if it seems like foolishness to those who do not know God?

Let me start off by issuing a sad stereotype:

(please keep in mind that this is a VAST generalization)

Youth ministry is the back burner ministry of most churches. The only reason a youth ministry exists is because the children's ministry program is sick of them and the adults don't want them. The average youth ministry meeting is held in a bottom floor, back corner room of the church that is only unused because nobody else wants it. The average youth ministry is good enough for the 2nd/3rd best of everything.

The youth pastor is viewed as the slacker young adult who doesn't want to grow up, but stagnates in immaturity by mingling with his former peers. He is irresponsible, untimely, forgetful, messy, and untrustworthy. According to most members of the congregation, he is not a "real" pastor, yet he is patronized by being told that he might one day make a good one. He believes that the senior pastor is only there to trump his "brilliant" ideas, like a raw spam eating contest, followed promptly by "The Milk Challenge." He will only stay at a church, at maximum, for 18 months.... yet his head and heart are on a 1 year contract.

I do not say this to sound like a hero, but these are the generalizations which I have been preparing myself to deal with throughout my entire college career.

What has clearly blown me away is that I have had just about the exact opposite experience here. Yesterday was a day that has solidified my opinion of the senior pastor that God has blessed me with:

Last night (Friday night), I have planned a big night of games for the youth group. This was going to be a big night of random entertainment... super laid back, video games, board games, table top games. I had even been able to pick up a Nintendo Wii for the event!

As I prepared the room, I took notice that the television that were in the youth facilities. Keep in mind, I have an amazing youth room(s) (Yes, there are more than one of them in the area which encompasses the entirety of our room). The picture tubes in the tvs were all burnt out from overuse. It was almost like someone had put the menu up and left them on for days at a time. On my way out to the high school for lunch (I make a weekly visit to have lunch with my teens and their friends once a week), I had mentioned to Angie, the church secretary AND Pastor Brad's wife, that I needed to find some other TVs around the church to use for that night.

Lunch at the school was amazing. I stayed for 2 of the lunch waves and had lunch with several kids that I have not met before, but they were cool enough to invite me over to sit with them and get to know them. During that time, I had a conversation with a kid who wanted to go into the youth ministry too! It was such a good time!

On my way back, I received what could have sounded like an irritated phone call, but because of the nature of our relationship, I knew he was joking. "Where on EARTH are you?!" came the familiar voice of Pastor Brad. At this point, I had been sitting in the parking lot of Office Depot trying to down the final pieces of my 8-piece Chick-fil-a nugget meal while soaking in the 70 degree February sun. "When you're done with your errands, I needs some help moving things at the church." No biggie.

Upon arrival, Brad meets me at the door and says, "You're not gunna be happy with me..." he said with a forced serious face. Doubt filled my mind as I am trying to preemptively prepare myself for what was around the corner. I follow him into the youth facilities, which are attached to our offices, and I see two... brand new, 20-inch flat screen TVs (not flat panel, mind you)!

"Where did these come from!?" I say with jaw lowered.

"Angie and I picked them up today." The grin cracked through his facade... but then he continues... "Well, you're going to hate me for this... but I bought something. Now if you can't use it, we can take it back, but if you think you can find a use for it, it's yours."

At this point, I'm trying to conjure a possible imagination as to what he's talking about, but nothing could have prepared me for this. He pulls out a Sony Playstation 3, a second controller, and a game. My jaw went from hanging in the breeze to picking up dust and dirt from the floor.

As I started to fumble through a sentence of gratitude, he interrupts me and says, "These are our donation to the youth ministry. I know that people might see this as a waste of money, but I see it like this: You need the right tools to attract people in here. Let's face it, kids aren't going to just come in here to hear a good sermon... you need a way to keep them coming back so that relationships can happen and lives can be changed... and if people have a problem with this, they can take it up with me. There are many hills that I am not willing to die on, but this is one... I will be behind you 100% in you truly believe that you are doing the right thing and I have faith in you that you will."

You can only imagine how I must feel about this. Sure, it is amazing that I have 2 brand, spankin' new TVs AND access to all 3 next-generation gaming systems, but the real joy is this:

God has placed me in a position working along side of (not under) someone who has a true, genuine grasp on what ministry takes and is willing to not just verbally support, but all-out support what I am doing, believing that Christ will work through me and through this place. He has no delusions as to what it will take and he's enabling me to do so.

"Let me tell you, Tomax, " Darkfire continued. "You have no f@$%ing idea how much I wish I had that growing up... I think it's so cool that you're giving them something to do. The WORST thing that you can do to a kid is put time in his hands. I know from experience, that's when I got into the deepest $#(^... keep doing what you're doin', man..."

Yes, I could have done without filling in the words that Dark chose to use, but I use them to emphasize this point along with my gratefulness in the other:

Ministry doesn't just happen Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights. It is our responsibility to take every moment, every chance to minister to people in seemingly unconventional ways. The church does still work, but we must be creative in our ways to get people curious as to what happens there. Even Jesus, before he told the disciples anything about who He was, simply said "Follow me and you'll get the picture..."

Though people like Darkfire and LifeLyne only know me as Tomax, a pastor who plays World of Warcraft and brother of a fellow guildie, though teens may see me as Pastor Damien on game nights, or the kids of Foley High School wondering who the spikey-headed guy standing off to the side of the lunch room on Tuesdays is... I pray that they all see Christ through me.

The Empty Chair:

I know we’ve all heard the analogies in youth groups and camps and from special speakers involving chairs, but my thoughts and insights tonight had nothing to do with any of them that I’ve heard before.

As some of you know, I am a pastor. Not just a pastor, but a youth pastor... and brand to it at that. There are several things about it that, I must admit, scare me to death. It is a crazy responsibility that I have ahead of me.

At the church I am at, there is no established meeting. It has been my task to try to formulate a beginning of the next era of ministry in this church. There are a lot of big questions that has circled around this... most of which, I have asked God about in conjunction with that words: Please don’t let me screw this up.

My plan has been now great best-selling book, church fad plan. It has simply been this: pray. I know that anything out of Christ is this thing would merely make it “The Damien Show” - which is the LAST thing I want!

So tonight was my first official event and a youth ministry: prayer. Not just prayer, but church wide prayer. I had invited the congregation to join me in prayer for the future of the youth ministry. Unfortunately, the only ones who showed up were two of the pastor’s sons... however, I did not realize what I would see tonight.

As I set up the youth room, setting different themes of prayer in different, strategic place, I saw a lone chair sitting in the center of the room, faced toward the room - back turned toward the platform.

This chair represented to me all of the teens which would come through the doors. As we prayed for the teens that would come to this youth group, I saw vividly in the chair a punk kid with his metal wallet chains, spiky hair, tattoos, and piercings. I saw the disdain for society, the anger of rejection and desire for acceptance as he was... no strings attached, no disclaimers, just love.

His likeness changed to that of a hardened, arms folded skeptic. His posture and the jeer on his face gave a challenge to be proven wrong.... a challenge to know Christ in reality, not just ideals. He didn’t want to be fed feel-good stories, he wanted the cold, hard facts.

Just as the figure had changed before, it changed one more time to a girl: she seemed to have to world on a platter. She had friends, toys, boys, looks, grades, and shades... she was everyone’s American baby, but I say the enamel smile fade to panic. “What if they saw who I REALLY am?” she thought - “What if they knew about the years of eating disorders which masked my need for control which I MUST have to hide from years of being out of control of the sexual abuse? Who could ever love me? I’m beyond hope.”

I saw them all and they broke my heart. These are the young guys and girls whom that chair represented tonight. I cried for them, but I rejoiced in my tears because I know that the same Jesus who called tax-collectors, fishermen, sinners, and prostitutes to “come and see...follow... and go out and do” also calls the punks, the skeptics, the used, and the unlovable to do the same.

Tonight, I caught a glimpse of what God is up to. I don’t know if I would call it a vision or a teaching moment, but whatever the case is. There is a reality of what happens when, in the words of David Crowder, our depravity and His divinity collide: lives transformed but the undeniable work of Jesus Christ.

It should not be surprising He would use something a simple as an empty chair.