A Sidelined Faith?

by the Rev. Dr. Joy Blaylock
St. Paul's Lutheran Church
Mobile, AL

I had a churchmember hand me an article from Time magazine recently entitled "The Rise of the Nones."  It was basically another article about the "spiritual but not religious" crowd and the person who shared it wrote simply at the bottom, "I'd like your thoughts on this."

Realizing that this person has a child now in their twenties, I could imagine the source and motivation of her inquiry.  And, I'm guessing she will be somewhat surprised to find that I have no defense arguments about the reality of brokenness in institutions, particularly those that are "religious."  I've read many of the books by the "emergent church" authors and find that I agree with most of their indictments.  I think the return to small groups, churches with less organized bureaucracy, and "mission interpretation" efforts is a no-brainer for faith communities. 

After all, my first call as a pastor is to a congregation that has gone through some tumultuous times; and, it was tempting to leave on many occasions.  But, I kept coming back to a people that I loved, who challenged me and honored me with their trust and their hurts. And, I believed in those hard times that we all needed to support each other in our journey beyond the pain and systemic failures.

That, for me, is the essence of why we gather:  to support one another, struggle with one another, and to be addressed individually and collectively by the Word of God.  The Bible was never meant to be a personal devotion book, but a sacred text that is interpreted in and with the community. And, in engaging this text week after week, we grow together, are convicted together, and reach out to hold one another up during the difficult times.

Like the "spiritual but not religious" protestors, I confess that I could easily, given my introverted proclivity, take off to Walden Pond and find God in nature.  But, I am called and challenged to live in community and to partake in the brokenness and redemption of that particular group of people.  And, most days I treasure that reality, I need that reality.  It is a constant call away from navel gazing to become other-oriented in word and deed. It is a reality check that I cannot muster by clicking "Like" on Facebook or sharing sound-bite updates.

However, I will admit to sharing in some frustration with people who use the “spiritual but not religious” as code for “I find religion boring and irrelevant, or a stumbling-block to my pursuit of self-interest.” There have been many good articles in the last year that decry this basic attitude.  Without delving into a review of these responses, I think it is fair to assume that most of us engaged in the religious enterprise feel some call to defend it, to justify our weekly pursuits and actions, to at least wrestle with the indictments of the surrounding culture.

Therefore, as a professor of theology, one who has made a career out of the life of the mind, and whose cultural, political, social, and theological leanings are all oriented around the ideals of selflessness and generosity, I can decry such an individualistic approach to spirituality that seems immature in many respects.  Yet, if I am honest, it is the “spiritual but not religious” crowd who are my bread and butter as a professor; the reality of brokenness and disappointment with religion is the very thing that drives many people into my classes. For better or worse, it is often the conventionally religious students who seem smugly satisfied with shallow understandings of their faith traditions. Meanwhile, some of the "spiritual students" are those who work the hardest to figure out what they can believe in while still maintaining a sense of personal integrity and ethical behavior.

Thus, if I step back and think more carefully, as a pastor and professor, I see that it’s not entirely fair to stereotype these folks as self-centered or too selfish for big-box religion.  Likewise, it is not fair to characterize all self-identified religious people as somehow brave, mystical humanitarians. That leaves me with no clear answers to the shifting tides of a post-modern world.  Likewise, I have no sound rebuttal to Bishop Will Willimon's recent prediction that "mainline [denominations] will be sidelined."

Willimon's prediction sounds like the familiar warning of one of my seminary professors: "the era of the big box church is coming to an end."  That may indeed be the case, and if so, I'm fine with that.  I became a pastor to meet people in their vulnerability and brokenness and I can do that anywhere.  The essence of my ministry comes in delighting in God and the liberation proclaimed in Psalm 40:2 "He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure."

I do believe heartily, however, that something happens when "two or three are gathered in Christ's name."  I still believe, perhaps naively, in all the promises made in God's Word to all those who love God and dare to follow the simple injunction: Thy Will be done.  Thus, I will continue to invite those who are disgusted or disenfranchised to dialogue and maybe even to membership in our community if they desire. 

No, we don't have a fancy cappuccino bar, no projectors or electrical instruments, really no flash at all.  But, we do have an earnest group of people who come together to love God and love their neighbor.  We have many who will meet you in the miry bog and stay with you until you are ready to come out.  And, we worship a God who is much bigger than any bog, box, cathedral, basilica, or organization.  In that I take comfort and find my steps to be secure.  The rest, perhaps, is adiaphora, things that don’t really matter: only time will tell.