It’s been several months since my last post. Margo (my wife) relapsed with TTP May 7th. We hoped this disease was behind us. Margo had two hospital stays and daily visits to the cancer center (4-5 hours a piece) in Chicago from May 7 until July 1, when moved from to Lamoni, IA. Her treatment initially transferred to Des Moines, then to Decatur County where we now live. The transition, itself, holds a wonderful testimony.
Remarkably, Margo found a doctor in southern rural Iowa who has been treating TTP since 1974. Chance or not, this is some kind of miracle. Statistically, TTP cases are 3-4 per million people per year. That means all of Iowa should have only 9-12 cases of TTP annually. The odds that a doctor with thirty (30) years of experience with this disease would come to Decatur County (pop. 8500), where we live, two days a week is a blessing no one could plan. Margo feels she is in great care, and we feel as if we are meant to be here.
The transition from Chicago to Graceland University and Campus Ministries has been an adventure. Many things are as I anticipated. The campus is incredibly busy. There are several questions that hang over my new position: Is Graceland a Christian institution? What does it meant that it was established as “non-sectarian?” How does Graceland’s 100+ year relationship with Community of Christ shape the university and my responsibilities? Would there be a “Graceland experience” without the church’s faith and historical influence? These are fascinating and important questions that deserve time and good answers.
Graceland is a liberal arts school with freedom of academic inquiry, dedicated faculty, and a palpable sense of community. The majority of students, over forty percent (40%), identify as Community of Christ at Graceland. So do many faculty. However, Graceland also has a significant Catholic student population, as well as other Protestants, non-denominationals, Mormons, Restorationists, and many others who do not identify or prefer not to be identified with a particular faith. Graceland also has about 12% International students, who identify with other faiths, including Jewish and Muslim.
With Graceland’s unique heritage and diverse environment, what does it mean to do campus ministry here? Whom do I serve? What should be my mission and goals?
Popular thinking about identity lays traps to avoid in answering these kind of questions. America’s politics and religious tribalism could easily run these questions aground. Starting from a defensive position, some feel that a diverse campus like Graceland’s would put its history with Community of Christ and its identity under threat. Of course, the opposite is likely more true.
We learn more about our faith, our history, who we are, what we practice and what we confess, by interacting with others different than ourselves. This is true across ecumenical differences and interfaith groups. It’s equally true with the diverse perspectives in any church community. Intentional interaction and a disposition for learning actually strengthens self-hood, faith and conviction. Moreover, the Community of Christ is a world-wide church with members of diverse cultural backgrounds across many nations. It is important to think of Graceland as a microcosm of what a global people really experiences, interacting with diverse people everyday.
Alot more can and should be said about these question. At this point, I only want to name them and touch on how to approach good and faithful answers. If you want to read more about my view of Graceland’s relationship to the Community of Christ, see my page Graceland and Community of Christ Share a Mission.
Back to campus. :)
If we look deep into the fabric of our world, we could go back to the Enlightenment for an answer. That was the period centuries ago in which the measure of truth in our Western world became fundamentally different. The Enlightenment was a turning point in the scientific revolution. It marked a seismic shift in the authority of religious truth. Today’s politics of truth are shaped by this shift, especially the politics between religion and science. The Enlightenment opened the door to the idea that each mind, equipped with the power of observation and reason, could question and apprehend the truth and reality. Truth, in this way, became distinct from its foundation in the church, revelation, theologians, and traditional authorities. The politics of truth between religion and science shape how religion and religious people are perceived today. It shapes our stereotypes about religious fanatics and their fanaticism. But, this doesn’t provide the whole answer.
This is the reach of individualism. After the Babyboom, personal testimonies, if they are more than personal stories, are subject to politics, i.e. the politics of religion and individual authority. Individualism assumes religious testimonies and convictions belong to personal experience. The truth of our faith and testimonies raise the question of “who’s truth?” The politics of individualism are inherently defensive. Religious passion and conviction elicit this cultural clash between religious authority and personal experience or opinion. To guard ourselves against outside authority – whether other individuals, society, religion, traditions, institutions, or government – individualism tells us that personal experience and perspective shape reality. The politics of individualism puts tension between us and others because others are external authorities. They are part of the world outside. Such individualism and its defensive politics muck up almost all possibility for any open exchange or trusting environment for people to talk about their life-changing experiences, faith, love of church, even God. Being positive is good; too much religion is bad.
Shopping at the store, I overheard another young woman near crying to a store associate. She was a young mother. All I heard of the conversation was this as I passed by filling our cart: ”…and the churches kept saying that they would only help out their own members. I have three kids. What am I supposed to do?…” I immediately felt convicted by her words. I am a full-time minister. I was helping friends that were members of my church. Even though they had not attended for a while, the situation they were in was not – and is never – the time to talk about how often they had been attending. I had a relationship with them. I care for them. It had been years since we saw each other, but we shared a heartfelt connection. But, what about this women at the store? I thought about the verse in Luke:
I get the arguments. I’ve been a church administrator. Church’s could not help anyone if they practiced no discretion in offering financial help. But, can we justify restricting generosity to our own membership? What do church’s say about Christ, Christ’s message, and God’s mission when they only support their own? I think this is the deepest betrayal of the gospel, and I think Luke’s gospel supports that way of thinking.
In the end, for churches, the question of helping others in material ways comes down to a simple matter of Christian identity and mission. What are churches, really? Why do Christians comes together in “churches”? For themselves? What is their gospel and who is the good news of the gospel really for? Matthew’s depiction of Jesus’ judgment of the nations in chapter 25 should not be read as a scriptural scare-tactic for church folk, as much as a humble moment of clarity. When churches reach out to those in need, the good news of the gospel come to both.
Identifying the decisive identity issues in the North American Community of Christ today is, itself, a difficult task. But, I think its essential if the North American church is going to understand and fully embrace the transformation of the RLDS to global Community of Christ identity. By limiting the scope of our perspective to a North American perspective, it helps provide some focus on the problems we face finding unity (let alone consensus) around theological and ethical issues that involve basic identity questions. Some of the identity issues we struggle with emerge directly from within our North American post-RLDS context.
The second thing that becomes apparent is that RLDSism is defined by its inability to transcend its particular position within Mormon history. I’m convinced that the reason the RLDS church is undergoing its transformation toward a new identity as Community of Christ is because RLDSism’s position between Utah Mormonism, on one hand, and American Protestantism, on the other, has reached its limits. The liberalism that clearly sets the RLDS church apart from its Mormon cousins pushes RLDSism away from its historical sectarianism. For the RLDS, this liberalism is expressed and felt in the RLDS emphasis on individual spirituality and internal dissent from spiritual authority, which makes the RLDS more Protestant than Mormon. This is what has made critical scholarship (theological and historical), theological evolution, critique of authoritarian leadership, and critique of the authority of tradition possible. Those who who reject this liberalism adhere to RLDSism’s sectarian strands, which continues to unfold in conservative RLDSism. In the Community of Christ, however, the historical tendency toward sectarian belief and identity (i.e. the righteous remnant) is overcome by the universalizing logic embedded deep within liberal Christianity, as well as in biblical Christianity through Paul. The theological significance of this inclusive and universal vision for Christ and Christ’s Kingdom has moved late RLDSism, its sense of community, and mission toward a more universal and inclusive center of identity. Against the negativity of a RLDS sectarian identity structure, the Community of Christ finds its mission, message, and future in the person and work of Jesus Christ. In this way, the church is becoming “more Protestant,” but only because the roots of the Restoration movement are in the universalizing vision of biblical theology and American Christianity, which shares in the universal spirit of modern Protestantism. In this sense, the Community of Christ is not a break with RLDSism, only RLDS sectarianism and its negatively-structured identity. It is, in fact, historically the fulfillment (cf. D&C 164:9a) of its essentially Christian Restoration vision and heritage in American Christianity.
The problem that haunts the Community of Christ internally, however, is the ghost of its negative identity. Historically, the negative relationship of RLDSism to both Mormonism and American Protestantism is what structured RLDS sectarianism with a cherished sense of community and essentially negative identity. The Community of Christ’s sense of community cannot be separated from its lived historical experience as a marginalized movement negatively positioned in obscurity between Mormonism and American Protestant Christianity. The challenge, therefore, is to shape the negative aspect of this marginalized experience of community in a positive identity position. I believe, consciously or not, this process has already been taking place in the church for a few decades. As we face the future, however, I want to suggest a few places where, I hope, the positivity of RLDS identity can emerge with both historical and theological integrity.
individual statements or offer alternative perspectives. The restraint on debate to two minutes per person and slow speech required for translations within those two minutes also make it difficult to express or explain ideas. I understand why these constraints are in place and would not want to endure meetings in which these time limits were lifted or non-English speakers were excluded. So, perhaps blogging is a more removed but alternative way to speak on some of the issues expressed in quorum meetings and on the conference floor. Perhaps my thoughts can offer a broader or alternative understanding for church members to choose from or prayerfully consider with their own.
Some voices have expressed how previous scriptures on baptism, either D&C 20′s treatment of the question of rebaptism or general lack of scriptural support for any other authoritative form of baptism other than immersion, are reason to vote down or doubt the document’s divine counsel. In both cases, prescriptive scriptures about the practice of baptism are being used as if they are the proper or only scriptures to use for comparison or to test continuity. Some have also said that the current question being asked about rebaptism is the same one answered by D&C 20, as if the context is no different. While I think these are tenable comparisons to make and important for consideration, D&C 20 and other scriptural prescriptions for the mode or proper form of baptism are not the most important scriptures in which to look for precedents or comparative references. These kind of references are important only for a literalistic or legalistic view of scripture. Such an approach forgets or relegates other forms of scripture as less important or irrelevant for consideration. It is easy to forget scripture is much more than theologically prescriptive or ritual instruction (like Leviticus). Scripture also expresses divine revelation in the form of proverb, poem, narrative (like the Gospels), parable, and analogy – which are arguably more indirect forms of revelation that require nuanced and more responsible interpretation. The change in the practice of baptism prescribed by the inspired counsel provides just the opportunity to explore how there are previous precedents for just the kind of change in baptismal practice we are facing today.
Like baptism in the early Restoration church, circumcision was a peculiar sign of select membership for Israel. It was a sign that conferred Israel’s special place with God. It signed Israel’s election. The sign of circumcision marked Jews as a peculiar people shaped in an exclusive covenant between God and them in the same way baptism in the early Restoration church marked a special and unique relationship between God and the Restoration. It was a sign of the return of the full Gospel and its authority in the world. When Paul crossed cultural boundaries and went forth among the Gentiles making disciples of Christ, he did not requiring this sign. This created a fundamental tension with the Jerusalem church, which was shaped by centuries of practicing circumcision. In the end, the Jerusalem church reasoned that it “seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us to impose no further burden” (Acts 15:28). The exclusive sign of election gave way to a more relevant prescription for what it meant to be a disciple of Christ in other cultures. Viewing the inspired counsel this way, it does not come out of the blue but follows one of the most important and decisive scriptural precedents in the New Testament. It follows a period in the life of the earliest Christian church, which the Restoration looks to for its example and modern-day expression.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve been tackling problems that don’t revolve around ethereal stuff like “new ideas,” “vision” and other theological talk that can lack consequence. In fact, I’ve been so sucked into these challenges that I’ve begun to wonder whether discussing the church’s problems or their solutions really matters if the people in the discussion aren’t somehow personally and materially invested. They, somehow, need to be givers or prepared to become givers to what we share. A giver gives so much more than money. But, they give money, too. They give to something beyond themselves.
We struggle on both sides. In the church, we have many congregations that are deeply attached to their houses of worship. 75-90% of the time, those churches are paid for. These buildings are the ebenesers, the alters, of a previous generation. They are the hallmark of our denominationalism. We are no longer a frontier movement. We now have our church on the corner. This was the success of previous generations. Because of them, I would bet 75-90% of our congregations have no mortgage, only maintenance and monthly bills. Five to fifty gather in them once a week.
Outside the church, we also live in a day when the relationship between spirituality and economics is wholly out of whack. Unbriddled greed and a world sold out to the god of wealth and wealth-production, has horribly contorted the relationship of our economic and spiritual needs. All around, I see its effects in “liberal” and conservative forms. Many Christians have literally sold out the doctrine of economic wealth and prosperity: we can spend ourselves out of crises, whether spiritual or economic. This not only makes absolutely no sense, wealth and prosperity – no matter how American – are false gods. They are not the good news, but a completely alien form of religion and spirituality. Christian faith and the call to prophetic community operates on a different kind of sense. Christ’s community is not based on getting what you pay for. Nor, is its growth based on profits or consuming more. The salvation of the church, on earth as it is in heaven, is based on what is given and what is shared: the shared grace, disciplines, practices, vision, and shared convictions. The church is a witness to community.
become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 35 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. 36 For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? 37 Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?
Just because we know the end of the story, this does not mean we fully understand what Jesus was trying to say to the disciples and the crowd that day. Even if we feel like we understand the meaning of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, it doesn’t mean we fully know what Jesus was trying to say to us in those words today. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the famous Christian theologian and resistor of Nazi Germany, stated it so dramatically clear: “When Jesus calls us, he bids us come and die.” (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Cost of Discipleship)
To be Jesus’ disciple, Jesus only asked that we leave what we know behind and offer our new lives to him. This doesn’t take certainty or self-assurance. It takes faith.
