.wrestling with 'Christianity'.

Last month I presented a paper I wrote in my Feminism and Christianity class called "Feminism and Christianity: Christ as Feminist Leader, the Church as Socio-political Movement."  During our panel, it was great being back in this conversation again with fellow Christians and non-believers alike. In a couple more weeks I will present the same paper at Cornerstone University's philosophy conference ("Thinking Christianity in the Present Tense: The Politics of Discipleship") in Grand Rapids, Michigan, thanks to my friend, Lindsey, who shared with me the 'call for papers.' Once again, I'll be back in conversation with others about what it means to be a Christian in today's society.

I've had the following blog post drafted for a while, but I've not felt comfortable about posting it (I'm not sure why, it's merely my frustrations and reflections on Christianity.  They're ongoing and ever-changing, so I suppose that's why I hesitate to share).  Again, Lindsey helped give me the courage to share my thoughts after posting a similar discussion on her blog.  So here goes...

'The Church' by Diane E. Fairfield
Source: civa-artists.ning.com

I have to admit, I grow more and more frustrated with 'modern American Christianity,' the one that's used as a political weapon to oppress people, control bodies, and win votes. A friend and fellow grad student has even considered the idea of no longer calling herself a 'Christian' because of the negative connotations that come along with it.  'Follower of Christ' might be a more apt 'label.'

I begin this post by saying that I do not study theology like my husband or the many people he goes to school with, so what follows might feel more like an awkward dance than a graceful ballet.  Nevertheless, I've been wanting to write about this topic for a while, so I've got to start somewhere, right?

I grew up Southern Baptist which meant I was raised to fear going to hell; descriptions of it were preached from the wooden pulpit many Sundays, selected readings from the book of Revelations.  I was urged that 'if you'll just repeat this simple prayer after me, your name will be written in The Book of Life and you'll receive the Kingdom of Heaven when you die.' Pretty simple and individualistic, right?  Repeat these words, believe them, and you'll be granted everlasting life.

I'm reminded of the childhood fears of hell when I see bumper stickers like the one we saw yesterday: "If you drop dead today will you go to heaven or hell?"  I'm always left wondering whether that's the first question this Christian would ask when 'ministering' or 'witnessing' to non-believers; I shudder at the prospective answer and wonder whether the simple smiley-face "Jesus Loves You" might have been a better sticker choice...to each his own, I suppose.

Having since moved away from the Southern Baptist tradition and attended Presbyterian and Episcopal churches in both the southwest Virginia area and our present home, southern Ohio, I've learned an equally 'scary' concept of being a Christian.  It's written in Matthew 25 (an excerpt rarely discussed in my childhood Southern Baptist church community); you can read the full excerpt here, but I'll give you the summary from Matt 25:40: "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."  Gone away is the comforting 'simple prayer' of the individualist Christian making his straight path to heaven, and introduced is this communal notion that our path is paved by believing in the salvation of Christ and 'doing for the least of these brother and sisters.'  



Christian establishments (churches) that emphasize the 'hell, fire, brimstone' rather than the 'daily walk' -  might think they have others beat when it comes to making the congregation shake in their boots, but I'm afraid to say this one keeps me on my toes in a much more physical sense than the former.  But I have to say that I'm much more eager to be working toward this goal than the other.  As a child I was fearful of being 'Left Behind' even after having prayed the 'simple prayer' and being baptized in the small pool above the alter (possibly because the preacher asserted that sometimes "the first time didn't take").  I believed in Jesus, tried to obey my parents, and continued living my childlike understanding of Christianity the best I could. Now I understand these small fears might have been a reminder that Christianity is not like a passport we get stamped and 'we're good to go.'  We need to continually remind ourselves that we are called, by Jesus himself, to do for the 'least of these,' sharing the love of Christ with others.


I realize I'm not saying anything new or revelatory here.  In fact, it reminds me of a friend's sermon I had the pleasure of listening to the other day (you can read it here).  She started her sermon with the story of a preacher who preached the same lesson on the Gospel every Sunday.  Sunday after Sunday he gave that same sermon on the Gospel, until one day someone in the congregation asked him why he gave the same sermon week after week?  Why didn't he try teaching something else?  The preacher replied, "Because week after week you leave and go out in the world and forget it.  I'm hoping if I preach it long enough, it'll stick."

I am challenged by Matt 25 on a daily basis, perhaps one reason why I've been wanting to write about it.  Belief in Jesus is only the first step in becoming and living life as a Christian.  As Christians we should be encouragers of our faith, standing up for one another when we/others are oppressed or bullied for our/their beliefs.  Otherwise, we become the negative examples people point to when they can't understand why Christians are any different than anyone else.

I was reminded of this tonight as I was driving home listening to a song by Brooke Frasier called "Hosea's Wife."  They're powerful lyrics, especially the chorus: We are Hosea's Wife/ we are squandering this life/ Using people like ladders and words like knives/ If we've eyes to see/ If we've ears to hear/ To find it in our hearts and mouths/ The word that saves is near/ Shed that shallow skin/ Come and live again/ Leave all you were before/ To believe is to begin.  To believe is to begin, and believing is just the beginning...