On Young Adults and Leaving the Church of the Nazarene (Part 4)

At the end of my last post (a year ago, already!) I said the following: “[…] onto what I’ll be writing next […] I want to address some of the approaches churches employ in regards to Young Adult Ministry.”

My interest in the subject has waned, but I want to make good on what I said a year ago and briefly go over some approaches to retaining/attracting Young Adults that I’ve seen many churches employ.

First, there is the ‘Coffee Shop” model. In an attempt to keep young adults active – or at least present – in the church, many leaders have sought to make the church more attractive. In a specific sense, this tends to look like a literal coffee bar that churches set up in their foyer or other common area(s). In a more general sense, I use the “coffee shop” model to refer to attempts to adopt stereotypes to make young adults feel more “at home” in the church.

Sometimes this means a coffee bar. Sometimes it means changing the music. Sometimes it means a fresh coat of paint to make the sanctuary look more ‘modern’ and ‘hip.’ Other times it means getting a “fun, relatable” pastor that young people feel connected to because they reference things like the Avengers or Pokemon in their sermons. Whatever it is, it’s an attempt to draw young adults closer to the church by appealing to their subculture.

The benefits of this approach are simple, and sometimes shine through. At the very least, they make young adults feel interested enough to check it out. It shows that the church wants young adults to be there, and the gesture of adapting the church to their specific culture can come across as genuine and resonates with young people.

The problems with this approach are manifold. For one, it puts the church in a position of competition with the culture. Once you set up a coffee bar, it had better be a good one! Because if a coffee-bar atmosphere is what you want to draw young people in, you’re now competing with the Starbucks down the street and every other local coffee house that offers “Great coffee” and atmosphere. And, I can guarantee you, the local coffee shop will win every single time in the end.

If you want to employ a “fun, young” pastor to draw young people in, I hope you have a backup plan for when they get older. Once they get married, or have kids, they’re going to have fewer and fewer references to Rick and Morty and start using Daniel Tiger and Bluey in their sermons. Young adults aren’t going to find that very endearing, unless they’re also parents. So, it’s time to find a new pastor. Furthermore, there are a plethora of fun, relatable, and engaging speakers and pastors online. Whoever you employ as your pastor will easily be outdone by some Megachurch YouTube channel. Be careful about using this as a method of drawing young people.

In general, whenever you want to change the church to fit with what appeals to young adults, you’ve now entered into a highly competitive market. Young adults are surrounded by companies vying for a slice of their attention and devotion, using all of the methods and techniques churches have begun trying to use to get and keep young adults in the pews. So, unless you want to devote millions into a marketing budget, don’t be surprised when your young people aren’t as apt to notice you as you’d like.

Second, churches tend to approach the issue of young adults by using those magical things called “surveys.” And I have a special loathing for those when it comes to evangelism and discipleship, for two reasons:

One, surveys are setup to reach general conclusions. That’s what they’re made for, and they’re terrific for doing so! If you want to know what a population generally thinks, use a survey. Here’s the problem with that: if you want to develop a young adult ministry using a survey as a guide, you’re only going to appeal to the lowest common denominator while leaving many by the wayside. You’re going to neglect those who have different views than the majority; different needs than the mob; different perspectives than the masses. On the whole, this is a terrible way to approach ministry; “What do most people want, to the neglect of the minority?”

For two, surveys only show what people “want,” not necessarily what people “need.” When it comes to young adults, this is even more true. Young adults are still forming themselves; still trying to figure out who they are. They, on the whole, don’t really know what they need spiritually. They know pretty well what they want, though. And that’s what a survey will tell you. 

And that’s why many approaches to young adults simply fail in the end. Churches hear what young adults want, try to give it to them, and then are surprised when it doesn’t work like they thought. That’s because churches who try to draw young adults are – on the whole – quite ignorant of young adult spirituality and development, and miss out on what young adults are needing because they’re too focused on providing what young adults claim they want.

Those are the two major reasons why I hate the use of surveys in developing ministry – especially young adult ministry.

As an anecdote, I read many young adult ministry books while I was the director of Common Ground Ministry. Almost every single one used surveys to outline how they approached ministry, and every ministry they developed looked the same, sounded the same, and each one had very little interest for me. Why? Because my interests and personality are in the minority, and so no survey is ever going to reflect what appeals to me. Thus, no ministry built on surveys is ever going to drive me to be involved.  Be careful of the “survey-driven ministry.”

You know what would be a good approach to young adult ministry? This:

Don’t change for the sake of young adults. Focus on Jesus Christ and Him crucified. Sing the songs you sing, praise as you praise. Invite young adults to participate, and treat them as you would anyone else – as individuals made in the image of God; not a monolithic stereotype hipster coffee-nut.

Anyway, those are just some of my thoughts on the subject. If you’re interested, I did a few videos following the recent General Assembly for the Church of the Nazarene. 

God bless, my friends.

On Young Adults and Leaving the Church of the Nazarene (Part 3)

I know it’s been a while since I started this series of reflections on why young adults are leaving the Church of the Nazarene. I’d like to conclude this segment, based on my multiple conversations, with a concerning observation towards young adults themselves. My previous posts have been aimed more at the Nazarene denomination, its leaders and practices. However, I want to change gears and focus squarely on young adults.

All of my conversations and observances of young adults leaving the denomination can be boiled down to two primary decisive moments: 1) they were forced out, or 2) they deliberately chose to leave.

As to the first, I’ve seen ministers have their credentials pulled for various reasons (some legitimate, and some motivated by church politics), and have also seen laypeople essentially run out of the church. Those situations are tragic, and there can be something of substance to discuss, but I’m more interested in the second item of interest: when young adults choose – on their own accord – to leave the denomination.

More specifically, I want to explore the two primary approaches young adults take that end with them leaving the Church of the Nazarene: deconstruction and consumerism. One of these is a healthy approach to discern one’s relationship with a denomination, and the other is inherently flawed.

For some of the people I spoke with, and it was a minority, the decision to leave the Church of the Nazarene came as a result of honest seeking, intensive study, and reflection. These people began to ask questions, and those questions led them to conclude that the Nazarene Church is not the expression of Christianity they can align with any more.

Typically, the kinds of questions one asks that lead to this conclusion relate to church & theological history, consistency and clarity of belief, and polity (church structure and practice). For example, as one begins to wrestle with Historical Christianity and explores the beliefs of the early Church Fathers, they begin to perceive contradictions between their discoveries and the Nazarene Church. The differences become irreconcilable, and the individual concludes that they need to search for a church that is more consistent with their discoveries.

I’ve heard from several individuals who left the Church of the Nazarene because they began to study things like Church and Bible History, various theological developments over the last 2,000 years, as well as how consistently the Nazarene Church adheres to Biblical teaching. Similarly, others had begun questioning the validity and depth of certain Nazarene teachings (or lack thereof) regarding human identity (race, sexuality, etc.) and Christian social living.

These types of people who left the Nazarene church exercised what I would consider to be a healthy deconstruction. They didn’t leave out of anger, or during a particular tumultuous time of disagreement with church leadership. Instead, they sought to develop a more full understanding of their Christian Faith and, in so doing, discovered that the various pieces of theology, Christian living, and history don’t match up to what their denomination teaches and practices. And so, almost always with a great deal of grief involved, they begin searching for a more true expression of Christianity to which they can join themselves.

These cases are rarely (in my experiences, never) motivated initially by a desire to leave. Rather, it is the Church of the Nazarene and her emphasis on holiness, Christian love, and a deep reverence for the Scriptures that causes many to dive deeper into their Faith. In an ironic twist in these cases, the Church of the Nazarene has actually set young people on a path that leads to exiting the denomination.

I admire those deconstructionists who invested so much of their time, energy, and souls into asking the tough questions. More than that, I admire them for their humility – accepting the Truth of the Church regardless of whether it’s comfortable or aligns with what they want to be true.

That leads me to the second point: consumerism. 

I don’t mean to denigrate those who would fall under this heading, because consumerist approaches to everything – including Christianity – have become a major part of our culture’s zeitgeist. All the same, I still see this as an unhealthy approach to leaving the Church of the Nazarene, and strongly caution people against it.

A consumerist approach to leaving the Nazarene Church looks like this: When a young adult is confronted with a teaching, practice, or perception of the denomination that runs contrary to their personal beliefs, they simply reject it.

In other words, a young adult leaves the denomination not because they’ve done the hard work of study, nor have they undergone the humbling exercise of submitting to Scriptural teaching. Rather, they have decided for themselves what the Bible says and what the Church ought to believe. And so, when their self-declared and self-certified beliefs are challenged, they reject those challenges and seek to find a new community that thinks and behaves in ways that agree with them.

It’s essentially church-shopping, but on the denominational level. And, unfortunately, it appears to be the majority approach of those young adults who leave the Church of the Nazarene. Coincidentally, those who leave under these motivations also tend to be the most vocal about it, whereas those who leave having done the work of deconstruction tend to leave quietly. Make of that what you will.

Some concluding thoughts on this one…

I do think older generations are given a poor view of why and how young adults are leaving the denomination. Some older folks see this as a movement of lethargy – young adults are simply too lazy to do the hard work of staying. Others see it as a movement of self-indulgence – young adults leave because they’re flaky and don’t like accepting the possibility that their personally held views are in need of correction. Others see it as a mix, and many more simply don’t know.

Regardless, I hope it becomes clear that the reasons for leaving the Church of the Nazarene are greatly varied, and there is no one-size-fits-all approach. 

In truth, there are many who leave the denomination with very good reasons for doing so, and they may have a point if we allow them to speak. For clarity, I’m not speaking here of those who have left over prevailing social issues – I tend to think we give those too much attention. Rather, I am speaking of those who are exiting quietly, having done a great deal of study and reflection, whose movements are muffled by the loud cries of those championing their consumer-Christianity.

To those young adults considering leaving the denomination: do your homework! No matter where you go, you will run into issues of leadership, abuse, neglect, and teachings that run contrary to your preferences. If you’re going to leave, do yourself a favor and learn some humility. Accept that a Church with a 2,000 year history has done a great deal more work on Biblical interpretation, theology, and Christian practice than you have, and be willing to do some digging to discover what those are. If, in the process, you find yourself being aligned more and more with the Nazarene denomination, then please consider offering your gained wisdom and knowledge to gently and diligently correct us where we are wrong.

If, on the other hand, you find that your spelunking of church teaching leads you to an inevitable conclusion of the Nazarene Church being fundamentally and irreconcilably wrong, then I pray your journey leads you to a more faithful adherence to the Sacred Scriptures and a community that does the same. At least now, you don’t have to leave in anger and frustration, having done the work and humbly sought after Christ.

Okay, now onto what I’ll be writing next. Somewhat in the same vein, I want to address some of the approaches churches employ in regards to Young Adult Ministry. I’ll be speaking in a  general sense, because I’m basically done with writing about the Nazarene Church for the moment.

On Young Adults and Leaving the Church of the Nazarene (Part 2)

As I’ve had time to absorb and process the stories that several people have shared with me, as well as the ongoing responses to my other blogs and posts, I’d like to continue exploring what others are experiencing regarding the relationship between the Church of the Nazarene and Young Adults.

1. This topic hits a nerve with a lot of people.

I don’t mean this in a negative way, as though people have been ‘attacking’ me for talking about it. Rather, this is a topic that is deeply felt by many people – both young and old.

I have had several people reach out to me who are middle-aged and senior adults, expressing how my previous post resonated with their own personal experiences. Most all of them reached out simply to affirm what others are expressing, and encouraging the conversation to move forward.

The flip side of “hitting a nerve” is that bringing up a subject like this does tend to strike people the wrong way. They interpret my writings and conversations as “stirring the pot,” and an affront to the more dignified way in which we ought to approach troubling issues within the denomination. 

To some extent, I certainly agree. I’ve never been a fan of the “Devil may care” attitude that all too often serves to undermine an otherwise noble goal. However, as I’ve tried to articulate several times, that is not my intent. Certainly, bringing up a touchy subject is going to ‘rock the boat’ and cause some people to openly and vehemently express themselves. That is inevitable, and to assume the “safer course” (or, as it is often meant, the “brush it under the rug and pretend it doesn’t exist” course) will rectify the larger issues is naïve. 

I also find it ironic that a denomination who’s roots extend to the Reformation would somehow be chagrined at the idea of someone challenging it and calling it to task. “In the spirit of the Reformation,” then, let’s talk.

The last point I want to make on this “hitting a nerve” is that many respondents, and others who are bearing witness to the conversation, are feeling the need to address this. They care about what’s going on within the denomination, and they want to do something about it. I applaud that energy, and I fully support those who wish to take the pain and hurt of their brothers and sisters and develop something positive out of it.

We ought always to be building things up. But, when we do so, the rot has to go.

2. This has been building for a long time.

I mean this in the context of generations. Gen Z has its hands on the doorknob, and Millennials are gradually leaving the room, but it’s the previous generations who have “laid the foundations” for a lot of what we’re seeing.

Let me clarify, because I am not use “laid the foundations” as a wholly negative phrase. What I mean is that the underlying issues, largely, that young people are facing within the denomination are issues that previous generations either didn’t address and clarify, or won’t address and clarify. And I mean this in the spirit of charity, as I don’t believe the reasoning is somehow malicious or uncaring; it simply is what it is.

Take for example the stereotypical “lynchpin issue:” LGBTQ. (by the way, this is a minority subject for those who have left the denomination, and rarely the determining factor). LGBTQ subjects have been around for decades, and yet the Church of the Nazarene still doesn’t have an articulation of “Human Sexuality” that comes anywhere close to being helpful in navigating these topics. Sure, we may have a pamphlet or a letter here-or-there about what this-or-that General Superintendent said one time, but unless we want to treat our Generals with a higher regard than Catholics treat the Pope, what’s said in a random email is wholly insufficient for those who are genuinely seeking the guidance of the church on these matters.

For Heaven’s sake, we don’t even have anything in our Manual (the only binding document for our denomination, mind you) even referencing transgenderism, which has been a central topic of discussion among teenagers for almost a decade. How can we expect young people to remain united with a denomination that can’t even take the time to flesh out its own teaching on one of the most fundamental aspects of our humanity – human sexuality?

This can partly be due to how young the denomination is. 100 years in the scale of human history is the age of a newborn, and perhaps it’s unreasonable to expect a mere century-old expression of Christianity to have all the pressing questions of the day addressed. Perhaps that, in and of itself, is a witness against such an expression of Christianity having legitimacy as a Church of Christ. 2,000 years of church history, and now we have some newcomer having to make everything up as it goes along. As an aside, that was one of the reasons I was given as to why a young person left the denomination; how can this church be a witness to the Truth when it doesn’t even know what it believes?

All that to say, for better or for worse, the past insistence on “doing the faith” rather than “thinking the faith” (which are not mutually exclusive) has set us up for generations of people who are seeking for guidance and finding empty shelves, because no one was writing.

Okay, that’s a tad hyperbolic, but you get my point: our current state is – in part – a consequence of past action/inaction.

3. No one really knows what to do.

I want to flesh this point out more later, as a separate reflection piece, but I’ll say this for now: There is no quick and easy solution for what’s going on, and it’s a dangerous game to assume “if we just do X, Y, and Z, young people will come back/remain!” It isn’t that simple, and part of the reason why we’re here in the first place is an unhealthy obsession with what I call “diet-pill Christianity.” That is, someone develops some miracle approach to ministry that solves all our major problems, and all a church has to do is spend 30 days to a year implementing XYZ changes, and all will be fixed!

You’ve probably experienced in your own church. “This is going to change how we do ministry!” the pastor exclaims as they return from a conference. So, the church buys a bunch of curriculum, sets up Sunday School classes, small groups, and a fancy sermon series (with video clips, even – how Modern we are!), and then some breakthroughs here-and-there later, the pastor is off to another conference because some other issues came up that have to be fixed by yet another flashy new program.

That approach isn’t going to work for young adults. They’re sick of the “diet-pill Christianity” model (or “Fast-Food Christianity,” take your pick). More to the point, no matter how many books we read on the subject, or how many conferences we go to, or how many speakers we invite to our churches, this fact remains: right now, everyone is guessing.

People are experiencing success with young adult ministry. Why? It isn’t very clear…

People are experience stumbling block after stumbling block. Why? Who knows for sure…

Sure, there are a plethora of books out there (many of which I’ve read, and only confirm what I’m saying), but when it comes down to brass tax, poring over statistics and having conversation after conversation with young adults isn’t bringing us any closer to a solution.

Statistics only show us what is, not what ought to be.

Data only shows us what affects numbers, not spiritual health.

And the “success churches” could owe their achievements just as much to the charisma of the pastor, or the location of the building, or just sheer dumb luck, as they would to any of the assumed reasons that are written about by authors seeking the “magic bullet.”

In my estimation, the only way the Church of the Nazarene can truly begin to make progress on this issue is to stop trying to fix it. Treating young adults as Consumers towards which the church must market itself isn’t going to work the way we’ve been trained to think ministry works, and you can thank the Church Growth Movement for planting those seeds.

4. The Church of the Nazarene isn’t the only denomination that’s facing this.

Well, that’s pretty self-explanatory. But, my point is that we shouldn’t freak out, as this is endemic among many churches, and partly due to the several factors that play in to young adult tendencies to move around and withhold loyalty. Basically, it’s complicated, which adds to my previous point.

5. It’s complicated

Yes, I just said this, but it deserves its own point. The reasons young adults are leaving are multiplicious. 

When working with any data set, even if its just conversations, the desire is to try and find commonalities and then use those commonalities to discover some shared reality that can be addressed. So far, that’s what I’ve essentially done.

However, in reflecting more on the subject, and thinking over the many conversations I’ve had, I feel that trying to distill the “reasons young adults are leaving the church” into a simplified list is doing an injustice to the situation at hand.

Every young adult has their own reasons, and there has not been 1 single issue that everyone who spoke with me agreed upon. So where does that leave us? Do we go after the most common issues and try to fix those, while abandoning those who left for other reasons? If we were trying to sell a product, sure.  But we aren’t in the business of defining our markets and “to Hell with the rest; someone will pick them up.”

A sound first step in moving forward, in my humble opinion, is recognizing that – while there are certainly some commonalities – every person, young or old, who leaves the Church of the Nazarene has their own reasons.

That being said, I think I’ve covered the groundwork. Next, I’ll try to specifically address some of the larger strategies I’ve witnessed regarding young adults and the “why/how” of leaving the denomination. This will be very different from my previous post, and will be aimed more toward young adults themselves (possibly).

On Young Adults and Leaving the Church of the Nazarene (Part 1)

I’m still waiting to hear from some young adults who have reached out to me, so I don’t want to get into the bulk of my reflections just yet. However, I do want to begin this conversation with some general observations I’ve noticed when discussing why young adults have left – or are leaving – the Church of the Nazarene.

For those unfamiliar with what this is, see this Facebook Post:

Many books, articles, and blogs have been written on the subjects of young adults and their relationship with their faith. My intention here is merely to express some of the sentiment behind why young adults are abandoning the Church of the Nazarene specifically, rather than to try and engage with the broader conversation that’s been done to death.

With that, here are some commonalities among young adults who leave the Church of the Nazarene:

1. It has to do with District and General leadership

Several of the people who shared their stories remarked on either disinterest by, or lack of accountability of, church leadership as a major motivator behind leaving. While several people had negative experiences at the local level (whether their pastor or lay-people were verbally/emotionally/spiritually abusive), it often reflected more on the District as issues tended to go unaddressed by those in higher positions. 

In the Church of the Nazarene, each local church is comprised of a church board that oversees a lot of church activity. Whenever there’s an issue with a pastor or lay person, one of the first places to go is that local church board. But, if the local church board either can’t or won’t address abuses within that church, where do you go? The answer: the District.

Unfortunately, District leadership seems to have become stale in its interest towards handling local church issues. At least, that’s the sense one gets when hearing young adults share their stories. Either the District(s) ignore clear abuses happening within local churches, or they exacerbate them by siding with those who are committing the abuses (as they unfortunately tend to be pastors or other leaders). 

There are many people with whom I conversed – most often licensed ministers – who shared instances of being treated negatively by their District. In every single one of these cases, there was no accountability; no one would listen to the young adult, no one even bothered to talk with District leadership, no one attempted to be an advocate for those young ministers who felt – or were overtly – slighted and snubbed by their leaders.

It’s true that Districts tend to operate autonomously, for the most part. Sometimes, this is a great benefit, as the lack of direct oversight means a lot of room for creativity in engaging local cultures and demographics. However, it also creates a breeding ground for corruption, as District leaders exercise more and more direct influence and control over their own boards and oversight committees; flooding them with “yes men” and pushing people out who hold views not in-line with their own. Such a culture creates vacuums of silence when it comes to the neglect and even direct harm to young ministers’ spiritual, emotional, and even financial health.

[Notice how many young adults are actively involved at the District level and participate in serious conversations. More often than not, Districts spend a lot of time talking about young adults, and not nearly enough time talking with young adults (except for when they host 1 conversation a year so they can brag about it in their annual reports). Some may respond, “We don’t have any because they never try for district positions.” That may be the case, and there’s probably a good reason they don’t want to be involved.]

The second part of this is General leadership. What happens when there’s an issue with the District itself? Answer: you go to the General leadership (to be fair, this is a little more complicated). Frankly, General leadership really only serves to send out publications and hold organizational meetings. Unless there’s an issue like a District Superintendent having an affair or embezzling money, the worst that will ever happen is probably just a phone call or a strongly worded memo. 

Truly, I’m kind of making that last part up, because I know of no situation where the General Leadership ever stepped-in and did anything remotely close to disciplinary. It’s a very hands-off approach, so basically the Districts are given wide berth to do whatever they want – which they do. (feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but my point here is that young clergy are often mistreated by their District Superintendents and there’s no way for the problems to be addressed)

I also list this subject first, because aside from one or two individuals, every single young adult who shared their story discussed obvious mishandlings by their District leadership as a critical reason for leaving the denomination. At the very least, there’s a near-universal sense that District leaders don’t care about young adults, and they especially don’t care about young adult clergy.

It’s sad, really. In many instances, all that’s needed is for District leadership to listen and at least attempt to do something. Unfortunately, there appears to be a growing trend of those in our church’s leadership behaving more like secular CEOs than church leaders. And young adults aren’t going to tolerate being treated like low-level employees for very long.

2. It’s a long, reluctant process

This one surprised me a little bit. I assumed that at least half of my respondents would have told me something like, “I left because they refused to ordain me.” Instead, what I heard was that it was a long series of events that went on for extended periods of time, and for several years in some cases.

As much as young adults are framed as being “flaky” and non-committed, when it came to leaving the Church of the Nazarene many of them held on for as long as they could. In the end, it often became a matter of, “I just can’t deal with this anymore.” And, as they left for another denomination, be it by way of letting their membership lapse or turning in their credentials, it was never a jubilant moment; rather, it was a sense of relief after an exhausting journey.

Somewhat related to this is the fact that, out of everyone I conversed with, none of them expressed happiness or joy at the idea of leaving the Church of the Nazarene. They wanted to remain. In most cases, they tried their best to make it work by way of attempting to initiate dialogues and find common ground. But in the end it was more a matter of “I didn’t abandon the Nazarene Church; the Nazarene Church abandoned me.”

3. It begins with a question (or two or three)

Similar to the beginning of the previous point, the process young adults expressed in their journey out of the Nazarene Church didn’t start with some catalytic moment. It’s not like they were sitting in a church service and the pastor said, “Anyone who plays video games or wears capris to church is going to Hell!” And then they got up and stormed out of the building, never to cross the threshold of a Wesleyan-Holiness church ever again.

Instead, the journey out of the denomination almost universally began by simply asking a question. 

“Why do I struggle with anxiety as a pastor?”

“Why does it seem like the Church of the Nazarene disagrees with certain beliefs held by the early church fathers?”

“What is the Church of the Nazarene’s position on LGBTQ subjects?”

“What if we engaged with, and loved our community in a way that won’t always lead to numerical growth?”

Something else that surprised me as I reflected on my conversations was that the tension felt by young adults wasn’t because of the answers they received to these questions. That could be understood, certainly. For instance, one could easily imagine a young adult leaving because they were told – in response to the LGBTQ question – “we believe transexuality goes against God’s created order for human sexuality.” And, if the young adult is pro-trans, we could understand them leaving the denomination on the spot. However, that wasn’t the issue.

Instead, the problems arose because no one wanted to engage the questions. Several people told me how frustrated they were that their questions were either ignored, derided, or treated as infantile.

“Why do I struggle with anxiety as a pastor?” Answer: I don’t know, you’re probably just messed up.

“Why does it seem like the Church of the Nazarene disagrees with certain beliefs held by the early church fathers?” Answer: Doesn’t matter.

“What is the Church of the Nazarene’s position on LGBTQ subjects?” Answer: Go ask someone else.

“What if we engaged with, and loved our community in a way that won’t always lead to numerical growth?” Answer: [404 page not found]

Obviously I had a little fun with that last answer, but those were real questions asked by young adults and they were all met with closed doors or open ridicule for even wanting to discuss the subject. Not only that, but when the young adults I talked with asked questions, it was never an attempt to “rock the boat” or be edgy. Those questions came from places of genuine curiosity and attempting to better understand themselves and their faith tradition.

Even more unfortunate is the fact that the questions being asked were never asked one time to one person. They were asked to multiple people, at multiple different times, and it was a long series of exploration that lay-leaders, pastors, and others either continually refused to engage or continually engaged in unhealthy ways.

What began as an honest question during a meeting with their pastor ended up being the first stage in a process that led them out of the denomination.

In short, the universal consensus from my respondents was that the major issue facing the Church of the Nazarene when it comes to young adults is not just a failure of leadership (though that is certainly true), but a failure of the system as a whole.

These are just my early observations, and ones that I personally resonate with deeply and have my own experiences with. I hope these can help to shed some light on why our denomination is bleeding young adults, or at the very least help articulate what others are feeling.

On Gags and Institutional Churches

Ever have a series of moments that’s led you to stop and think to yourself, “what on earth is going on?”  That’s been me over the past week.

It all started with a comment I made on someone’s Facebook post, then some responses I got from my last blog post, and then even more from my own Facebook post I made recently. I’m not referring to the encouraging words or general feedback in response to a question I had asked (those responses have been immensely helpful). I’m referring to the private responses I’ve received that have been out of concern for my own well-being.

To some extent, I do understand the words of warning and sincere curiosity at what would motivate me to say some of the things that I’ve said. When someone makes a comment [apparently] out of the blue that affirms another’s critique of church leadership, then writes a public document that refers to even more unease towards a denomination, and then poses an open question asking why members of a specific demographic have left/are leaving said denomination, I can see why one would be surprised and wonder what’s going on.

On the other hand, it’s also social media, and social media is a horrendous way of engaging with reality; things are taken out of context, too many assumptions can be made, and its overall a horrific platform by which to communicate effectively (which is why I requested people to send me a private message rather than post comments, but that’s an aside).

In light of this, I’d like to reflect on some things and clarify what’s going on:

First off: I’m not on a rampage, nor am I setting out to write some epic expose’ on the Church of the Nazarene. I don’t think nearly highly enough of myself to assume that anything I write or post on Facebook is going to make a difference or affect change. Yes, I have been very hurt by certain events that have transpired recently in my life, but I’m not on the warpath invoking a ‘scorched earth’ policy.

For those who know me well enough – and I realize that number is not very large, as I am a private person – one of the best ways I’ve found to process various events in my life is to write. As I mentioned in my last post, it forces me to articulate and organize my thoughts, which is a great benefit for me. However, I am also cathartic. It does very little for me to merely write out my thoughts and then keep them to myself; the greatest sense of relief and conclusion I feel is when I offer up my own life experiences and growth moments for others to consider. Who knows, but perhaps my pain and anguish can be a benefit to someone else.

In fact, the time when this blog had the most active readership was when I was seriously wrestling with a lot of my personal beliefs, and delving in a variety of theological discussions. For whatever reason, my own reflections seem(ed) to be of interest to other people, and I am happy to oblige. 

That being said, the primary reason I’m planning on writing on some aforementioned subjects is 1) for my own benefit, and 2) for the benefit of my readers (whoever they may be). I have little interest in purposefully being a part of a broader conversation or “invited to speak at the table” when it comes to the denominational level. Board members and delegates can do what they please; I just want to write and listen.

Second: I was asked what my motivation was for posting the question I did on Facebook.* Quite simply, here is my reasoning…

*For those who are unaware, I invited young adults who have left the Church of the Nazarene (or are looking to leave) to share with me what led them to that point.*

I was sitting down to begin working on a draft of what I wanted to express in relation to “A Young Adult’s experience with the Church of the Nazarene,” drawing from my own experiences – good and bad – and offering some observations and suspicions of why there’s been a migration of young adults away from the Nazarene Church. This idea came about mostly because it truly seems to be an issue no one wants to talk about, and I’m tired of seeing so many of my friends dip-out with not so much as a whisper from the general church. Something seems off, and I felt it would be prudent to address this subject as one who is still an ordained elder within said denomination.

But, in the process of planning out what such a writing would look like, I realized that I would end up making far too many assumptions about what young adults, in general, are sensing/experiencing/struggling with. So, the natural conclusion I came to was, “why not just ask what others have been through and simply listen to them?”

So, I did.

Third: My simple question ended up highlighting a stark reality for me. Namely, that within church leadership (I can only speak on the Nazarene culture in this regard), once you hit the level of ‘local pastor,’ you find yourself in a climate that prevents you from saying much. It’s not overt, but it wasn’t until I found myself outside the umbrella of District-level involvement that I realized how self-censoring clergy are expected to be.

There is a subtle, gradual realization when you take on a church that anything you say can, and will, be used against you. You stop asking the questions you used to ask. You stop exploring the difficult topics because they’re too much of a risk. You stop challenging what you used to challenge. And all because you know, at any point, you could be fired by your church board or have your credentials pulled by the District if someone deems that you’ve “crossed the line.”

So, you fall in line and only in the rarest of circumstances attempt to engage in difficult conversations. This isn’t out of confusion on the issues, nor it is necessarily out of disinterest, but out of fear. There is an underlying assumption that you will not be shown any grace nor understanding. And when-or-if you decide to speak out; whether it be a small group study or a sermon – even if it’s merely to call attention to the topic – you’re hit with anxiety over how long it’s going to be until that phone rings and you’re asked to meet with the board/DS.

That sets the stage for my third point, which is this reflection: Within the Church of the Nazarene, I’ve come to realize that we have conditioned ourselves to not ask questions, nor to engage with the difficult topics. Young adults leaving the denomination is one of those difficult topics, and simply asking the question of “why” seems to be enough to warrant blowback.

If we have such little security in the state of our church that we fear what others might say if asked a simple question, that speaks more to where we are as a denomination than it does to the one who asks; and it doesn’t speak well.

For those familiar with the concept of a “Church Life Cycle,” this is a clear indication that we now find ourselves in the “Institutionalized Church” stage; where commitment and loyalty to the business and administration of the church is a higher priority than loyalty to the mission of the church. And, according to the experts who have evaluated these life cycles, the only routes to take are a slow death spiral or drastic innovation. For my part, I once again admit disinterest in either of those conversations; I’m merely pointing them out.

Fourth: I really don’t appreciate that my loyalty to the denomination is being called into question due to my recognition that that the Nazarene Church isn’t perfect. I can’t name a single organization, whether secular or religious, where leadership doesn’t drop the ball and have huge blind spots at various points in their history, or that never face critical issues such as a large portion of a certain demographic expressing discontent and moving on.

To add to this, I feel I can speak for many young adults when I say that the notion of loyalty towards a denomination is a dangerous expectation, especially when said loyalty only serves to gloss over aforementioned issues and expects that we ought to carry on with our heads down and eyes closed. 

Fifth, and finally: I want to express understanding. The Church of the Nazarene has a varied, and frankly brief, history. In the mere 100 and some-odd years, we’ve been through a lot as a denomination.  We’ve gone through major theological swings, seen amazing changes, raised up phenomenal leaders, and have faced incredibly trying times.

The sad reality is this: In my humble estimation, a large contingency of members in our churches today  (broadly, I’ll refer to the “Boomer” demographic, with no intended insult or belittling) lived through what are arguably some of the greatest years in our history; a period of growth, excitement, adventure, rewarding challenges, and highly respectable leaders. I truly sympathize with their perspective, and God knows how much I wish we were still in that era. Unfortunately, we aren’t anymore.

Yes, we have great leaders among us. Yes, there are good and wonderful things happening and developing. But I feel we are being dishonest if we assume those are the rules and not the exceptions that people within our churches and among our clergy are witnessing.  

I often think back to my days as a Preaching Ambassador at Olivet. Those first 5 years were some of the best in my life! There was innovation, excitement, and everyone wanted to be a part of what was going on. It was like a slice of Heaven.

Then, over time, things changed. I can honestly say that it isn’t the same program that it was before. There’s been bureaucratic overreach in some places, a dismantling of some of the systems and processes that made it great in others, and it’s become just another program – an institution instead of an organic entity.

I don’t begrudge that fact, nor do I harbor any ill feelings to those involved. It’s just a fact of life that any organization or church body goes through these phases. 

I am writing what I’m writing because I feel this denomination is in a downward-trajectory phase (at least in regards to young adults), and I’ve said what I’ve said, and asked what I’ve asked, because I don’t think it’s healthy to ignore the reality of the situation. Even if the only person to benefit is myself, I want to better understand what’s happening to my church. 

What everyone else chooses to do with that is their affair.

On Hiatuses and Returns

It’s been a long time coming. Now, it’s finally here. But, before we start, I need to make a few things clear. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, all these years. Now it’s [getting dangerously close to plagiarizing the lyrics to a George Moss song].

As I mentioned in a previous post, writing blogs while serving as a lead pastor was difficult. For one, because most of what I’m reflecting on would be directly related to my experiences serving a specific church and community, and thus would unintentionally be a little too revealing of my parishioners’ personal lives.  For two, almost anything I spent time reflecting on made its way into a sermon, and I hate reusing my own content.

Well, those, and I also learned that the further up the ‘ladder’ you go in church, the more you have to keep your mouth shut. It’s kind of the unspoken rule of most church hierarchies: play nice, don’t rock the boat, and you’ll be loved and appreciated. Writing these posts in the style that is typical for me doesn’t exactly jive with that, and I’ve never been keen on writing milquetoast opinions that flirt with taking a stand on something but never actually commit. Can’t have someone affirming a position if it’s going to offend someone else, after all. Otherwise, you’ll receive the dreaded “Just wanted to get together and talk about some things” voicemail, and then get blindsided by someone throwing down the gauntlet and accusing you of being uncouth – one of the gravest of mortal sins in Modern Ministry.

Where was I… Ah, yes!

I’m planning on picking this up and sharing more of my thoughts and experiences going forward. There is a lot that has happened over the last few years, most of which I’ve had plenty of time to consider and flesh-out. Also, I miss being able to speak on various topics in a way that could be helpful to my readers. After all, that’s why I began writing in the first place.

Many people I’ve met write because they enjoy the simple task of putting thoughts into written words. It forces us to truly consider what we’re thinking, as writing (or even speaking) puts us into a mindset that has to make sense of our feelings. Although our feelings can come across to us as clear and unambiguous, it isn’t until we have to articulate them that we realize whether or not our perspectives and responses are coherent and reasonable. Thus, in the process of writing, we engage with our own emotions and ideas in such a way that it almost makes it like we’re encountering them for the first time – or, at least, we’re encountering them with more critical eyes – as we attempt to make sense of them so that they are intelligible for others.

Anyway, those two motivations have been playing on my mind and heart for some time now. I want to articulate my thoughts in a coherent way, and I also want to share with you all what those thoughts are. It’s always been my hope that my life could benefit others in some small way, and that writing could, perhaps, serve to that end.

To give some sense of where this is going, here are some general ideas that I’d like to write about, utilizing things I’ve been witnessing, studying, and processing:

• Forgiveness and accountability, specifically as it relates to intra-church abuses and the trend of “brushing it under the rug”
• Young Adult Ministry; things I’ve learned that I don’t see being discussed much, as well as current – and opposing – trends in churches
• The not-so-subtle influence of “Corporate Culture” within church leadership
• The so-unnamed emigration of ordained ministers from the Church of the Nazarene (specifically among younger ministers)
• Facts about the history of the Bible that I think need to be considered, but tend to be taboo among Evangelicals (and Protestants in general)
• Some thoughts on Christian Worship, mainly focused on the Worship Service

I’d also like to add, as some may read a few points on that list and get a little worried, that I find it disconcerting how my reputation has recently begun to be tarnished (to what degree, and among whom, I’m not entirely sure. But, I’ve become aware that some are trying to paint me as unfit for ministry, or – at the very least – so emotionally, mentally, and/or spiritually disturbed by life events that I’ve become a detriment to my own ministry). I bring that up, because I’m sure some may wish to commit ad hominem and claim that my ‘against the grain’ discussions are merely the manifestation and proof of my becoming a ‘wayward minister,’ which is also known as “gaslighting.”

All that being said, I only ask for the same thing I’ve expected with every post I’ve ever written; a discerning eye and an open mind. I always try to allow my words to speak for themselves, without having to rely on me or my position(s) in the eyes of my readers. I simply write out my own views and concepts in as comprehensible a way as I can, and let everyone take what they want from it.

As the summary of my conclusion to end the matter and reach a finality of this post: I’ll be doing some writing, and hopefully you will consider giving them a gander! The next post should come out sometime before the one following it is published.

On Dune and Deacons

In anticipation of the upcoming sci-fi directed by Denis Villeneuve, I’m re-reading the genre-defining Dune.

I first read it a few years ago, after seeing it in a list of “100 books you need to read before you die” (or something like that.) Science fiction has been just about the only genre that can keep my interest through an entire book.  Since reading it, I’ve gotten through almost all of Frank Herbert’s Dune titles.

One thing that has always stood out to me is the figure of the “Fremen” in Dune. Set on the desert planet of Arrakis, the Fremen are a group of people who live in the constant stress of water-scarcity. Their entire lives revolve around preserving moisture and carving a living out of the desert. As a result of their harsh living conditions, they are a people with keen senses and strength.

(Spoiler Alert!) In fact, they are such a strong people that they can easily overpower the legendary – and seemingly invincible – Empirical troops with nothing but their knives and wits.

The description of the source of their strength is something that I’ve wrestled with ever since reading it. Their strength derives from the fact that almost every moment of their lives is threatened by harsh realities. The giant sand-worms that can devour cities. The sandstorms that can tear flesh and turn bones into dust. The constant threat of dehydration. All of these factors – and more – has shaped these people into a deadly force. They are trained by their environment to be ever-vigilant, ever-aware, and ever-practical. No conflict is beyond their ability to conquer, because every day is a battle for survival for them.

It makes me think of our current culture, and I wonder if living in comfort is a great threat to our existence than it is a benefit. We are accustomed to convenience. We are used to people giving us what we desire. Our needs are of no real concern to us; there is always water, always food, and always someone willing to offer shelter. (Yes, there are those who do live in threat of starvation, dehydration, and exposure, but I am speaking to our general way of life).

We are not used to living in conflict – true conflict. The harsh realities of simply existing are kept away from our awareness and replaced by less-threatening realities such as where we will spend our vacation and how to afford a car payment.

I saw a quote the other day that gave me pause. “Having ‘just enough’ is the worst thing that can happen to us. It gives us no sense of urgency to move forward.”

Shifting this conversation to something more practical, I wonder if the Church has become too comfortable. We have gotten used to being widely accepted in our culture, having our beliefs written down in governmental documents or etched in monuments. We are startled and caught off-balance by even a simple challenge by someone who does not agree with our beliefs. 

Rather than patiently reading the landscape and standing firm in the midst of political and social changes, we act as though we are owed something. We have gotten soft and complacent in our comfort. We are too afraid to be seen as bullies, or homophobic, or racist, or misogynistic, and we care more about how we are perceived by people who hate us.

Not only that, but such fears have led us into complacency. We are stuck in the 1950s, unable to understand – let alone address – the changes we are faced with. In particular, we see the effects of this among our young adults who are leaving the Church in droves.

Have we become unwilling to take risks? Satisfied with ‘just enough,’ have we silently shuttered our doors and windows in favor of self-isolation and a slow death?

Or are we willing to go out in boldness and face the elements, learning once again how to live in a climate the constantly threatens our existence?

Tales from a Small Town (4)

I met him during a Youth event. Our church had invited the children in the neighborhood to a bon fire in our back yard, and he showed up in a truck loaded with kids.

Thinking he was one of the fathers, I engaged him in conversation and tried to find out which child was his. I soon learned that he had no children, and that he simply cared genuinely for the young people in our town. Curious at the prospect of making a solid connection in the community, I pressed him further.

He told me, “You know that old school building down the street? Well, a couple years ago I purchased it and moved here all the way from California.”

A bit odd, but okay. I thought to myself as he continued.

“I’ve been renovating the rooms and trying to turn it into a community center where the kids can have a safe place to hang out.”

He seemed very enthusiastic about his pet project, and out of curiosity I offered to check it out and see if we could form a partnership going forward.

The next day, I show up near the rear entrance of the old brick building that used to serve as the town’s elementary school.  I was greeted by the middle-aged man with a big smile as he welcomed me into his humble – yet spacious – abode.

I should take a moment to say that I tend to be a “feeler,” as in I can have a sixth-sense about certain things. Sometimes it happens when I meet someone, and I can just tell something is different, whether good or bad. Other times, it’s when I’m making a decision and I seem to instinctively know this is what I need to do. This time, however, it was about a place.  Something felt… off.

It wasn’t because I was walking through the dated facilities. Though, I will admit I had a haunting feeling when we began our tour in the old gym; a large room lit by the sun through glass stained yellow from age, with layers of dust settled on the concrete bleachers that overlooked the warped floorboards of a basketball court. The haunting feeling certainly wasn’t helped by the subsequent tour of the lockers rooms (if you could call them that these days) that were bare concrete walls with open shower facilities. 

I tried to envision his dream for that particular wing of the dilapidated building. Clearly I had found someone with more imagination than I had.

From the gym, we walked down the main hallway. Ceiling tiles rotted by roof leaks and time hung loosely at the far end, where there were two large storage rooms filled with shipping boxes and old arcade machines. The poor upkeep was due – I as told – to the previous owner, who had spent a small fortune trying to use the building for his ethanol projects. After a few failed experiments and chemical spills, the city found out and had him vacated (zoning conflicts). Stains from the chemicals covered those old floors.

The messes were messes – ugly and off-putting – but messes can be cleaned. I sensed that the wrongness lay somewhere else. It was the third room he showed me that began to confirm my suspicions.

We entered a long room with a low ceiling. A projector hung in the center, pointed at the far wall. Along one side of the room and the back wall was a bookcase; shelves and shelves of movies. In the center of the room was a couch and some chairs.

“The kids use this room to watch movies,” he said. “Better that they have a space for that here than running around in the streets getting into trouble.”

The logic made sense, to a point. The… ‘variety’ of video cassettes, DVDs, and Blu-Rays became the new focus of my attention.

“Are the children allowed to watch any of these movies?” I asked, as I quickly glanced through the clearly adult-viewer filmography he had accumulated. In my mind, I said to myself jokingly, surely there is a ‘kids’ section on the bookshelf, full of Disney movies or those old classics like Candleshoe or something. My mind quickly turned from joking to desperation; wait… there are no children’s movies at all! Nowhere! All I see are 80’s and 90’s action flicks, slasher films, and some straight-up X-rated titles. I’ll give the benefit of the doubt and assume he had at least 1 National Geographic title hidden away in the corner.

“Oh yeah,” he responded. “I let them watch whatever.”

Still skimming the shelves, I added, “Have the parents ever been here?”

“Oh, no. They’re just glad someone is looking after their kids.”

I bet, I told myself cynically. I finally understood part of why the children in town acted and talked the way they do. I only had one more question before we continued the tour.

“Are the children supervised?”

He pointed to a corner in the back, where a small black camera was nested. “I keep an eye on what happens in here; making sure they don’t get into trouble.”

“I see.” Apparently, he did too.

The next room was fairly mundane compared to the previous. A collection of PCs hooked up to a local network, where kids could play games.

“We have game nights here, every once in a while.” He explained as we walked through the tiny maze of cubicles. Something inside me began to feel desperate, and I found myself forcing a breathing pattern so as to not give away my strong apprehensions. I needed to see just what takes place here and take mental notes of what I saw. My trip had quickly transitioned from a tour to an investigation.

The final length of the tour took us towards where I entered – through the gym and up a wide staircase that led up to the old school offices. I made sure I was positioned so I could see every movement he made. Not out of a sense of personal danger, but because I wanted to absorb every detail I could about this place. Something was very wrong here.

He led me at last to a wide set of double-doors at the top of the stairs. Behind us lay the open door to the outside. Part of me wanted to end the trip there, but I felt that my true purpose here had not yet been completed. That, or I was caught in a moment of watching a train crash; it’s horrible and frightening, but I just couldn’t look away.

At his leading, we walked through the door on the right. It opened to a large living space. The far wall was occupied by tall cabinets; old filing storage repurposed as closets. There was a desk set up, pictures and decorations on the walls, and filled with clutter and dirty clothes strewn about.  I don’t remember much, but I do remember an odd emphasis towards the bed. It was king-sized, and repulsive.

I’m not sure why it was repulsive, but I hated looking at it. However, something about this room kept directing my attention towards that sense-alarming mass. Perhaps it was how the space was arranged – the ‘flow’ of the room pulling my gaze to the loosely-made sheets and head-impressed pillows. The bed itself wasn’t viewable from the doorway. A mix of clutter and furniture blocked the view. But now, it seemed to dominate over everything else.

Also, there was something else about that space that reached for my awareness. I found myself fighting against the attention-seeking mattress so much that the rest of the room became a blur. Although my tour guide was speaking, my mind couldn’t process what he was saying. Why can I not focus? What is happening in here? I don’t feel at-risk, or in any danger. It isn’t allergies, or a strong scent of mildew like it was in the hallway...

My darting eyes mimicked the war that I was having in my mind. My perception in that room was overcome by some sense of wrong. Was I in harm’s way? Or was it something else – something that’s lingering just beyond my senses, like a word you’re searching for that’s resting right past the tip of your tongue.

What connects the dots? Why my hatred of the bed, or the oppressive weight of this room? Why the sudden overwhelming urge to leave?

It felt like an eternity in that room, contained within a single moment. I still don’t know how long we were in there. Seconds? Minutes? Surely not anywhere near an hour, though it felt like I had been there for days-on-end.

I tried to keep engaging in conversation, to refrain from showing my panic; tried to find innocuous talking points to buy time until I could calm myself. At one point, whether prompted by my questioning or careless naiveté, he spoke up.

“Sometimes we have sleepovers here.”

That’s when the pieces clicked together. I looked around the room, and noticed what had been beckoning for my attention earlier. Among his laundry were pieces of clothing too small for an adult to have worn. There were, here and there, a child’s sock, a small jacket, a pair of pants or shorts. I looked towards the door and saw a stack of a child’s clothes, folded and neat.

My gaze went back to the bed. Now I knew why I hated it, along with everything else.

“I let them sleep there, but I don’t join them.”

Unconsciously, I’m sure. I accused in my head.

I composed myself, and thanked him for the tour. It was un-ironic, actually. I was grateful to see with my own eyes what takes place in my town, and I was immensely thankful that I had witnessed what I had before committing to working with this man any further.

After we parted ways, I began walking back home. My mind was reeling from the experience, and I was frantically putting everything together – committing it to memory.

When I reached the main intersection, the local officer saw me and stopped.

“I saw you over by the old school, Pastor.” He said as he greeted me.

“Sir, how familiar are you with what’s going on there?” I said.

He put his head down. “It’s nothing good, I know that.”

I began to tell him what I had seen, and gave every detail I could.

He nodded as he listened. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“Does anyone else know about this?” I asked.

“Sure do! I’ve tried to warn all the parents about letting their kids go there, but they don’t care. ‘Oh, he’s a great guy, we trust him with our kids,’ they say.”

“Does CPS know about this? I mean, how is something like that able to continue?”

He shook his head and shrugged. “It’s all been reported, but no one wants to deal with it.”

“Why?”

He shifted his patrol car into park, and leaned out slightly so no one else could hear. “It’s like I keep telling you, pastor. There’s a lot of messed-up things that happen in this town,” he sighed as he continued, exhausted and defeated by what he had to admit, “but nothing anyone does is going to change it.”

Tales from a Small Town (3)

“It must have sounded like thunder to her ears.” He repeated the phrase as he stared off into the unfocused distance beyond the trees.

I don’t remember exactly why I visited his house on this particular day. It was a cool summer afternoon, right in the time of year when the Spring rains slow down and I had to use my sprinklers more often. I think I was there to look at his “hens and chicks” plants.

He didn’t stand out in a crowd, though everyone knew when he was driving through town. But, that had more to do with the rusted-out muffler of his minivan than it did his personality.

I regret that I only had a handful of interactions with the 50-something (or 60-something?) year old man. However, that wasn’t for a lack of trying. For someone with seemingly little to do, he was difficult to track down.

The first time I met him was at church. More accurately, it was 1 inch outside of the church doors. His child relatives had come to Sunday School that morning – on their own, as they normally did – and decided to stay for the service. Not realizing where they were, he walked up to our front doors at the noon bell and asked if we had seen them.

“Ah, yes!” I said, excited to meet him. “They stayed in the service with us. Would you like to come in for a few while they get their things?”

Surprised, the man declined out of fear of immolation. (I wish I was saying that as a joke)

I tried to convince him it was okay to pass the threshold of the church, but he remained outside.

The second time I met him was at his house. I was trying to find his young relatives in order to invite them to a special service we were having. It seemed that tracking down anyone in that family required the work of a detective. I was about as shocked as he was when he opened the door and saw me standing there.

The children were not there, but him and I talked for a few minutes. We chatted about the changing weather, the work he was doing in his yard, and his barking-obsessed dogs. After inviting him to church, we parted ways.

The third time, I don’t really recall. We met somewhere, by happenstance. It was then that I learned he was growing Hens and Chicks – a hearty plant that many people use for decoration. Interested, I asked if I could stop by and see them.  Several days later, I was sitting on his porch as he walked me through his garden balancing a cigarette and a cup of black coffee in one hand.

Eventually, the conversation turned to a passage of Scripture. The funny thing is that I didn’t even bring it up. I never mentioned church, or God, or the Bible during our talk about his botanist habits. But, it was clearly something he wanted to talk about.

As we sat on the stoop, he turned his attention away from me and looked ahead with a stern expression on his face. “I don’t know much about the Bible, but I’ll never forget this story…”

I remained still, trying not to distract his attention.

“You know the story of the woman who was caught in adultery, pastor?”

I nodded.

“There she was. She didn’t try to make excuses, or lie her way out of it. She was caught, and everyone knew what she did. Even Jesus.”

He took a sip of his coffee, and the smell of burning carcinogens didn’t bother me as much as it usually does.

“And then those… Pharisees!” he nearly spit out the word. “They picked up stones and were about to punish her – rightly – for what she did.”

For a brief moment, it was like I had never heard this story before.

“I wonder what she felt in that moment, knowing she was a few moments from being killed.”

I realized he wasn’t just reciting a story from a book, and I began to recognize what Mother Theresa and the other saints saw when they described seeing Jesus in the lives of others. For this brief time, I felt as though I were a disciple sitting at the feet of a rabbi.

“Before they hurled those rocks, Jesus speaks up. He said, ‘If anyone hasn’t sinned, let them be the first to throw a stone at this woman.’ Since they were the religious leaders, they weren’t expecting that one! And then, they started dropping those rocks and walked away.”

He continued, eyes even more unfixed on the horizon.

“The sound of those rocks falling must have been like thunder to her ears.”

Tales from a Small Town (2)

I’m allergic to cats.  Deathly allergic, in fact.

When it comes to some cats, anyway.  I don’t know if it’s a matter of the breed, the cleanliness, or the diet that determines what cats I can live with (which I have before, while attending college) and what cats I cannot be within 20 feet of without my throat closing up.

On this particular day, it was a cat that fell somewhere in between.

It was dark.  Well past my normal working hours. I was finishing up some chores before going to bed when I heard my doorbell ring.  As per usual, I had to visit all three of my entrances before coming to the correct one. This time, it seemed, I was able to greet the visitors before they assumed I wasn’t home.

There were five of them. The oldest was around 12 at the time – the ringleader of the band of children. But, the one who was most comfortable talking with me was the second-oldest. She spoke up.

“Pastor Ben, we found this kitten abandoned by its mom by the church.”

The youngest, a boy with far too much unchecked energy and absent a good father figure, was holding a frightened, watery-eyed grey ball of fur close to his chest.

“We can’t take it home, so we were wondering if you would like to keep it as a pet since you live alone.”

I was immediately amused by this clever maneuver, and wondered how long they talked with one another about the best way to convince me to care for their newly discovered prize.

“Unfortunately,” I started, “I’m allergic to cats.”

Prepared for this, another one chimed in: “My aunt is allergic to cats also, but she takes medicine. You can get some of that, then you will be able to have a cat!”

I was tempted to see if they already discussed how visiting hours with the kitten would work.

“I’m sorry. I can’t keep it. Have you tried talking with the other neighbors?”

They began listing off more reasons than I expected of why no one else was qualified to care for their new ward.

In the end, I made them a deal. I would watch over the kitten for the night, and then I would pass it on to an animal shelter. I called up some favors, and procured an animal crate along with some cat food before starting to investigate where to deliver my new feline roommate.

It should come as no surprise than in an area with more cats than people, finding a shelter that accepts the rapidly breeding fur-creatures is easier said than done – especially one that promises a “no-kill” policy.

The following morning, I opened the door to the small entryway that served as a temporary animal crate storage.  What I saw was a pitiful state. The kitten – no doubt in an attempt to escape – had tipped over the water dish and soaked the food. I don’t know how long it had been clinging to the wire mesh door to avoid getting wet, or whether it’s meowing was out of fear or hunger. Probably both.

Even without experience working with small animals, it was painfully obvious this young cat was not yet weaned. Maybe it was abandoned as the children say, or maybe they stumbled on it while the mother was hunting for food. At this point, all I felt was pity.

Later that day, I drove it to a shelter a few towns over. They had me fill out some paperwork while they took the crate to the back room. I still remember those watery blue eyes staring at me as the curtain closed. In the long intake form, the only line I could fill out was the name. “Noah,” The children named it, feeling it was appropriate since it was found near the church. But, was it actually a male kitten? I didn’t even know how to fill out the gender portion. I sheepishly handed the paper back to the clerk, and returned home.

I tried to think of how I could avoid the children over the next few days, but I also knew they only had one priority on their minds right now.

Ding… Ding…

The doorbell rang again, before my engine had time to cool off from the journey.

“How is Noah doing?”

They knew I was taking him to a shelter, so there was no sense hiding that. Fearing for his life, they asked, “Will he be okay?”

“The people there will make sure he is well taken care of.”

I commended the children for their care and attention, and willingness to look after God’s creation.

The next morning, while I was drinking coffee and preparing my work on an empty stomach, I wondered if a certain young kitten was able to see the same sunrise I did.