It's Way Past Time To Reclaim Some Terms

One of the things I've learned over the years is how much heavy baggage words like "Christian" and "disciple" carry. Many of the people who I'd like to help find a vibrant faith in Jesus hear these words and the first image that comes to mind is not Thomas Merton's thoughtful writings, St. Teresa's passionate love for God or St. Francis' compassion.

Rather, it's Pat Robertson making scary pronouncements about assassination of foreign leaders, the followers of Fred Phelps choosing funerals as the time to savage families of loved ones who have died from AIDS, or protesters screaming at young women approaching abortion clinics around the country. It's men and women unwilling or unable to see complexity in life's issues but aggressive and smart enough to be politically organized (and thus, really frightening).

Given those images are the first to come up, no wonder so many otherwise thoughtful, kind people -- people searching for God -- hear the word "Christian" and immediately have a powerfully negative, almost allergic reaction. It's not until later, if at all, that they think of the many thoughtful, compassionate people who have called themselves Christians, the brilliant theologians and philosophers and those who have sacrificed so much (and still do) to create a more compassionate, loving world.

The same is true for the words "disciple" and "discipline." I've recently begun teaching that the purpose of the church is "to make disciples." This isn't my own creation, of course. It's simply what Matthew tells us Jesus commanded and promised. ("Go and make disciples of all nations...and I will be with you always." Matt 28:19-20) But do people ever get nervous when I use that phrase!

Again, I think it's because many of us associate a certain set of characteristics, or a certain kind of person -- certainly not one they want to be -- with the phrase "disciple" (or especially "disciple of Jesus Christ"). I've seen this happen. I have experienced it myself.

This is unfortunate and unnecessary. Those of us who would immediately say "of course" to the idea that to learn a new language or musical instrument (or any skill, for that matter) requires discipline suddenly freeze up when the idea surfaces of being a disciple of Jesus Christ. "No thanks," we say in the first case. "I don't want to be like them." And because we freeze up, we deny ourselves important resources for improving our lives. It's even true that our natural resistance to following Jesus' teachings can use this objection as camouflage.

The evidence of countless people over the centuries -- people in every imaginable spiritual and/or religious path tells us that all spiritual growth involves discipline. If we're unwilling to practice prayer, study, service and worship, we're simply not going to have much of a relationship with God -- however we understand God.

If we allow others to define what these words mean for us, or allow subconscious resistance to throw up a smokescreen, we will be spiritually poorer as a result. And we forget that the great figures that do inspire us -- the Martin Luther Kings or Gandhis of the world, for instance -- had powerful, lifelong disciplines of spiritual practice.

The outcome of our automatic rejection of the word "disciple" is bad for the individual, and it's bad for the church. It keeps people who would really benefit from regular, yes, disciplined, Christian practices from taking advantage of language that is powerful, and meaningful, and helpful for creating the kind of vibrant faith that the word "discipline" implies. But it's also unhealthy for the church. If thoughtful, kind, tolerant, flexible and open people are unwilling to take on these disciplines, who will be left?

Pentecost Christian, Pentecost Church

Homily for Pentecost 2007 (Sunday, May 27)

+ In the back of our sanctuary, tucked off in a corner, is our stained glass picture of the first Pentecost. It's a striking depiction, complete with tongues of fire over the disciples' heads. It's also something that very few people ever see. It's actually back behind the sound system.

+ As I was thinking about my sermon for today, I started wondering how different our worship space would feel if the Pentecost window were enlarged and put right up front over the holy table -- making it the focal point of the room. It would remind us of who we are in a powerful way, that's for sure.

+ It seems that the placement of the stained glass off to the side indicates some of the anxieties our parish (and, I think, the wider Episcopal Church) has about Pentecost. We especially become anxious when we use the word "Pentecostal." It brings up a lot of different meanings for us -- people whose experience of Christianity is very, very different from ours.

+ We've had our own challenges with folks we might call "Pentecostal" at All Saints. More than thirty years ago, a movement of people speaking in tongues shook up, then divided, the parish. A third of the membership ended up leaving -- no wonder people still talk about it nervously! We Episcopalians think of "Pentecostals," we get nervous. We see a movie like Borat with its ridiculing portrayal of Pentecostal worship and we feel extremely uncomfortable. Are we supposed to be like that?

+ Please understand that I'm not putting down people who participate in the Pentecostal movement. There is so much that works for them, not just on a personal level of love and enthusiasm and service and joy but on an institutional level. They are growing, large and powerful. They exude vitality.

+ At the same time, I would not feel at home in a place that teaches what they generally teach and that worships the way they usually worship. While it obviously helps them feel closer to God, it has the opposite effect on me.

+ Given these challenges, and some of the things that the word "Pentecostal" has come to mean, I'm experimenting with a little change in language. Today, I'm trying out calling myself a "Pentecost Christian" who's part of a "Pentecost Church."

+ There are three things that in my mind signify a "Pentecost Christian."

+ First, a Pentecost Christian believes in the creative, uncontrollable power of the Holy Spirit. We believe in the kind of God that is willing to (and does) enter fully into human beings, so the fullness of God can dwell in each of us (and in us as a community). This Spirit is given as a gift, unearned, and transforms who we are.

+ Second, a Pentecost Christian wants to find any language he or she can to talk to others about the love of Jesus -- as Judith Simonson says, "in any language people can understand." Our job is to let God communicate through us to people who desperately need to know how much they are loved, and to help them live in communities that maintain and grow that knowledge. We don't expect people to come to us and speak our language, whether that we speak, the music we listen to, the movies and tv we watch, etc. We find out what they speak and learn it -- and we do so so that we can communicate God's love in Jesus to them.

+ Third, a Pentecost Christian is on fire with the love and Spirit of God. Sure, we talk about it in spiritual and psychological terms, but haven't you ever felt physically warmed, skin tingly, in the presence of a spiritual event like a reconciliation of old enemies or a personal transformation in yourself? Look for it -- it's part of being on fire with God's love. It's passionate, warming, shaping, energizing and transformative.

+ I'm convinced that there are a lot of "Pentecostal" Christians who would fit this description. A small change in language can offer those Christians who might not want to be called Pentecostal a way to experience the very real benefits of Pentecost.

+ I'll close with this. There are an awful lot of people who need warming out there. So many people who are shivering in cold loneliness, or freezing in what AA founder Bill Wilson called "the shadow of the icy mountain" of addiction or alcoholism. We can share our warmth, and transformation, and healing -- that's what Pentecost Christians do.